by Leo Romero
Contents
TITLE PAGE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
THANKS FOR READING
HEART OF STONE
FALLEN ANGEL BOOK 1
LEO ROMERO
To sign up to Leo’s newsletter to receive updates, news on future releases and upcoming projects (no spam!), please click HERE
Copyright © 2017 Leo Romero
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Cover art by Lou Harper © 2017
Chapter 1
I needed a new siren. The last one I had in my Deck of Death got herself chopped to pieces in the pincers of a lobster demon called Crustus. Blood and guts everywhere. Nasty. Her name had been Quvoxyzharé, which was a pain in the ass to say whenever I needed to summon her, so I wasn’t sad to see the back of that nonsense. Almost got my butt handed to me by a cartel super werewolf stumbling and stuttering over that damn name. Got it out just in time before that bastard could sink his yellow talons into my throat. She popped up and saved the day, but that was one helluva close shave. Too close.
This new one’s name was Aurora. Short and sweet. That’s what I’m talking about. And she was sweet. A cute little angel with a button nose and bobbed hair. But don’t let that fool you. Sirens could be the wickedest creatures you ever had the misfortune to run into. Unless you were Crustus. You crossed a siren at your peril, but they’re damn useful and make one helluva noise.
One of my dark pixie informers got wind that a siren was the prize in a private game of cards on the outskirts of the Netherworld Strip. Now, being banned from every card house on the Strip, I’ve got no choice but to take the slim pickings at smaller private tables where the prizes were usually not up to scratch. On hearing a siren was on offer at this particular table, my BS radar was sent into overdrive, but one thing the dark pixies were reliable on was info; they were rarely wrong. So, color me pink when I arrived at the game and lo and behold, a gagged and bound siren was sitting right there ready to be won by me or one of the other weirdos sitting at the baize table. And by weirdos, I mean weird.
There was Frogface, Hogface, Bogface, and ‘What The Hell Is Wrong With Your Face’ Face. Seriously what is up with that guy’s face? More folds than an origami swan and as many flaps as a tent.
I tried my best to ignore their faces—and more importantly their stink—as I waited for Bogface to deal. It was his game, his table. He’d managed to bag the siren somehow and brought her here as first prize. I paid my entry fee: a bag of pixie dust, which Netherworld freaks loved cause it masked their grotesque features, meaning they could roam Earth without getting any funny looks or anyone calling the nearest exterminator. Me being a fallen angel, I didn’t have any such problem. Once the Big Kahuna clipped my wings and sent me back down to Earth, I retained my human form. Gabriel Stone, half angel, half human, and poker playing badass.
Don’t whisper it too loudly around this bunch of paranormal freaks though. I went into that game of Texas Hold ‘Em in disguise. The ‘trick of the light’ masking spell I used wouldn’t last long. These guys were low IQ, so trick of the light magic would fool them good, but eventually the subterfuge would wear off. Right then, I wasn’t Gabriel Stone but Cornelius Ringworm, an elfish merchant from the Chicago Underworld. If they found out who I really was, they wouldn’t dare play a hand with me, being the StoneAngel and all that jazz. They’d also skin me alive for that stunt I pulled back in the day when I won Bam Bam from the scaly clutches of Frogface, but that’s another story.
I sat back in my rickety chair. We were all huddled around the green baize table in a gloomy room in a beaten shack that creaked and groaned like a battered pirate ship. The dingy room stood at a weird angle like we were stuck in an episode of 60s Batman. The light above the table was too bright, it bathed the table in harsh light, glinting in Frogface’s gelatinous eyeballs. Outside the only window, tendrils of Netherworld mist swirled like spectral fingers. Man, this would’ve made a perfect haunted house.
Bogface picked up the deck and began shuffling, the slime on his palms plastering the cards as he went. Hogface was staring right at me with his piggish, yellow eyes, two tusks protruding from either side of his snout, his face as pink as gums. Frogface looked measured in his velvet cloak. His bulbous eyeballs were fixed on the table while he rubbed his green, slimy hands, slow and deliberate. Next to him, What’s Up With Your Face, or WUWYF for short, was slumped in his seat, a pile of folds and flaps like he was a giant chicken gyro kebab. Where that guy was looking I had no idea cause his face was such a mess. I didn’t even bother trying to untangle it in my mind; I had more hope solving a Rubik’s cube. I shook my head. Man, this bunch made the denizens of the Mos Eisley cantina look like guys in rubber suits. Gazing at all the freaks around me made me wish I’d bought along Excalibur or Bam Bam. But it was a strict no weapons allowed game, which I respected. At least I had my light magic. The plan was to beat these chumps, win Aurora, then get the hell outta Dodge without any need for violence. I just prayed my masking spell held out.
Finally, Bogface began dealing. He threw my two cards over to me, leaving a trail of slime across the baize. I had a sneak peek. A two and a six. Thanks, Boggy! Asshole hadn’t given me a good hand all freaking night. The rest of the guys got their cards and a round of bets went in. Looked like good hands all around apart from yours truly as the chips came flooding in. With my crappy hand, I was onto a loser here. Anyone else would’ve folded, but ‘fold’ wasn’t in my vocabulary. I met the pot and waited for Bogface to throw down the flop, the first three upturned cards of the hand.
While I waited, I glanced over at the prize. Even in the low light, her bottle-green eyes were brimming with fear. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I thought to my myself, Gabriel Stone won’t let you down. I’m the only guy to take on Death himself and beat the SOB, so these guys would be a cakewalk. I caught Frogface flick his eyes toward her. His slick tongue popped out and ran over his rubber lips. I cringed. Man, I hated to think what that freak had in store for her. Better win this game, Stone!
Bogface threw down the flop, the three upturned cards now covered in his brown bogslime. Ace of clubs, ten of diamonds, eight of hearts. Nothing for me. I was onto a loser here, bigtime. I placed my palm down on my two cards and focused a dash of light magic onto them. I checked out my cards again. Ace of spades, ace of hearts; a nice little trick of the light. With the ace in the flop, I now had three aces in my hand. So I went all in. I pushed all my chips into the center of the table and gave them a twitchy grin, hoping to give off a signal that I was bluffing. Frogface took the bait, which wasn’t surprising since he was a frog and frogs can’t resist bait. He went all in too, scaring o
ff WUWYF, who folded. Hogface decided he wasn’t up for the challenge either, sliding his cards across the baize with a disgruntled oink.
I met Frogface’s stare. “Looks like it’s just me and you, Froggy!” I said as I flipped over my two aces for them all to see.
Frogface’s bulbous eyes swelled even bigger as they rolled down to my cards. He gasped, which came out as a massive croak. I sent him a wink and a grin. With a trembling claw, he showed the table his two cards. A pair of eights. With the ace and the eight already in the flop, it meant it was three eights versus three aces. I was in the lead, but all it took was for old Froggy to bag an eight on either the turn or river and he’d be in the lead. And whaddayaknow? Bogface laid down the turn card, the fourth card of the hand, next to the flop. The eight of spades. The final eight in the deck stared back at us all.
Frogface erupted into a cacophony of croaks and bloated grumbles, his bug eyes rolling in ecstasy. He fist-pumped the air like a dictator jacked on crystal meth.
I kept my cool. “Still one more card to go, buddy,” I said, clicking my fingers while aiming them at the deck. “I wouldn’t count your chickens, or in your case, tadpoles.”
Frogface came to a sudden stop, his arms still hoisted in the air like flags.
I met Bogface’s stare. “Play.”
From the deck, Bogface picked up the river card, the final card of the hand, with a soft sucking sound. He held it on the air face down between myself and Frogface. The tension on the air electrified. All the players and Aurora had their stares fixed on that card in Bogface’s hand. It needed to be the final ace in the pack for me to win, anything else and Frogface would knock me out the game and I could kiss Aurora goodbye. I watched Frogface’s saucer-like pupils turn to slits, my heartbeat slow and steady.
Bogface flipped over the card and threw it down next to the other four with a soft splat. I snatched a quick breath. Everyone’s eyes, even WUWYF’s wherever they were embedded in his head, rolled down to the card.
Gurgled gasps filled the air. The ace of diamonds stared up at everyone like the nuclear button.
Frogface’s jaw dropped. His rolled-up tongue unraveled like a fire hose and slapped the table. He stared at the cards like he’d been turned to stone.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Better luck next time, pal,” I said, reaching across the table for my chips. One sucker down, two to go. Frogface’s eyes rolled to his chips as I pulled them across the table toward me.
He erupted into an angry fit of croaks and belches. “You cheated!” he blurted.
I placed a hand on my chest as if insulted. “Cheated? How on earth could a humble merchant such as I cheat?” I fixed my stare on all three of them. Frogface waved his arms on the air again in protest. Both Hogface and WUWYF grabbed an arm each to calm him down.
I gave them all my sincerest stare. “I’m deeply offended by such an accusation,” I told them in my best, most honest voice.
Some semblance of calm took over Frogface, and he slapped his rubbery hands on the table in dejection. He pointed a scaly finger at me. “You have the luck of the devil,” he declared before crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back in his seat.
Everything went quiet. I flicked my eyes at the siren. She was watching on from her seat with wide eyes. I kinda felt sorry for her. She was cute as a button, and although I was planning on binding her to an empty card in my Deck of Death, and so send her to the Void, I hated to think what fate lay in store for her if any of these guys got their grubby hands on her. I mean, what the hell did they want a siren for anyway? I dreaded to think.
Frogface had by now resigned himself to being knocked out the game, so there was no way he’d be getting his frog hands on her, which I guess was lucky for her. “Well, gentlemen,” I said to the others, “looks like it’s just the three of us.”
“Your deal,” WUWYF burbled from somewhere within the multitude of flaps and folds that made up his face. I squinted and stared hard at that face, wondering how the hell the guy could see from beneath all that. I quickly gave up, my own eyes falling on the deck we were playing with. Bogface had kindly arranged it in a neat pile, smearing the cards with his bogslime in the process.
“I guess it is,” I said with a smile, that grin melting faster than ice cream in the Sahara once I picked up the deck and got a palmful of slime. Ugh!
I wiped both my hand and the deck on my thigh and got ready to shuffle, a soothing smugness bubbling inside me. It was always nice to knock players out in such a dramatic manner, made me look uber-cool. I basked in the victory, enjoying watching Frogface throw his arms across his chest like an angry kid. I chuckled as I shuffled the cards. And then, like an idiot, I began to show off. Without thinking, I performed a backhand dancing Buddha riffle, my signature shuffle. I watched Frogface’s bulbous eyes flush with horror and recognition in equal measure. His massive jaw dropped with a squelch, revealing more pink than a Barbie convention. I frowned in confusion, wondering what was up with him.
Bogface’s crap-colored eyes flushed with lucid recognition, and I knew straight away something was up. I gazed down at my hands, which were assumed in the infamous dancing Buddha position, the deck of cards flying in a perfect spiraling arc from one to the other, and I knew right then that I’d royally messed up.
“StoneAngel!” Bogface belched out of his grimy mouth, flecks of crap and slime showering over the baize. All heads spun my way, and trust me, when you got four of the ugliest sons-of-bitches the Netherworld could muster staring right at’cha, no trick of the light is strong enough to resist. The masking spell melted off me like hot butter. I looked to my left to catch a glimpse of myself in the window. My disguise frazzled away like TV interference in seconds, my shoulder-length blond hair now on display. Next thing I knew I was staring down at my familiar three-quarter leather jacket, leather pants and boots. Hey, I like leather, what can I say?
Before I could make a move, Frogface was up on his toady feet. He grabbed hold of the table and slung it across the room where it smashed into the far wall. Hogface was already on his trotters, WUWYF swiftly joining them. By the time danger registered in my mind, Bogface was on his boggy toes. “Kill him!” he burped.
I jumped outta my seat and raised my fists. I sized em all up. They were bigger and scarier. Without Excalibur or Bam Bam I’d be torn limb from limb. And as there was no direct doorway from the Netherworld to the Void to call for help, I left my Deck of Death monster cards back at my apartment. It was just me and whatever light magic I could muster.
All four of em stood there, trembling with rage, the infamous StoneAngel ready for the taking. I licked my lips and raised my eyebrows. “Who’s first?” I asked.
Frogface erupted into life with a hot croak. He hopped toward me, his eyeballs whirling like pinballs, his cloak flapping on the air behind him like a giant wing. In moments, he was on me. I instinctively upturned my hand and concentrated light magic in my palm. My hand burst into incandescent light. I threw out my palm, giving Frogface the ‘stop’ sign. A blinding flash of light exploded right in his avocado-peel face. He came to an abrupt halt, his momentarily blinded eyes blinking and spinning against the burst of light that had burned his retinas. He staggered around like a blind man, his arms outstretched.
I’d bought myself a second or two to assess the situation. I flicked my eyes left and right, looking for a weapon or a means of escape.
“Release my gag!” a voice flared in my mind from nowhere. I whipped my head around to Aurora. She was staring at me bug-eyed, her chest heaving. “Do it now or you’ll die!”
I staggered, my head rolling left and right, remnants of her voice still humming in my mind. I gave my head a brisk shake and got back into focus. I laid eyes on Hogface’s snout up close and personal. His tiny yellow eyes burned like fireflies. I threw out an instinctive fist, connecting with that schnoz full on. There was a squelch as my knuckles slammed his rubbery snout. Hogface came to an abrupt halt, his head snapping back with a pig-lik
e snort. He staggered back into Bogface who was stupidly right behind him. Both of them tumbled back like a pair of clowns. It bought me the time I needed to jump over to Aurora. I must have had rocks in my head to release a siren without first conducting a binding spell, but times were suddenly desperate.
I ripped off that gag. “Ah, thanks!” she said in a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth voice. But, I was smarter than that.
I immediately crouched and plugged both my ears with my fingers as far as they would go. My stare was fixed on Frogface and WUWYF as they were storming in toward us, Frogface’s tongue stiff on the air like a lance and WUWYF with his flaps and folds dangling, ready to consume whatever got in his path.
I clenched my teeth and squinted my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. Aurora sucked in a deep breath. And let em have it. Her mouth opened up and she gave em a blast of her sweetest soprano. The hideous noise that erupted outta her hit em like a tidal wave. Think of the loudest screech you’ve ever heard, times it by ten, throw in a dozen pneumatic drills boring into a slab of granite at full blast, top it off with a hundred jackals mewling during mating season, turn the volume up to twelve, and you still wouldn’t be close.
All four of em caught the wave of supersonic sound head on. It hit them like a train, knocking them back, their limbs flailing like they’d been caught in a typhoon. They were sent sprawling across the floor like pins, putting them outta the game.
Luckily, the wave was heading away from me. Unluckily, it bounced right off the wall and hit me on the rebound. I was lifted off my feet and thrown back. “Whoa!”
I hit the floor, landing right on my ass. I winced in pain at the jolt shooting up my spine, my head ringing like I’d taken a punch from Rocky Balboa. I shook my senses back together and looked around. All four were down, but recovering. I needed to make a getaway, but I wasn’t leaving without my prize.
