I figured if I didn't, the world would be going out with a bang very soon.
Germaine, though, threw a goddamn fit.
The spider jumped onto my shoulder and barked into my ear. “The Marks of Abbadon? Are you fucking crazy, kid? We need to get the fuck outta here, and fast, because there ain't no way in hell I'm lettin' him cover your body in those scars.”
That got my attention. “So... these marks... what are they, exactly?”
Lubec plucked a long, black spear from the rack and toyed with it in his hands. Nodding to the blood-smeared table, he grinned. “The marks will help Gadreel's true power shine through, that is all.”
No way I was buying that. Germaine stepped in to offer the opposite view.
“Nah, fuck this. He's gonna use a magical blade to sear a sequence of scars all over your body. Those scars are going to basically make a magical seal that primes your physical form... makes it a perfect vessel for the demon. What that really means, though, is that you're gonna cede control to him. Maybe all of it, Lucy. There ain't a lot of people who know how to do this shit, and when you mentioned Lubec I should've known that this was what Gadreel was thinking. But everything I've read on this spells trouble. Everyday becomes the new moon. Wrap your fuckin' head around that one, eh? Hell, I don't even remember hearing about a Demon-Heart being stupid enough to try it in all of the lore. There's a reason for that. Unless you're a fucking idiot, you should know better than to throw the demon the keys to the castle, comprende?”
Gadreel, you crafty bastard. Is this what you wanted all along? A chance to pull one over on me? To completely take over? I sighed, looking between Germaine and the grinning Lubec. Rather telling was the fact that our creepy host wasn't denying the spider scholar's talk. Though, what with his also being a demon, Lubec was probably in the “letting Gadreel take you over completely is a good thing” camp.
Still, it wasn't like I could refuse outright. “What choice do I really have, Germaine? When you consider everything we're up against it would be stupid not to try, don't you think? And anyway, Gadreel's been behaving himself lately on the new moon. You were there for that, in Tibet. I think we've reached a point where we see each other as equals... friends, maybe. A point where something like this could possibly be... safe.”
I felt a bristly limb smack my cheek. “Listen here, you dumbass. You can't go through with this. I know what's at stake, but if you get this little procedure done then you're going to be in an assload of trouble even if we manage to take out the Manticore. Don't you get it? That prick, Arson, has been up your ass about every little thing. If the Veiled Order finds out you've gotten these marks, they're going to use that as an excuse to hunt you down. They're going to think you too unstable, too dangerous with that much power. I guarantee it. Is that what you want? To save the world only to have your friends come looking for you?” Germaine was shaking. “Think about what you're saying, kid. This is insane.”
“But... but I don't see the big deal here. I can hide the marks, right? And even if I get them, I can prove to them that Gadreel and I are allies. That we're trustworthy. I mean, I've been doing a pretty good job of that so far, right?”
“Kid, this is demonic magic we're talking about. These marks can only be made by a demonic hand, by an infernal artisan like Lubec here. If you walk in with these things all over your body, it's gonna be like showing off a gang tattoo to a bunch of cops. Not a good idea. They're gonna know you've been cavorting with other demons, and I can tell you right now that that isn't something they're too keen on. Just like necromancy, demonic magic is a forbidden art. The Veiled Order doesn't do demons, know what I'm sayin'? You're the exception, Lucy, and even then they're only putting up with ya for the time being. If Arson and some of the other leaders get wise, then...”
“I get it.” There wasn't much more to say. He made a good point, and the thought of Kubo and the others hunting me down made me sick to my stomach. But that fear wasn't enough to dissuade me. I turned to Lubec, who'd taken to stirring the coals with his frightful-looking spear. “If I go through with this, how much stronger will it make me?”
The man weighed the question for a time. “It will likely double your power. I have performed this feat once before, many thousands of years ago. There are not many of us who can do it, and Demon-Hearts are exceptionally rare. When last I performed it, it was on a man who'd received the heart of a lesser plague demon. You, however, have the heart of Lord Gadreel. A true fallen angel. I can't answer your question entirely, but I have to be frank... I'm thrilled to see what'll happen!” He shifted his legs a little, like he was doing a happy dance. Either that, or he was trying to hide a burgeoning bulge beneath his apron.
“Lucy, please...” pleaded Germaine. “Don't go through with this. The Veiled Order is going to flip out. They'll hunt you day and night. Is that the kind of life you want? After he gets done carving you up there's no way to know whether you, Lucy, will still be a part of the equation. Are you really OK with that? Is this a coin you're willing to flip? Because I ain't. It's a loaded gun and you're juggling with it, boy.”
I nodded. “Thanks for that. And thanks for bringing me here. But before I'd even set foot in here I'd more or less decided to do whatever was necessary to defeat the Manticore. This seems like the surest way to do it.” The spider was going to interrupt, but I abruptly stood. “One thing you need to remember, Germaine, is that there might not be a Veiled Order left to hunt me if I don't go through with this. I'll save their asses now, and if they want to come after me later, I'll deal with it then.”
“Y-you sure, kid?” asked Germaine.
“Sure, I'm sure. It's time to save the fucking world.” I nodded to Lubec. “OK. What do you need me to do?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
31
“Take off your clothes,” was Lubec's first instruction.
I'm no prude, but something about this apron-wearing, spear-wielding possessed man asking me to strip had me feeling gun-shy. I cast off my shirt, dropped trou and hoped that ol' Lubec wasn't going to start snapping photos of me.
Next, I was instructed to lay out on that blood-stained table. The metal proved surprisingly warm, and if I ignored the dried blood that met my skin and took in the heat that came in off of the pit of coals, I could almost relax. This was the first laying down I'd done in a while, and I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't in need of a good sleep.
Germaine was in my face the whole time, staring me down with his eight eyes as though I might suddenly change my mind.
Sorry, pal. It's too late for that.
Lubec paced around, shoving the barrel of human remains across the room to open up his working space. “I enjoy practicing on them,” he said of the cadavers, like he was a well-adjusted guy discussing a normal hobby. The entire rack of brutal-looking blades and devices was dragged over, and he'd stop now and then to poke at the coals. His hands were coated in sweat and grime, hardly sterile, and the apron he wore appeared to be encrusted with the remnants of his last few projects. He stood over me, reaching out with his spear to jab at the coals, and then put out the fluorescents. The room was illuminated only by the glow of the coals now, and the change made me feel as though I'd truly descended into the underworld.
Lubec began. “As a Demon-Heart, your body is like a suit of armor for the demon. It is the chariot that Lord Gadreel rides into battle, yes? But this feeble armor can be much improved!” He jabbed at my side with his thumb, grimacing as though in disgust. “We will augment this armor, make it so that it better channels the demon's energies. It will amplify your strength manifold, like a permanent new moon.”
“Cool,” I said, staring up at the dark ceiling and hoping he'd just get this over with. Germaine had perched upon the seat of the chair I'd been sitting in and was watching with bated breath. The demonologist in him was damn fascinated by what was going on, even if he'd never admit to it out loud. “So, what are you going to do to me?”
Fro
m the rack, Lubec plucked a stout little knife. It had a short, stubby handle, but the blade was hammered very thin. It was almost like a razor, but very long and inscribed with what I can only guess were magical symbols of some kind. This he held amidst the coals, until the whole of the blade glowed faintly orange.
I didn't like where this was going.
“The Marks of Abbadon take the form of a serpent. The work starts upon the sole of your right foot, up the leg, around the trunk, before finally winding its way up and terminating in the left arm, near the back of your hand. I will use this demonic blade to carve it into your flesh, a blade forged in true hellfire. It is a delicate process, and the strokes must be performed with exactitude, lest they will not have the proper effect. The wounds caused by this blade will not immediately heal over for you. They will be permanent. But when the design is complete, the scars will turn black as coal and you will wear the form of the black serpent forever.” Lubec made his way over to my feet, and as he lowered the blade I could feel a blistering heat dangerously close to my sole.
Gripping the side of the table, I grit my teeth. “OK. And when you're not doing this kind of work, you're... what? Hacking people apart? Doing other weird experiments?”
Lubec laughed. “Lord Gadreel, it has been an age since the two of us last met. I have lived in this house for some years now, but have been considering a move as of late. It is good that you came when you did, else you might have had trouble finding me.”
The guy wasn't too interested in chatting with me, but seemed more focused on chewing the fat with Gadreel. “And where is this house, exactly?” I asked.
“Gainesville, Florida,” he replied.
It took me a minute to get my head around that. We'd gone into an adult video store in Detroit, wandered through the Underground for a little while, and had then entered a house. That house's cellar had opened into this room, which was apparently located all the way out in Florida?
If not for the terrible sting upon the sole of my foot, I might have reveled in the mindfuckery of that a while longer.
I'm no stranger to pain. Just recently I'd been throttled and mauled by a massive creature of legend. I've had pretty much my entire skeleton ground down to dust multiple times, have been shot, stabbed and more. I didn't shy away from the knife as Lubec pressed it into my flesh, but it was hideously painful. I groaned a little as the tip of the blade went in. The worst part is that it didn't go in just once. He brought it in and out repeatedly, began carving away small divots of flesh as though he were skinning a potato. He went from the heel to the bottoms of my toes, and I felt every last cut.
Lubec seemed to enjoy it, too. The smile never faded from his lips, and more than once, when the cuts proved especially large, he'd catch himself breathing hard, tittering, licking his lips. This was a whole new kind of fucked up. It shouldn't have surprised me that a sadistic demon would get off on carving up his compatriots, but I wasn't exactly into it.
“Usually,” Lubec continued, unprompted, “I lure humans into this house. I enjoy forcing them into bargains, taking them prisoner and then testing the limits of their minds. The human mind will bend, sometimes a great deal, but when it finally breaks there's no putting it back together. And then I have to go looking for another plaything. The old ones, well...” He nodded to the barrel of limbs.
I was in too much pain to be outraged, but one thing was for sure. Lubec was a grade-A psychopath and criminal. I was probably going to lose my job with the Order just for having met the guy.
Germaine chimed in. “Take it all in, Lucy. Once Lubec's finished with ya, I suspect you're going to have a lot more in common with him than ya do now. Maybe you two will go a-murderin' together, huh?”
I shit you not, there was a glimmer of real excitement in Lubec's eyes at that prospect, and the bulge in his apron grew a notch. I hadn't noticed it up until then, however beneath the apron, Lubec was only wearing a pair of blood-stained tidy whities.
It was going to take me a long, long time to scrub the memory of this visit from my psyche.
“I can control him,” I said through a fresh jolt of pain. “I won't be erased so easily. In Tibet... I learned how to clear my head, remember? To calm my mind and make peace with the demon. I will control him.”
“The foot is nearly complete,” declared Lubec, placing the blade back into the coals. “I think we will be done by morning.”
Panting, I sat up a little. “What time is it now?”
Clapping his hands, Lubec drew up the knife from the pit, the blade nice and hot again. “Oh, it's still quite early. We've got to get a move on!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
32
“How do you feel?” asked Germaine from inside my pocket.
I shambled down the corridor, clutching my coat closed and gritting my teeth. “How am I supposed to answer that? You wanna know if I'm feeling more... demonic?” I glanced behind me, the way we'd come swollen over with blackness, and pressed on. “No, it's same old.”
“Huh,” was Germaine's reply.
We'd slipped out of that sordid little workshop in Gainesville the minute the work was done. True to Lubec's word, the scars had healed a striking black. I'd taken a few moments to stand and look over the guy's work before hurriedly putting my clothes back on and hitting the road. Lubec had done me a great service in carving this snake design into my skin, but the two of us hadn't exactly become fast friends. I wasn't interested in baking cookies with the guy.
And more than that, I didn't feel any different. Except for the fact that I was now rocking some pretty hardcore scarification art on my person, I felt completely unchanged. The pain of the procedure was gone, even if the memories of being laid out on that table and cut into repeatedly were going to take ages to fade.
Well... maybe that's not quite accurate. I did feel something, something I couldn't really put a name to. Since leaving Lubec's, something had come over me, so subtle I almost doubted it was there at all. You know what it's like to have someone looking over your shoulder? That awareness you feel of another presence nearby, even when you're absorbed in some task? I was feeling something like that. The demon, probably, was closer to me than ever before. I could feel a hanger-on everywhere I went. The presence didn't get any stronger, nor did it weaken. It just was. Something running permanently in the background, not distinct enough to be annoying, like the buzzing of a fly across the room.
Lubec had wanted us to stay, but I'd been away from the real world long enough. I promised to send him a Christmas card and took my leave. The world of men, the world that needed me, was probably falling apart. As Germaine and I left the tottering house, sprinted through the Underground and jumped through a back-alley trapdoor, we found ourselves once again at the end of that lengthy corridor that would lead us back to the adult novelty store.
I walked, then ran, my heart pounding all the while. Everything I'd just gone through, the potential consequences for going through with it, were far from my mind. I just wanted to get back and make sure everything was still OK. That the world I knew was still standing.
Soon enough, we were going to reach that door that was supposed to lead us back into the jack-off booth. What would we find once we got there? Would there even be a world left for us to go back to? Had the Manticore won out in my absence?
Shoving open the door at the end of that corridor, I stepped into a dark space. A flash of Joe's Zippo revealed the inside of the booth, just as we'd left it. I side-stepped the trashcan and television, unlocked the door. “We're back, man!” I said. “Think we've made it in time?” I hesitated a little before opening the door to the booth. What if we were too late and the city was in ruins?
Let me tell you, I've never been so glad to see a dildo as I was that day.
The door opened and the light of early morning attacked my eyes through the windows. We'd been out all night by the looks of it, and outside I caught sight of a couple furtive-looking pedestrians. Peo
ple resisting the lockdown the Veiled Order had instituted, probably. I gave a great sigh and walked around the store, hands on my hips, through the shelves of sexy merchandise. “Holy shit, it's good to be back.”
That was when I heard it.
It wasn't the voice of the man standing behind the counter with a sawed-off shotgun that I heard first, but the voice of the demon. It was firmer now, more material than it'd ever been. The voice of someone standing right next to me.
“Behind you,” said Gadreel.
I turned just in time to see the man at the counter, presumably the store owner, raise his gun at me.
Taking a step back and knocking over a rack of synthetic vaginas, I put my hands up. “Whoa, there,” I said. “Put down the gun, friend.”
The guy, his beer gut pooling in a doughy mass beneath the edge of his wrinkled button down, started towards me. “I come in this morning to check on my store, and what do I find? A looter who broke in to whack off while the city's under curfew. Get on the ground, else I'll blow your balls off one at a time.”
“You've got it all wrong,” I said, even though I knew exactly how this all looked.
“I've got it all wrong? Sure I do, kid. What were you doing in there all night, eh? Reading Scripture?” He wore a graying beard and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. Not the warmest attire for the season.
Lowering my hands just a touch, I smirked. “Nah, I was in there pissing in your trash can.”
It all happened so fast. The guy must have thought I was getting ready to run at him, because he pulled the trigger, aiming for center of mass.
One second I was standing there, flinching as I prepared to take a slug to the chest.
Next thing I knew, I wasn't standing there.
Happy End of the World (Demon-Hearted Book 3) Page 15
