Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2)

by Ambrose Ibsen

  “Come on, Lucy. Don't cause a fuss. Germaine obviously likes you.” Joe stifled a laugh, waltzing towards the door and waving me over. “We don't have time to lose.”

  “That's right, you should listen to your buddy over there,” added Germaine. “I'm just gonna get cozy on these broad shoulders of yours. Don't suppose you got a place I can stay, do ya? Finding this sword might take a little while. But don't worry! I don't take up a whole lotta room.”

  I wished I had this legendary Archangel blade in my possession right then. Not because it could supposedly save the world, but because I wanted to run myself through with it. Dying and getting shuttled off to Hell till the end of time didn't sound half bad when compared to acting as Germaine's personal chauffeur.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “And that's why I don't actually eat birds. Spiders my size can do it, but the beaks are just too damn hard to digest.” Germaine remained perched atop my shoulder, and was discussing the most disgusting shit imaginable. We'd somehow managed to leave the Underground without the loud-mouthed spider drawing the attention of every passerby, and were presently walking past Mona's to the path that would lead us back to the alley behind Yao's.

  When the three of us materialized in the dim alley, Germaine gave the closest thing to a whistle a spider was capable of. “Boy, I haven't been in Detroit for a long time. When last I was in Detroit, I was still a human, for starters. And the Lions were having a good year, too. How're the Lions these days? Better than the Browns, I hope. We don't get a whole lot of Earthly sports reporting in the Beyond, so I haven't been keeping up over the years.” He gave a toss of his tiny legs. “For all I know, all of the players I used to follow are dead and gone now.”

  “I don't really watch sports,” I muttered, craning my neck away from him.

  Joe snickered. “Yeah, Lucy is more interested in artwork. He's a sensitive, artsy type.”

  The spider guffawed. “Lucy? Ain't no demon ever had a name like Lucy. What's your name, demon? Have we met before?”

  I gnashed my teeth for a minute before replying. “The demon inside of me is called Gadreel.”

  This seemed to impress the spider, because for a minute there, he actually shut the fuck up. “Gadreel? The fallen angel Gadreel?” he asked, stunned. “That's incredible. You know, usually when you see a Demon-Heart, it's a low-level grunt's heart they've used. You got royalty inside of you, kid. Hope you're bein' a good vessel and all of that. Down below, the name 'Gadreel' opens some doors.”

  “Good to know,” I replied. Then, gulping, I decided to try my luck. Freaky though he was, this annoying spider seemed to know a lot more about demons than me or the guys back at Veiled Order HQ did. “So... I kind of rushed into this demon thing and didn't know that I was destined to burn in Hell after death. There, uh, any way to get around that?”

  Germaine laughed so hard he was left sucking wind. “Get a load of this guy!” he said, reaching out towards Joe. “No, sir. You're one-hundred percent boned. The literature's pretty firm on that.”

  I gulped. “E-even if I use my demonic powers for good? If I try to be a nice guy, and--”

  “Nah. Still goin' to Hell, friend. God don't care if you're a swell dude. You've got bonafide demon blood running in your veins now; your souls are all caught up in one another. Where he goes in the afterlife, well, that's where you're headed. Sorry to break it to ya. Real shitty of those Veiled Order guys not to tell you ahead of time, though. Bet you're having a spot of buyer's remorse, eh?”

  That was an understatement.

  “This sword,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Where we gonna find it?”

  “You're all business, I like that,” replied Germaine. “I'm going to have to make a call. Got this buddy who runs an armory. It's not so far from my shop. Spends summers living in Camden, working as a manager at a TGI Fridays. I'll call him and see if he can't get us an in. Last I heard, the sword, along with a lot of other awesome shit, was kept there. Famous buyers interested in rare weapons use the place to store their goods, kinda like a bank vault. Dunno who the current owner is, but we're just borrowin' it to save the world. I'm sure they'll understand.”

  “Wait, this dude owns a warehouse full of artifacts but he works at a chain restaurant? Who do you think you're fooling?” I asked. “Joe, this spider's full of shit. We should take him to HQ so that Kubo can lay into him.”

  Germaine sighed. “Say what you will, but TGI Fridays offers a competitive retirement plan.”

  We left the alley, starting out into the parking lot where my Corvette was waiting. I fished the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the doors.

  “This your ride?” asked the spider incredulously. “Your bosses are takin' good care of you, I see! I'm riding shotgun.”

  While I climbed into the car, Germaine jumped off of me and stationed himself in the warm passenger seat. Joe was forced to squeeze into the back.

  “Might want to buckle up,” I said to Germaine. “Oh, wait. You can't use a seatbelt, can you? Because you're a spider.”

  Unfazed, Germaine skittered up the back of his seat and glared at Joe. “Why's he still going on about that? Is he ever going to get over it?”

  I cranked the AC and roared out of the parking lot. “Where to? HQ? I guess we should let the Chief know we found his, uh... guy. What instructions did Kubo give you, Joe? What're we supposed to do now?”

  Joe was already in the process of dialing Kubo's number. “Hey, Chief. It's Joe. Me and Lucy are here with Germaine. We picked him up, and he thinks he has an idea about how to stop Agamemnon.”

  Germaine interrupted. “Is that the fella who wrote the letter? Ah, give it here. I'll talk to him.”

  “Hold on, Chief. He wants to talk to you himself.” Carefully, Joe reached forward and set the black cellphone on the seat. Germaine then huddled his furry bulk over it and cradled it with his limbs.

  “Hey, it's Germaine Fox here, I got your letter. I'm here with your boys, Lucy and, uh... the one with the slicked back hair like an extra from Grease. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do for ya. Got this buddy, Dennis, who works at the Celestial Armory. There's a sword there that should be able to compete with the Scythe of Thanatos. I'm gonna help them find it, but first we're going to have to find someone who can wield the thing. Lucy here won't be a good fit. Yeah, yeah, that's right. The sword will make the wielder immune to the scythe's blight.” At this junction, Germaine turned to look at me. “Kills a demon with a single blow, too.”

  I admit I swerved a little. “It can what?”

  “Yeah, all right, man. I'll talk to you later. We're going to visit Lucy's pad and get to know one another a little better. Meet us there? I'll try and get ahold of Dennis, too.” When the call was finished, Germaine pushed the phone off of the seat and then reoriented himself, facing the dash. “Says he might stop by for a visit. Wants to make sure you don't mess everything up, big guy.”

  “That sword can kill a demon? Are you being serious right now?” I tried to envision a scenario in which my retrieving this weapon was a good thing, but kept coming up empty. I was pretty sure that, if such a weapon existed, the best thing would be for it to stay far, far away from me. In the wrong hands, it could... “That asshole Percy is going to end up with the sword, isn't he?” I asked, shifting my rearview mirror so that I was staring back at Joe. “He's gonna run in there with his angel sword, save the day and then hack me into pieces. That's how this is going to go, isn't it?”

  “Who's Percy?” asked the spider.

  “He's a hunter,” offered Joe. “He's been working with us on this case. Pretty tough guy and really good with a sword. He got roughed up last night during a fight with the necromancer's horde, but he's probably the best choice for this angel weapon you're talking about. He carries this big blade, with a bone for a hilt.”

  “Sounds badass,” replied Germaine.

  “Are you sure there's no other weapon that'll work here? Having the angel sword is n
ice and all, but Agamemnon, the necromancer, is a damn good fighter. What if Percy can't handle him?” I held my breath.

  “He doesn't have to run laps around the guy, just has to cut him real good,” was Germaine's reply. “Seeing as how the necromancer's hyped up on death magic, it'll be a one-hit K-O. And never mind the undead. They won't even be able to come near him if he's holding the thing. It'll be a sealed deal-- if we can just find the sword.”

  “And if we don't? What then?” I asked.

  Germaine gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, then I guess we'll just have to send you in, to bitch and complain till the necromancer decides he's had enough and kills himself. You're a real drag, you know that, Lucy? I've never known a demon to whine this much. You've got the one and only Germaine Fox in your car. Relax. We're gonna do this up right and you won't have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. May as well start planning the victory party. Open bar, buffet and strippers-- the whole shebang. For the record, I prefer brunettes.”

  It didn't matter how much the boisterous arachnid in my passenger seat tried to smooth things over: I was panicking. This sword we were looking for could do me in with a single cut and deliver me to that fiery oblivion I'd been stressing out over for a while now. And with my luck, Percy was going to be the one wielding it. He was a shoe-in, a talented swordsman. He also happened to bear me a grudge; he'd already tried to kill me once, and wasn't altogether fond of demons. After the way I'd messed everything up the night before in the woods and nearly gotten him killed, it didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what he might do with me if a fancy demon-killing sword just dropped into his lap.

  We arrived at my place. I stepped out of the car, pacing around the lot while Joe crawled out of the back seat. Germaine followed, dashing up my pant leg and glancing around. “So, which place is yours?” he asked.

  ***

  “I was expecting something a little nicer, considering the type of car you drive,” said Germaine, crawling slowly across my kitchen counter. “This place is all right, I guess. It'll do, anyway.”

  “What, are you moving in now? Fuck off.” I reached into the fridge, pulling out a pair of beers and offering Joe one. When he refused, I wrenched off both caps and decided to enjoy two beers, chugging them one after another.

  “Why do you bother drinking that?” asked the spider. “Won't get you drunk. A Demon-Heart is a real special kind of organism. When you're possessed, drugs and alcohol can still mess with you. But when you've got a demon's heart in your body, they won't do a thing. The demon's got your organs working overtime to filter all of the bad shit out. For that matter, it's keeping you young, too. You'll never die of old age, disease or poisoning with Gadreel inside of you, but the minute you do kick the bucket, it ain't gonna be too pleasant.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I said, throwing my beer across the room. The bottle narrowly avoided Germaine, who raced into the sink to take cover. “Remind me again, why don't you? You don't think I know that? Ever since I found out I've hardly been able to think about anything else! Not exactly looking forward to the afterlife over here. Can we just stop talking about it? I wanna declare a moratorium on discussing what'll happen to me after I'm dead.”

  Joe, sweet guy that he was, stepped in to console me. “You know, there's always a loophole with this kind of thing. Maybe it's not a certainty, Lucy. Maybe you'll be able to go to Heaven when the time comes, and--”

  “Your pretty face is going to Hell, kid,” interjected Germaine. “And the sooner you make peace with that, the better.”

  “Well... like you said, he won't die of old age. So it isn't something he'll have to worry about for a really long time, right?” offered Joe, opening the fridge and fishing out a beer. He decided he needed a drink after all.

  “Sure, unless Percy the swordsman decides to run me through with this special sword after he's done with Agamemnon. Did you ever consider that?” I sat down at the kitchen table, head in my hands.

  “He wouldn't do that,” replied Joe firmly.

  “Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure?” I still had the taste of beer in my mouth, but the high was completely absent. I wished just then that I could get shit-faced one more time. To drink myself into a coma so that this mess would simply go away. It would have been so much easier.

  “Because,” said Joe after a time, “he's a good guy. He looks out for the people on his team.”

  That was it? I was supposed to leave my fate in Percy's hands because he was a “good guy”? Sounded like one hell of a gamble. “Whatever.” I pointed to Germaine. “You should call your friend and find out if we can get ahold of that sword. Agamemnon could strike at any time, so the sooner we get ahold of it, the better.”

  The spider rested its bulk on the lip of the sink. “We're short on time, but I don't think you have to worry about the necromancer attacking the city tonight, at least. He'll wait till the new moon.”

  “Huh?” asked Joe and I in tandem.

  “The new moon. Did I stutter?”

  “What about the new moon?” I asked. “What reason would he have to wait until the new moon?”

  “Well,” began Germaine, “I'm sure you know by now what happens to you on the night of the new moon, right? That ain't no coincidence. The forces of darkness are empowered on the night of a new moon. The necromancer and his horde will be at their strongest that night; makes sense to me that he'd put off his big show till the time is right. You didn't know that?”

  Fair enough. We had an extra day to come up with this sword and track down Agamemnon-- that is, if Germaine's thinking was correct. The odds were still stacked against us and I didn't like where any of this was going, but our lot had improved very slightly.

  “We didn't know that, no,” admitted Joe. “But if what you're saying is true, we still only have a day to stop this war from going down. Mind calling your friend so we can get busy? Sun's going to be going down and the city will be crawling with zombies soon.”

  “You do that,” I said. “I'm going to go lay down in bed. I need to clear my head. Let me know when you hear back and we'll get moving.” I slid my phone across the counter towards Germaine and started for my room.

  ***

  If you want to, you can skip this part. Instead of napping, I engaged in a good bit of moody brooding. Heck of a time for me to go to pieces, but I had a lot on my plate. I tossed and turned in bed like an angsty teen and tried to work out my shit.

  So, I was damned, and Germaine's advice was that I needed to get over it. Make peace with it.

  That was easy for him to say.

  When he died, he was off to Spider Heaven, or whatever.

  But me? I've read bits and pieces of Dante's Inferno. I knew what was coming. There was a bonafide demon expert in my apartment and he was completely certain that my soul was bound for Hell. Usually when I encountered something in life that I couldn't change, acceptance was my go-to.

  Not so, in this case.

  Up until the fact of my damnation was made known, I hadn't actually put much thought into the existence of a Heaven or Hell. My time had been taken up by stuff like werewolves, zombies and witches, and I'd had precious little time to reflect on the bigger questions in life. I've never been a religious guy, had always figured that when I died, that would be it. End of story.

  I liked it better that way.

  Outside my room I could hear Germaine chattering with Joe. I held my pillow over my face to drown out his annoying voice. According to him, this angelic sword was the only way out of this mess. If we got ahold of it and cut down Agamemnon, then hooray for mankind!

  But ol' Lucian? Well, there was no telling how I might fare in the deal. Even though Percy and Kanta were playing nice right now, who could say how long that might last? The mere existence of weapons like this one scared me out of my wits. Let's say Percy didn't skewer me the minute he got his hands on it. Someone else down the line certainly might.

  This was the sort
of thing that could keep me up at night.

  I sat up, rubbing at my eyes and sniffing at the air.

  No, goddammit. I wasn't crying. The pillow was dusty and it made my eyes water. You know you've got to replace those every few months because the dust mites just get out of control, right?

  Well, Gadreel... I don't know what's going to happen to us when this is all over. But I do know we have to do what we can to save Detroit. I want to save the people of this city, and everything else I've tried so far has ended in failure. That necromancer is tough. If this sword is our only chance, then we'll try and find it. As for the consequences... let's worry about those later, eh?

  My heart twisted in my chest, and I could almost feel the veins and arteries attached to it getting knotted. What this meant I couldn't say; if I had to guess, though, it probably meant the demon wasn't fond of my plan. Self-preservation and all of that. Who could blame him? Gadreel, a fallen angel, had no reason to care about the city or the millions living in it.

  I patted my chest, quieting down my heart and taking in a deep breath. “Calm down there, bud. I tell you what, let's go out there and have some cake.” I stood up, straightening out my clothes and tossing my pillow back onto the head of the bed. “Worry about the necromancer first. Then, after the fight is over, we can handle the angel sword. Don't sweat it.”

  I heard another voice outside my room; Kubo's deep drawl boomed in the air as he closed the door to my apartment. I stepped out of the bedroom groggily.

  And then, looking out into the kitchen, I froze in my tracks.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “What in the hell do you think you're doing?” I screamed. “That isn't for you!”

  Germaine met my furious gaze with his many eyes, up to his pedipalps in German chocolate cake. His legs were covered in frosting, and his forelimbs lifted small bits of the ruined desert to his waiting mouthparts.