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

by Leo Romero

  I gave him a sideways stare. “Yeah, I get the divine, royal fae blood bit, but the siren part puzzles me. I didn’t think sirens were anything special.”

  “They’re not. But that’s what makes it special in this case. The Dark Bearer’s blood is always the direct link between Heaven, Earth and Hell. Opposing forces, Mr. Stone, which meet in the middle. You cannot get more opposing than a Fae King and a siren. It’s a miracle she exists. Her blood is royally divine, yet mythically bestial. An ultra-rare perfectly balanced combination which can unlock the link between this plane and Hell. Now you can imagine why she is so sought after by the Princes of Hell.”

  I puffed my cheeks. A royally divine beast! Holy moly, that’s some combo.

  Smith shook his head. “But this new information doesn’t perturb us, Mr. Stone. Our remit is purely for the armor and its special attributes.”

  “Well, I’d love to help, but I’ve got an eighteenth birthday party to arrange; a rogue Prince of Hell who’s gone all Jonny Storm running around town; a half siren, half fae link between Earth and Hell, who’s a prisoner of her obnoxious Fae King father who needs rescuing; and where the hell’s the lep gone?”

  “Mr. Stone,” Smith began, rubbing his head as if a migraine was forming. “We merely wish for you to hand over the gauntlet. Your other personal issues are not of our concern.”

  I threw my hands out to the sides. “I haven’t got it,” I told them with a grin.

  “You do have it,” Johnson said in a stern voice.

  I leaned forward. “No, I don’t.”

  “Mr. Stone, Olev was adamant—”

  “I lost it,” I said, shutting Smith up mid-sentence. I had a big grin on my face. I was suddenly glad I didn’t have Hando. Smith and Johnson stared at me, glimmers of irritation caught on their plastic features. That made me happy.

  Smith glanced at Johnson. “This is most irregular,” he stated.

  I sat back in my seat. “Dunno what you guys think you’re gonna do with that gauntlet anyways. The rest of that armor is out there somewhere. From what I gather, some seriously evil people have it, so maybe you should just give up the chase.”

  I gave them a smug stare. Heh, these assholes thought they had everything locked down. Well, not everything, suckers!

  Smith glanced at Johnson, then looked at me. He cleared his throat. “Can you follow us, Mr. Stone,” he said, rising from his seat, Johnson standing in perfect synchrony.

  My grin melted into a frown. “Why? Where?”

  They both walked past me without answering. Johnson opened the door and Smith stood by it. “Just follow us, please,” he reasserted.

  With an exasperated sigh, I slapped my knees, then rose to my feet, my back aching. I winced, stretched and then headed for the door. I walked past them both out into the corridor, where I was swiftly overtaken by Smith, who walked ahead of me and Johnson. I followed him around the corner, while CCTV cameras followed us all. He stopped by a door with a retina scan security box attached to it. Smith’s eyes were scanned and there was a beep. He tried the handle and the door popped open.

  “In here, Mr. Stone,” he said in that condescending voice of his.

  “In here, Mr. Stone,” I echoed under my breath, mocking Smith. I smiled to myself as I entered the room. And once I did, my smile vanished faster than a magician’s assistant. I came to an abrupt halt, my jaw dropping like an anchor. I found myself surrounded by suits of armor lining the walls, each one standing behind glass enclosures like I was in Tony Stark’s basement. Some were fully complete, others were missing pieces here and there, while others were only beginning to be pieced together. They were made of differing materials: metal, leather, rubber, wood. Some were unidentifiable to me. There were different styles of armor, some medieval, some samurai, others hi-tech, while others looked alien. Each enclosure was illuminated from the ground up, giving the impression we were in a museum. I suppose in some ways we were.

  I spun in a circle, taking them all in, my mind whirling with questions. “What the hell is all this?” I asked, my jaw dropping as I stared around me in awe.

  “There are many armors in the universe across the multitude of planes, Mr. Stone,” Smith said, entering the bizarre room and standing next to me. He stared at the armors proudly like a geek showing off his Star Wars toy collection. “All of which serve a different purpose. Some with similar purposes to the Armor of Agony, others with ulterior motives. The Disciples of Satan are never-ending in their quest to conquer Earth.”

  I came to a stop. I met his stare. “You mean to tell me the prophecy of the Dark Bearer is just one of many?”

  “Precisely,” Johnson said with a firm nod, as she came and stood on my other side.

  “There are all manner of prophecies and myths and such that even we are unaware of, Mr. Stone,” said Smith.

  I gulped. Holy moly, this was heavy. And then I realized what this was all about. The Dark Suits were looking to use whatever power each armor offered in warfare. There was no stopping these guys in their quest to rule the world.

  With despondency swelling inside me, I had another look around, and then I saw it. The Armor of Agony. It stood to my left. My heart skipped a beat. “Is that…?” I said, pointing at it.

  Smith gave me a firm nod.

  I walked over to it in a daze. It had leggings, a torso, sleeves and a head. It was in the form of some kind of beast. Werewolf like, but slightly different. Its fur sprouted in patches across its body and limbs. Its skin was scaly, almost reptilian. The whole thing was crisscrossed with healed scars like it had been whipped repeatedly. Between the fur and scars were arcane tattoos, twisting and turning amongst one another in intricate patterns. Staring at them made my head spin.

  The head was one ugly mofo. A gnarly snout, two rows of jagged teeth caught in a snarl. Its long, pointy ears curled down at the ends. Two horns, one broken in half, protruded from a thicket of long, tangled hair, curling out and then back again toward the back of its head. Two bloodshot, bulbous eyes glared out into an unknown distance, the irises flushed red with fire. I cringed back against it, looking it up and down. I noticed there was a piece missing. Yep, the right hand, Hando.

  “The legend says it was once a powerful demon named Kravos,” Smith told me as I stared. “He’d been a Prince of Hell until he was double-crossed and sacrificed at Satan’s torture altar in Hell’s seventh circle. There, he was skinned alive, and the exoskeleton hardened in hellfire to become what you see before you. His writhing, skinned remains were drowned in a lake of boiling blood, before his very soul was transferred to the armor.” Smith turned away. “If you believe in such myths that is.”

  I gazed at that face, at those glassy eyes. They rolled down at me and I flinched. The whole armor began to quiver. It wanted to move, but was held to the wall by binds.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Stone,” said Johnson in a calm voice. “Any movement by the armor is just an after reaction similar to the squirming of a severed octopus tentacle.”

  Nice thought...

  I spun away, shaking off the creeps that were suddenly all over me. To think I had that thing’s hand over mine. Nausea began to rise inside my stomach.

  “So, now you see, Mr. Stone,” Smith said, his hands out to the sides and half a smile on his face. “We are the ones who have the armor. And it is perfectly safe from your demon friend. Now, we were hoping to make a deal with you. We understand your desire to vanquish Beelzebub, and to be perfectly honest, we would rather he wasn’t running amuck on Earth either. Now, we were going to offer you some of our advanced tech to battle him in exchange for the gauntlet. But, if what you say is true about you having lost the gauntlet, then, well...”

  “It’s okay!” I blurted, showing them my palms. Suddenly I wasn’t averse to these guys having Hando. If they had some advanced weaponry to give me to fight Beelzebub, right now, I’d take it. Plus, Smith the cardboard cutout was correct, the armor did look to be pretty secure up here in his hands, safe from Beezl
e-brain’s clutches at least, which would hold off the ritual. Maybe it would be best to cut a deal. Just a shame that I didn’t have Hando. “Look, I know I said I lost the gauntlet, but I can get it back,” I told them.

  Smith spun toward me. “Oh really? How fortunate!”

  My eyes widened. “Yeah, see the leprechaun’s gonna give me his pot of white gold he keeps at the end of the rainbow, which we’re then gonna give to the Fae King for him grind into bathing salts, and in return he’s gonna hand over the gauntlet.”

  Smith and Johnson gave each other cursory glances.

  I scratched my head and stared at the carpet. “That sounded absolutely insane didn’t it?” I said with a frown.

  Smith cleared his throat. “There are many crazier things in this universe, Mr. Stone.” He waved both his hands on the air. “We are not concerned with the ins and outs. Just bring us the gauntlet and we will arm you to the teeth to take on Beelzebub.”

  I puffed my cheeks. “Okay, you got a deal,” I said. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made a pact with the devil himself.

  Chapter 14

  I was escorted down to the lobby where, after a short while, Seamus came scampering out of the elevator, terror scrawled across his face. On seeing me, his eyes lit up. “Oh Gabriel, am I glad to see ye!” he exclaimed, racing up to me. “These fiends were prodding and poking me with their insane devices!”

  I nodded. “They’re an inquisitive bunch, Shay.”

  Seamus threw his arms across his chest. “Well, they can be inquisitive about someone else.”

  A couple of Dark Suits showed us to the front door. I asked Smith if I could have one of those ice cannons they used on Beelzebub, but he said it was a prototype and the only one they had. Great. Even though it wasn’t powerful enough to stop Beelzebub, it at least slowed him down a little. Just enough to get away from him. The front door was held open and we were dumped back out into the night and the streets of Chicago. My Harley was waiting for me on the street. Hmm, at least they went back and got it for me, that was nice of them. I looked back at the huge building we’d just left. It virtually went up to Heaven itself.

  “Am I glad to be out of there,” said Seamus.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “So, where are we going now, boyo?”

  “We’re gonna go and get your gold, little guy. So, where is it?”

  Seamus shrugged. “Beats me.”

  I gave him a dark glare. “What do you mean? Your most precious possession and you don’t know where it is? Come on, Shay!”

  He raised a finger. “This Overworld place can be a tad confusing to the leprechaun folk. Which is why we call upon the rainbow to guide us to our gold.”

  I nodded my head in recognition. Of course, the pot of gold is always at the end of the rainbow. How could I forget? I looked up at the night sky and sighed. There was no rain, nor was there any sun, which meant no rainbows. I growled. “We don’t have time to wait for rain and sunshine at the same time.”

  Seamus raised a finger in the air. “Oh contraire, fallen angel. We have all the light we need.”

  I frowned. “We do?”

  “Of course. If ye give us a blast of that light magic of yours.”

  I stared at my palm. Good idea. “Okay, we got us some light. But, what about rain?”

  “When I was a weed lad,” Seamus began, “we’d sing a limerick to bring about a drop of rain.”

  I looked at him, nonplussed. “Limerick? What like a song?”

  “That’s right, boyo.”

  “And did it work?”

  “No,” Seamus answered with a grin.

  I groaned. “So, why are you telling me this?”

  “Cause ye need some rain, and I’m telling ye what the leprechaun folk do to bring it around.”

  “But you just said it didn’t work.” I rubbed my hot eyes. I was staring to have enough of leprechauns. Their logic sucked. I let out a hot sigh. “Whatever. Give it a shot,” I said, flipping my hand on the air.

  Seamus grinned. He began hopping from one foot to the other.

  I watched him in bemusement. Man, I hoped no one was watching. I had a reputation to uphold.

  Then, he began singing.

  “There once was a young man from Heaven,

  Whose favorite number was triple seven,

  He had gold on the brain,

  And needed some rain,

  So he got Seamus to point up to Heaven.”

  Seamus pointed a stubby finger toward the night sky. I followed that finger, my gaze fixed on the black sky. I hoped and prayed for rain, something, anything. And whaddayaknow? Nothing.

  My eyes fell back down on Seamus, who was staring hopefully up at the sky. “Well?” I asked him.

  “Give it a minute,” Seamus replied.

  I let out an exasperated sigh. The seconds ticked by and nothing. No rain. And we were wasting time.

  I threw out my hands in frustration. Stupid lep! I was about to let rip on Seamus, when something smacked me in the eye. I flinched back, blinking water out of my eye. I rubbed it, staring at my fingers afterward in disbelief. I raised my face up to the sky. Another fat droplet of rain plummeted into my other eye.

  As I shook it off, a rumble of thunder rocked the air. I looked up again. A streak of lightning split the sky. A few more drops of rain hit me on the head. I glanced at Seamus, whose eyes were rolling around in their sockets, an inane grin on his face. In the next instant, rain was pummeling the ground all around us, sounding like machine gun fire in my ears. In seconds, my hair was plastered to my head. Laughter bolted out of my chest, cold rain falling into my mouth.

  As the rain came down, Seamus danced a jig from foot to foot. “Rain, rain, don’t go away. Come along today! Today!” he sang merrily. “I think someone up there is looking out for ye, boyo,” Seamus said with a wink.

  I nodded in agreement. “I think you’re right.”

  Seamus clapped his hands and rubbed them.

  “Okay, fallen angel, you’ve got yer rain. Now bring forth the light.”

  I focused light magic in my palm; it lit up like a sixty watt bulb. I pulled my hand back on the air, and then thrust it forward. A wide beam of light bolted from my hand down the dark, rainy street, slicing through the rain. A second later and a rainbow band bloomed within the light, a beautiful spectrum of color. It ran down the street, igniting it in glorious vibrancy.

  Seamus sucked in a big breath, his chest inflating like a balloon. “Woosh!” he said as he expelled the air from his lungs, his cheeks popping out like he was a puffer fish. The rainbow shimmered for a moment as it realigned. It curved and dipped around the corner up the street, guiding us right to Seamus’ gold.

  “Hurry, boyo, the rain won’t last for long,” said Seamus.

  I nodded. I used a trick of the light masking spell on me and Seamus. Now he was a little girl with pigtails and I was an old crone. It wouldn’t fool Beelzebub for long, but might buy us the second or two we needed to evade him if need be. I went and got on my Harley, looking all around me. Beelzebub could be anywhere. The good thing was the rain would keep him underground, hopefully long enough for us to get to the gold. I started up the bike and she rumbled into life.

  “Follow the rainbow, fallen angel,” Seamus ordered, pointing ahead of me at that band of luxurious color. I set off, riding dead center through the rainbow, the colors swirling and reflecting all around us. I felt like Dorothy following the yellow brick road. Did that make Seamus Toto?

  Man, it was weird staring at a rainbow in the middle of the night. But I didn’t care. As long as it took us where we wanted to be, let it rain, let it shine. The rainbow bent and curved through the streets of Chicago guiding us like a sat nav. I shot across town, following that rainbow, Seamus jumping in his seat behind me like an excited kid, salivating, going on about his gold and how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. Well, Seamus my man, neither could I. As we crossed town, I wondered where the little fool stashed his
loot. I was hoping he’d stuffed it up in some old tree somewhere or an unused dog kennel, or even buried it in the back yard of some abandoned house. Seamus was whacky but he had to have some smarts too. I mean, if he put it somewhere really hard to get to, then that wouldn’t be very smart.

  We made it to the industrial area of Back of the Yards and a nasty feeling started taking over me. It got worse the deeper we ventured into the thicket of warehouses. I’d been down there on more than one occasion and not for anything good. The place was like a ghost town, a once thriving hub of commerce, now left to rot. Broken business signs, smashed factory windows and ruptured asphalt was the norm here. I was hoping Seamus had hidden his stash in an unused warehouse where we could just walk in, pick up the goods and leave. But as that rainbow shot past another empty warehouse, that bad feeling intensified.

  We went past more and more long-abandoned warehouses and factories before the rainbow shot through the rusted iron gates of one in particular. One that I knew all too well. San Pedro Tequila. But, it wasn’t tequila that was being brewed in there anymore.

  The rainbow ran up to the massive corrugated iron roof where it ended. I brought the bike to an abrupt halt and stared up at the broken and faded ‘San Pedro’ sign above the gates in despair, the rain pounding me. My heart sunk. You gotta be kidding me!

  Behind me, Seamus was hopping with joy. “We’re here, boyo. We’re here at last. Me gold. Ah, I can almost smell it!”

  A burst of anger shot up into my chest. “Seamus, you idiot!” I snarled.

  Seamus frowned in confusion. “What’s up with ye? Rejoice! We’re finally here!”

  I met his stare. “Rejoice? Do you know what this place is?”

  Movement outside the warehouse made me duck. Guys with submachine guns in hand were patrolling the perimeter. I rolled the bike away behind the surrounding wall. I jumped off the bike and peeked around the corner, through the gates. Those guys were still patrolling. No doubt the night watch crew.

  I sighed to myself. Could anything be simple? Anything? “Seamus,” I began in as serious and calm a voice I could muster. “This is cartel territory. This warehouse is where they brew their crystal meth!”