Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1)

by N. L. Gervasio

  “Well, they’ve taken a part of him away. No doubt Ash has those hands hidden somewhere.” She smiled at Terry’s confusion. “Demons like to hide things.”

  He sat back and stared at her. “What the hell for?”

  “Well, like I said, it ties the soul to them. If the soul can’t find the missing item, it will remain subordinate to the demon forever with no chance of escape. It’s really pointless, to be honest. None of the souls know to even look for the missing item, or items, as it were.”

  Terry looked at the photos.

  “Yes, it’s what you think it is.”

  “Demon script. The same message?”

  “Yes.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. She’d seen the stern look of his more than enough over the past week. “What’s the message, Armen?”

  “I’m having difficulty translating it into English so that you’ll understand it.” She then noticed a bag sitting on the desk. “What did you bring me?”

  “Your favorite—food.”

  “Smells yummy.” She reached for the bag and pulled out two large sandwiches, and handed one to Terry. Then she peeled the wrapper back and took a bite. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Glad you like it.” He took a bite of his sandwich. Then pointed at the picture. “So, this is Ashto—”

  Armen waved her hand quickly and shook her head. She swallowed the bite she’d been chewing on. “Don’t say her name!” She inhaled deeply and released it slowly. “Just call her Ash. That way she won’t appear.”

  “She’ll appear if I say her name?”

  “Did I appear when your father summoned me?”

  “Well, yeah, but she didn’t appear when I said it the other day.”

  “Not to us, but you invoked her by saying her name. Mr. Jones there has been dead for two days, and was missing for twenty-four hours before that, so yeah, she appeared.”

  “Meaning what, she wasn’t hanging around the planet somewhere?”

  “No, she wasn’t.” Armen started to take another bite.

  “Where was she?”

  “On the edge of Gehenna,” Armen said and took the bite.

  “Where the hell is that?”

  “Gehenna? The void, the Darkness, where we were all cast. Not a pleasant place to sit around in, especially if you’re one of the Fallen. Even demons skirt the edges of it and stay the hell out. It’s dark and dreary. That’s the place I was telling you about, where you lose yourself. Sariel got me out of there somehow. Still haven’t figured out how he did it or even got out himself.”

  Terry blinked rapidly and stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious.” She picked up her water bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a drink.

  “What about Hell? You said you were in Hell.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there too.” She could tell he didn’t quite understand what she was talking about. “What do you think happens when you die?”

  “You go to Heaven or Hell.”

  “Not exactly.” She placed the water bottle back on the desk, folded her hands on her lap, and leaned forward. “If you’ve lived a good life, like your mother did, you go into the Light. If not, you go into the Darkness. You wait there, in either place, until the End of Days or Judgment Day. Some souls don’t go to either place, but wander the Earth in spirit form. Some call that Limbo, or even Purgatory. Some of it is by your own choosing; some, not so much. It’s in the texts, Terry. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

  He shrugged. “Well, religious teachings have altered over the years.”

  Armen let out a short laugh. “That’s the damn truth of it.” She could practically see the wheels turning inside his head before he focused on her again. “Wait, but your dad speaks to Him. Why don’t you know that from your father?”

  Terry chuckled. “If you were God, would you tell every little secret you had to a human?”

  “I suppose not,” Armen replied.

  “Even with my dad, it’s still about faith, Armen. We don’t tell our kids everything, and we are all His children. I vaguely recall that no one’s in Hell yet, but didn’t realize it worked the same for Heaven. I remember that the fires of Hell would be after the End of Days.” He paused, fidgeting, picking at a crumb on the desk. “Did you find out what you wanted to know from my father?”

  “Not really. Well, I guess I already know the answers, buried deep within my mind. I just haven’t reached the point of discovering them yet.” She bit her lower lip to keep from crying. A breakdown was the last thing she needed at work.

  Terry nodded. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “I know,” she said, and picked at her sandwich.

  “So, is there any clue you can give me about this message?” He pointed to the photo.

  She sighed. “Well, it’s not just that I’m having trouble with the translation, but it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “Try me, then. What’cha got?”

  She focused on the photo and moved to point out one of the symbols. “This one, it means birth. Outside of Jesus, no one’s been born in any realm for roughly two thousand years. But it has nothing to do with him because this symbol”—she pointed to another figure etched in blood—“means female. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this script, so I’m not certain about that one. This one near the end means death, and this one over here means reborn. It’s like it all points to the Lamb of God and a sacrifice, with exception to the female aspect. But even without the female aspect, it can’t be correct because, as we all know, Jesus was roughly two thousand years ago . . . unless He’s coming back. Holy shit.”

  Terry chewed slowly, contemplating her words. “Interesting.”

  “Confusing is more like it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s talking about you. I mean, my dad did say something about you.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then apparently I was born, which would mean I have a Mother, and I do not recall ever hearing a word uttered about Her.” She paused, staring at the photo. “And that last one—death—means that I’m not going to survive this thing, if what you’re saying is true.”

  “Then let’s pray it’s not about you. Unless death is referring to the moment when you sacrificed yourself to save my father.”

  “Doubtful. This biblical shit is so damn cryptic. It could be like a tarot card and mean something that has nothing to do with actual death.”

  Terry continued to eat, and she stared at the photo, tilting her head to view it better from a different angle. She pointed to the final symbol. “That one means Darkness eternal.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” His phone rang, and he detached it from the leather case on his belt and answered it. “Detective Armstrong.” He listened carefully and hung up the phone. “Got one.”

  “Shit,” Armen said with a shake of her head. “I was hoping to get through the first night back without a call.”

  “Yeah,” he replied somberly and stood up. “Coming?”

  “You’ll be calling me anyway.” She hopped off the desk, rewrapped her sandwich, and placed it on the desk before grabbing her water bottle. Then she reached for Terry’s pea coat and flung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “After you, sweetie.” He held the door open for her.

  She hit him in his hard-as-a-rock stomach when she walked by. “Don’t call me that at work.”

  Terry laughed and stepped out after her. They ran into Jasmine in the hall, who was entirely too delighted to see them together, judging from the broadening smile across her full lips.

  “Where are you two going?”

  “Corpse,” Armen said and walked into the elevator.

  “How romantic,” Jasmine quipped, and Armen flipped her off before the doors closed completely. She heard Jasmine’s laughter as the elevator started to move, and it took all she had to stifle her own.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mmhmm.” He shook
his head. “Women.”

  Armen carefully inspected the body as Terry watched.

  “Wow, she doesn’t even leave them alive.” He knelt next to her. “At least they’re not suffering.”

  This one’s throat was slit as well, but he didn’t appear to be missing anything that Armen could see right away. There also weren’t any signs of a struggle, which Terry likely found odd, but Armen didn’t.

  “No. It’s not her style. She prefers to get the suffering in up front and then go for the kill. Sariel enjoyed—” Shit. “Never mind.”

  Terry shrugged. “At least we don’t have to worry about triggers then, right?”

  Armen shook her head. “No, just the fact that she’s building an army.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.” She ran her gloved fingers over the man’s chest, stopping abruptly just below his ribcage. Beneath the flesh and bone felt different than it should have. Hardened where it shouldn’t be. “I need to bag this one and get him back to my lab.”

  “What’s the rush?” Terry looked at her hand as she pressed it firmly against the body.

  She looked him in the eye and moved her head closer to his. “Because there’s a present inside him and it wouldn’t be good for anyone else to see it.”

  “I’ll help.” He reached for the bag she’d brought with her. They bagged the body, lifted it onto the gurney, and wheeled it out to her van.

  Once they had him inside, Armen closed the doors. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Terry, I’m sure you have work to do.”

  “And this is part of it.”

  “To help me dissect a human being? I don’t think your stomach can handle it.”

  “You’d be surprised what my stomach can handle,” he replied with a smirk. “Stop arguing with me for once. I’ll follow you.” He turned and headed to his squad car before she could reply.

  Armen sighed and walked around the side of the van. She opened the door and climbed in, then shut out the cold quickly. More fickle Arizona winter-time weather. At night, the temperature generally held around 50 or 60 degrees, but she could feel the frigid air tonight and knew that it would hit freezing.

  As she drove through downtown Phoenix, she reached over to adjust the heat. For some reason, it just wasn’t heating up inside the van. She’d have to remind herself to let maintenance know about it. The radio hadn’t worked in a long time, either, and tonight she wished it did because it was too silent, aside from the unhealthy rumbling of the engine. Armen hated the silence. It reminded her of the Darkness, never gave her a good feeling, and her nerves were already on edge, especially after feeling that lump inside the corpse in the back of her van. She had an idea of what it might be, but she needed to be certain.

  Her ears perked at a distant cry and the sound of a thick plastic bag rustling—from the inside—as though fingers were clawing at it to find the opening. When she stopped at the next light, she turned around and stared at the body bag. For several seconds, it didn’t move, and she told herself to stop worrying. The light changed to green and she moved forward. The noise came again, and she stopped at the next traffic light and turned to view the body bag once more. She focused intently on it, but it sat perfectly still. Armen shook her head. You’re letting your imagination get the best of you.

  Vibrant sound burst through the air, cutting the silence and making her jump. Her hand went to her waist and she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, which was one hell of a struggle with the seatbelt attached. It continued to ring until she touched the screen and answered with a hasty hello.

  “Wow, are you okay?” Terry asked.

  “No, I’m not. The silence in this damn van has my mind creating all sorts of noises.”

  Terry chuckled. “You’re fine, Armen.”

  “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you behind me?”

  “Yeah. I was just wondering if you were ever going to go on this green light.”

  “What?” She looked up. The light was green, and from the looks of the flashing “Don’t Walk” sign, it’d been green for a little while. “Shit.” She started to move again and held the phone to her ear. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You want me to hang on so you have some distraction from your imagination?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Okay.” She could faintly hear his radio in the background. “So, dinner Sunday night. I was thinking about the Salt Cellar. You like seafood, right?”

  “Isn’t that place expensive?” She stopped at the next red light. She hated driving through the downtown area. The traffic lights were all a quarter of a mile apart. They’d found the body at one of the new condos. That would really bring up the value of them now.

  “Don’t worry about how much it costs, and answer my question.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I like seafood.”

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, either.”

  Armen laughed. “Damn, you know me well.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” he said with a chuckle.

  Something mimicked her laugh and she froze. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, “Terry.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Driving the van made her vulnerable and Armen didn’t like feeling vulnerable. She cursed her assistant for calling in sick. That boy had better be in traction or something along those lines; otherwise, he was bound to be when Armen got hold of him. “I just heard an echo of my laugh, but I’m not hearing an echo of my voice.”

  “Pull over.”

  “Maybe it’s just because the van’s so quiet.” She knew it was wrong. She viewed her mirrors to see if there were any cars around her. There was traffic everywhere. It was the weekend—and one in the morning. The bars were still open and the downtown area held many attractions for people.

  “Armen, pull over now,” Terry demanded.

  “I can’t. Not here. There are too many people.”

  “Fine.” He flipped on his lights and siren. He pulled around her, sped up and eased through traffic at the next red light. “Follow me.”

  She flipped on her lights, pushed down on the gas pedal, and kept up with him as he wound his way through traffic. The plastic shifted again, loud enough for her to hear it over the sirens. Her eyes went to the rearview mirror. She couldn’t see anything but the back windows.

  “Talk to me, Armen.”

  “Nothing’s happening yet.” She continued to follow him. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Away from the public.”

  A loud thud hit the floor of the van, and Armen sat up straight to see in the mirror. “You’d better hurry.” She still couldn’t see anything, and it would be too dangerous to turn around while driving. “Maybe we should’ve stayed at that place with it.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing right now.” He eased through another red light. He drove to the other side of the ballpark and arena, past the federal building, courthouse, and their building, and through the train yard.

  “My bad,” she said, and tried to get a quick glimpse behind her when Terry slowed down. The body bag had fallen off the gurney and to the floor. Hadn’t she strapped it down? “Shit, Terry. The bag’s on the floor.” Armen turned her eyes back to the road and slammed on the brakes. She’d nearly rear-ended Terry’s squad car. Terry took a quick turn into a garage. “Are you crazy?”

  “Just follow.” He swerved his way around the corners of the garage as quickly as possible.

  Armen tried to keep up with him.

  The phone went dead and she abruptly stopped the van on the fifth level due to the clawing and scraping and plastic tearing in the back. In the distance, she heard Terry’s car squeal to a stop not long after. The sound of his car door slamming shut thundered through the garage, even over the hissing coming from the back of her van.

  She moved out of her seat, but lost precious time trying to untangle herself from the seatbelt, as she was no match for the t
hing crawling out of the body bag.

  “Armen!” Terry’s voice bounced off concrete blocks and walls.

  The last she saw of him, he stood twenty feet away from the van, his Glock drawn and aimed directly at the windshield.

  And her.

  “Armen!”

  She picked up the nearest thing to a weapon she could find and stood in the cargo compartment just behind the front seats, facing off with the creature. It hissed again.

  Armen pulled the ring and depressed the lever to activate the fire extinguisher.

  The windshield cracked, beginning at a small dot, and then slowly spider-webbed from there, each line of webbing cracking one millimeter at a time in a jerk-stop motion. As soon as one would stop, another would jump again from elsewhere on the web.

  Armen struggled for breath after slamming into that windshield, but she still managed to hit the demon upside the head with the fire extinguisher. She saw Terry move behind the van through the windows—barely—and swung at the demon again.

  The demon retaliated—hitting Armen hard in the chest with both hands—and she flew backward again.

  The windshield shattered this time, and Armen hit the garage floor with a thud, a roll, and a grunt. Terry jumped around the side of the van again. Armen lay on the concrete in a crumpled heap, groaning, and he ran to her side.

  “Are you okay?” He knelt to help her up.

  She let out a frustrated growl. “I hate being human.”

  Terry chuckled. “Well, I suggest you get over it. You’re going to be human for a while. Also, we weren’t meant to fly.”

  She glared at him, but her attention soon moved to the van that shook violently. “Shit.”

  “What’s in there?” Armen watched as Terry alternated between checking the exits and tracking the activity of the creature in the van. She knew he was concerned that before too long someone would surely enter the garage to get to their vehicle. It was Armen’s primary concern too, aside from the fact that a demon was about to remove itself from its steel cage.

  Armen shook her head. “You really don’t want to know.”

  “If I have to fight the damn thing, I want to know,” he said and pulled her to her feet.