Heart of Stone: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Fallen Angel Book 1)

by Leo Romero

  “But you need your freedom for that.”

  “Aye. Which is where ye come in. So don’t let me down, fallen angel!”

  I put my hands out to the sides. “Have I ever let anyone down?”

  Seamus grumbled and turned away. I chuckled, but my laughter stopped dead. A guy engulfed in flames entered the road about halfway up. My eyes widened.

  Beelzebub turned our way. He spotted us both and immediately came marching our way. “There you are!” he snarled in a gravelly voice that cut through the silent street.

  I scrambled to my feet. “Shay, we’re bailing!” I said as I dashed for my Harley. Seamus whirled in a confused semi-circle as I raced by him. As he did, he laid eyes on the fire demon heading our way.

  “Wait for me, boyo!” he squeaked before hopping into life.

  I jumped on my bike. Beelzebub went into a sprint, flames flickering out on the air behind him. I had to grab Seamus and lift him up onto the seat behind me, which lost us a couple of seconds.

  “Where is the Dark Bearer?” Beelzebub snarled. He must have spent however long we were in the Underworld looking for Aurora. Now that he’d seen us coming outta there, he’d work out where she was. The good thing was I was pretty certain he didn’t know how to get entrance into the Underworld itself, so that bought us some time. It meant I had to get Aurora out of there before he found her. But first we had to get away from him.

  I went to pull my keys from my pocket when I realized Bracken’s goons snatched them from me when they took me prisoner. Luckily I’d taped a spare beneath the subframe in case of an emergency like this. I leaned back and felt around for the tape. On finding it, I ripped it off, the key still stuck to it. By the time I released the key, Beelzebub had gained more ground. The whoosh of the fire engulfing him rasped through the air.

  “Hurry up, Gabriel!” Seamus urged, his feet kicking.

  I jabbed the key in the ignition and got her started up. Her engine purred into life. “Hold on!” I ordered Seamus. He immediately gripped my shoulders with his tiny hands.

  The immense heat rapidly approaching us from behind warmed my skin. I jammed the throttle and we zipped off. Beelzebub threw out a flaming arm. Seamus ducked just in time, letting out a panicked yelp. We shot down the street, the glorious wind rushing past us, the Harley’s engine roaring. I had a quick glance over my shoulder. Beelzebub was storming down the street after us. And boy, he was fast. Faster than anything I’d seen. He closed the gap in a couple of seconds, his fire-licked legs pumping like pistons.

  “He’s gaining on us,” Seamus noted.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I sneered over my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and pushed down the throttle harder. The heat from Beelzebub was all over me like a rash. I took a glance back to see him right behind us. He was aiming his hand while sprinting. Next thing I knew, fire was shooting from his hand. Both Seamus and I ducked at the same time. An intense heat shot overhead. Holy moly, that was close.

  “Look out!” Seamus screeched, pointing ahead of us. I whipped my head forward to be met with the headlights of an oncoming car. I’d strayed into the wrong lane and didn’t have time to swerve back. The car swung out of the road to avoid us, its horn blaring in my ears. It hit the curb and smashed into a fire hydrant. Water gushed out in all directions. We caught a bit of it of the stream, and so did Beelzebub. There was a loud hiss followed by an inhuman groan of pain. I snatched a look behind me. Beelzebub was staggering to the side, bits of his red skeleton now exposed where the flames had been doused with the water. Hot wisps of steam rose off his bones like he’d just come outta the microwave. It gave us a chance to get away from him.

  I sped up, putting distance between us, but old Beezle-brain wasn’t done yet. He shrugged off his injury as surviving flames re-ignited his bare bones. He began rampaging once more, a flaming blur eating up the street.

  “Here he comes,” shouted a panicked Seamus.

  Yeah, I can see him. If only I had some water or ice, or water and ice to dump on that asshole.

  I kept going, hoping to somehow get him off our tail. I spun a sharp right onto a dark street when an unmarked van came screeching across my path. My eyes bulged and I slammed the brakes, whipping the bike around ninety degrees, the tires screeching. My pounding heart was beating in my ears. Now Beelzebub would get to us in seconds thanks to this asshole in the van. Before I had a chance to berate him, the side door of the van was thrown open by a guy in a freaky latex mask of an old man. My surprised eyes rolled down to the cannon in his hands and my heart skipped a beat.

  “Duck!” the guy said in a robotic tone.

  I did as I was told. The moment I did, the guy aimed the cannon over us and fired. A harsh squelch burst from the muzzle of the cannon, and something fired overhead. I snapped my head back to be met with the image of an out of control demon engulfed with flames, arms raised high, ready to come down on us, his eyes twin rubies of hate. Something blue and sparkly struck those flames, dousing them in an instant. A hot sizzle erupted into the night like a thousand snakes all hissing at once. Intense steam rose into the air in fat tendrils. Beelzebub came to an abrupt halt, his arms still raised above us. It was like he’d been turned to stone. Or ice. Yeah, it was ice. He was frozen, blue, rigid, his flames totally extinguished.

  I gazed in disbelief from him to the guy in the van. “Thanks,” I uttered. But by the time I did, more masked guys came filing out of the van and running over to me. I spun left and right, trying to take them all in, but they moved like wolves. Beyond it all, Beelzebub was trembling and quivering. A loud cracking sound was echoing off him; he was breaking out of the ice.

  “We don’t have long!” the guy with the cannon stated.

  Another guy reached out and grabbed Seamus, ripping him off the bike.

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  “Lemme go!” Seamus protested, kicking his legs on the air. I turned my head the other way only to have a bag thrown over it. Darkness took over, that cracking sound reverberating in my mind. I was dragged off my bike by multiple guys, just as there was an intense crack and flare of fire re-igniting. I didn’t need anyone to tell me Beezle-brain was back in action.

  I was bundled into the back of the van, where I fell on my side, my head smashing onto the van floor. The scrape of the door sliding shut was swiftly followed by a hollow thump of fist on metal.

  “Evacuate!” someone shouted. The van shot off, sending me rolling across the van floor. In the background, Seamus yelped. The back doors clicked open and a second later that squelch played out once more.

  “Direct hit!” Cannon Guy shouted out straight after.

  The back doors slammed shut and I was dragged further into the van interior. My heart and head were racing. Who the hell were these guys now? And what did they want with me? And what was that stuff they used on Beelzebub? As the van whizzed through the streets of Chicago, the questions built up in my mind. And I didn’t have the answers to any of them. But what I did know was that I was their prisoner. And all I could do was wait and see where it was they were taking me.

  Chapter 13

  I was pulled out of the van and led into a building where we entered an elevator. As we began going up, my hood was ripped from my head. I squinted my eyes against the overhead lights. The panel over the elevator door read ‘5’ out of a hundred-odd floors. I was crammed in that elevator with four other goons in neat, perfectly trimmed black suits.

  I nodded in recognition. The Dark Suits. I should’ve known. The advanced weapons tech, the clockwork run kidnapping. Could only be the work of a highly sophisticated and organized network. And that’s cause the Dark Suits were the Illuminati. The secret society network running Chicago and who knew what else beyond. The cops, the intelligence services, the arms of the Government were all controlled by the indekit, nondescript guys decked out in the same dark suits. They all gave themselves boring, sterile names like Smith and Johnson, almost as if they had a real identity they were trying to hide. And they all
looked the same. Bland. Neat cut hair, angled jaws, doll-like eyes. It was like they’d been manufactured on a conveyor belt.

  They all stood there to attention, unflinching like statues. If I fart, would any of their noses even twitch? I wondered to myself.

  “You guys watch the game last night?” I asked. I got no answer.

  I looked the two standing ahead of me up and down. “Do you guys get these suits from the same store or do you make them yourselves?” No answer, just the soft whir of the elevator. “I’m seriously interested,” I continued regardless. “Thinking about getting a few for myself. Really dig the ‘spook’ look. Think it’ll go well on me?”

  No answer. I sighed. The panel above the door now read ‘56’. Looked like I was being taken to the top guy, whoever that was. Probably Smith, or Johnson. We continued rising up the building in silence, my robotic elevator pals standing there like effigies. Well, things had taken a strange twist, that’s for sure. The Dark Suits had very little interaction with the Angel Guild as far as I knew. They were very Earth-based, as in more interested in the material than the paranormal. You could say they were a bunch of atheists, even though they were well aware of the existence of the Big Kahuna and his satanic counterpart. They chose not to get involved, leaving the angels to fight the demons while they went about their business controlling and herding the humans under mass surveillance and propaganda. Why they’d get involved in what they had to perceive as a perfunctory battle between angels and demons was a mystery to me. The fact they actually went out of their way to save me from a demon was what surprised me the most. If a demon took out an angel, it was nothing to them, business carried on as usual. If an angel took out a demon, eh, who cares? As long as the CCTV tape was still running and the politicians were bought and paid for, nothing else mattered.

  It made me think that for the first time in like ever, the politics of Heaven and Hell were interfering with the politics of Earth, and so it had become their business.

  The elevator finally opened up at a floor in the late eighties and the first two goons stepped out. The other two stayed where they were, waiting for me to leave first. I sighed and stepped into the corridor with its smoke-gray carpet and off-white walls. I scanned the area. Everything had a weird symmetry to it. Plastic yucca plants stood to attention directly opposite one another, framed pictures depicting red or blue rectangles were hung facing each other. It was like a computer had designed the décor. I was led past doors embedded in the corridor walls at precise intervals. Embossed on them in plain font were names. Smith, Jones, Johnson. I glanced up; a CCTV camera was watching my every move, arcing around to follow me as I went by. I gave it a wave.

  I was led around the corner where we passed by huge windows looking out over the Loop. A forest of skyscrapers split by the Chicago River sprawled out into the distance. One of the guys in the lead moved ahead and knocked on a door with the name ‘Smith’ embossed on it. After a second, he opened it and cocked his head toward the doorway, indicting for me to enter. I stepped ahead and into the room. I gave the guy holding the door open a grin. “Much obliged,” I said to him as I went by.

  The door closed behind me and I was in Smith’s office. Smoke-gray carpet, off-white walls. Standard fare. Blinds were pulled down over the windows. A desk sat in the center of the room, exactly dead center as if it had been meticulously measured out. Sitting behind the desk were two more dark suited people. A guy and a chick. He was in the dark suit trim, while she was in a white blouse with dark jacket covering it. They both had their palms flat on the desk, one over the other, their backs straight at exactly the same angle.

  “Hi,” I said to them, looking around. “Nice place.”

  “Please take a seat, Mr. Stone,” the guy said, his lips the only thing moving.

  I stepped across the bland carpet and grabbed a chair on the opposite side of the desk. I slumped down into it with a sigh, my whole body aching. I stayed lounging back while I flicked my eyes between them both. They remained exactly as they were. Plastic dummies. Mannequins. I waved my hands across the air trying to get their attention. They stared at me with glassy eyes. A shiver creeped up and down my spine.

  Then, the guy began speaking. “Mr. Stone, this is Ms. Johnson and I’m Mr. Smith.”

  “Smith and Johnson, huh? And there was me expecting you two to be called Priscilla and Scaramouche.”

  Smith glanced at Johnson. She gave him a small shrug of her shoulders. They obviously didn’t get my joke.

  “It’s okay,” I told them. “Please continue.”

  “Mr. Stone. We want to make this as brief and succinct as possible,” Smith stated. “Where is the Gauntlet of Agony?”

  Man, these guys didn’t do small talk. “The gauntlet of what?” I answered.

  “Please refrain from playing coy, Mr. Stone. We know you have it since Olev Stravinsky has informed us as such.”

  Olev? Snitched me out to these guys? Why? “What’s the deal with you and Olev?” I asked.

  “He was working for us against the triads to acquire the gauntlet.”

  “Yeah, but why Olev?”

  “The Russians are followers of the Orthodox Church. We felt it advantageous to use their staunch religious beliefs in our favor. When we discovered the triads had the gauntlet, we armed the Russians to attack them, confident in the knowledge out of all the gangster factions out there, they’d be the only ones who’d seriously go after the triads with a real zeal.”

  My top lip curled up. “Yeah, get someone else to do your dirty work. Sounds about right. Olev lost guys in that battle. They could’ve all ended up killing each other.”

  Smith shrugged ever so slightly. “All the better, Mr. Stone.”

  I nodded. “That’s always the MO with you guys. Turn one faction against the other.”

  “Divide and conquer, Mr. Stone. The art of war in its purest form. However, things do not always develop as anticipated. Mr. Stravinsky was supposed to hand the gauntlet over to us. It has transpired that he double-crossed us and handed the baton over to you instead, no doubt to turn the attention of the fire demon from himself and his men over to you. Better that you burn than he does.”

  Hmm, figures. Sneaky Olev. After all I did for him with that damn scarecrow. But hey, maybe Olev didn’t want these creeps to get their hands on the gauntlet.

  “And why do you guys want it anyway?” I asked them.

  “The gauntlet is part of an armor set designed—”

  “By the Six Diseased Disciples of Satan,” I interjected with a bored nod of my head. “Yeah, I know all about it. The Dark Bearer must be put inside the armor where their energy is drained to open up a permanent portal between here and Hell where demons can come and go as they please. What I don’t understand is why you guys want that?”

  “We don’t,” said Johnson.

  “Our interest in the armor is in its power,” Smith said. “As you may be aware, the armor offers its wearer a temporary burst of immense strength, which quickly dissipates once it begins to drain the wearer of its life force. As you can imagine, this strength enhancement interests us immensely in terms of arms technology.”

  I nodded my head in understanding. “Now I get it. You want to make a battlefield weapon out of the armor by replicating the strength buff.”

  Smith gave me a small nod. “That is indeed our remit, Mr. Stone. But, we need the whole suit to fully activate its potential. Which is why we request that you hand over the gauntlet.”

  I leaned forward. “Just answer me a few questions first.”

  Smith sighed. “Please be brief.”

  “I will. If all you’re interested in is harnessing the power of the armor itself, why did you summon Beelzebub?”

  “We didn’t.”

  “Come on, you expect me to believe that?” I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “You know what I think? I think you hired the triads to find the gauntlet. Once you realized Ming was working against you, you armed Olev’s guys w
ith holy water darts to go get the gauntlet, but then, once he did, you summoned Beelzebub to go after Olev to take him out the frame, but now Beelzebub has got out of control and you’re looking to distance yourselves from him as much as possible.”

  Johnson adjusted slightly in her seat. “Your detective skills need honing, Mr. Stone.”

  My grin drooped. “What?”

  “We didn’t summon Beelzebub,” Smith informed me. “That was someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Johnson gave me a small shrug. “We don’t have that kind of information.”

  “But, you got information on that armor and demons. What was that stuff you used to freeze him back there?”

  “Technology we had rapidly developed to battle fire demons. As a result of our haste, it isn’t perfect. It can only briefly halt him.”

  I let out a dry chuckle. “You guys are in way over your heads. You’ve no idea what you’re messing with. Beelzebub is a Prince of Hell. You won’t be able to develop something to beat him.”

  “We shall see about that,” Johnson said, her back straightening as if insulted.

  “Pff. Whatever. He won’t stop till he gets his hands on that armor. That means he’ll be harassing you till he gets what he wants.”

  “He can try,” Johnson said, raising her chin in the air.

  “Well, he’s after the Dark Bearer as well, which by de facto means he’s after me too.”

  Smith shook his head. “There is currently no Dark Bearer alive.”

  I gave him a wide-eyed nod. “Oh yes there is! I know her. She’s a half siren, half fae. Daughter of the Fae King no less. And Beelzebub knows who she is too. That’s why I’ve gotta save her and send Beelzebub back to hell.”

  Smith rubbed his chin. “Hmm, if what you say is true, then it is no wonder there is a Prince of Hell stalking this current Dark Bearer.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Well as you say, a siren, royal fae mix would indeed fit the bill for the mythical Dark Bearer.”