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

by N. L. Gervasio

  “How in the world are we supposed to kill that?” He sped down the ramp.

  “I’m thinking.” Armen faced forward again. “Watch out!”

  Terry mashed his hand against the horn to get the pedestrians that suddenly appeared ahead of them out of the way, but Armen had a feeling that their scrambling, along with screaming, had nothing to do with Terry’s horn blaring.

  They sped past the small group with the Hound from Hell right on their tail.

  “Shit! Tell me he didn’t hurt any of them.”

  Armen looked back. “No, he’s still coming after us.” Cerberus snapped at one man who was too close. “As long as they stay out of reach, they’ll be fine.”

  “I did not want to hear that.” He cranked the steering wheel, screeching the tires around yet another sharp corner.

  “I know. It’s like a bad werewolf movie.” Two more levels. Come on. The bars would be closing soon, and she worried that they’d encounter more pedestrians. Drunk ones, at that, which would be ten times worse.

  Terry zoomed down the ramp to the second level and spun the tires around the turn, narrowly missing another car’s tail end. Cerberus took care of it for him when he shoulder-checked the vehicle. Its alarm sounded, which made the beast angrier, and he stomped his large paw on another car, causing it to crash into the one next to it.

  Once around the last corner, Terry sped up. Almost there. Armen could see the street below. A short round woman with straight brown hair appeared in their path, and Terry laid on the horn once more. The man with her quickly pulled her back, and Terry sped past them and onto the street.

  Armen hastily turned around to see where Cerberus was. Unfortunately, the woman was too close, and with a snap of his jaws from the nearest head, Cerberus decapitated her.

  “Oh . . . wow.”

  “What? What happened?” Terry swerved around traffic.

  “Yep, bad werewolf movie.” Armen turned in her seat to face forward again.

  “Okay, we need to think about where we’re going to lead this thing.” Terry reached forward to flip on his siren and lights, but Armen grabbed his hand.

  “Don’t. That sound will just make it worse. It’ll draw more attention than we want.”

  “How am I going to get around this shit, then?” He yanked the wheel to the left to stop from hitting a car, and then quickly jerked it to the right. “And FYI, a giant fucking three-headed dog running through the streets is going to draw some damn attention.”

  Armen growled, mostly because he was right. “You’re just going to have to navigate through it and get us away from all this damn traffic.” Armen turned to look back and saw Cerberus barreling into cars left and right, knocking some of them over and running over the tops of others. “And quickly, before he destroys everything and hurts more people.” She faced forward again and placed a hand against her forehead. “Oh, this is so going to end up on the morning news.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the morning news. Maybe it’ll wake people up.” He flipped on the lights anyway.

  Armen nodded absently, thinking about how to destroy Cerberus. The main concern, of course, was not getting hurt in the process, which seemed impossible considering the three heads with very large, sharp teeth. How do you kill a three-headed dog? There was decapitation, which instantly brought back the image of the woman at the garage entrance. That would mean three in a row and would be too damn difficult. She looked in the side mirror and watched the destruction taking place behind them, and she sighed before looking at the scepter. Its blades weren’t long enough to remain out of reach of the beastie’s snapping jowls. Then she looked at Terry. Would silver bullets work on Cerberus? He was much larger than the minions. She supposed it was worth trying. She shifted her eyes to view Terry’s fiercely focused face.

  “We need to trap him. So he can’t move around too much.”

  “He’s as big as a truck,” Terry replied. “What do you suggest?”

  “Well, think of a place that a truck can’t fit through that will hold him still so we can kill him.”

  “This isn’t Rome. We Americans like big open spaces for our gigantic automobiles.”

  “That’s because you’re all over-compensating for something.”

  “What was that?” He took a sharp right down Van Buren, which was only two blocks away from their starting point.

  “Nothing,” she replied.

  “We need backup, or something.” Terry grabbed his radio and told dispatch what was happening. The woman didn’t believe him at first, until Peterson called in after hearing the all-call. After running a few red lights, which was dangerous enough with the lights and sirens, the next intersection they approached had a police car on each side blocking traffic, which relieved Armen to no end because it meant they wouldn’t T-bone someone. She hoped.

  “Tell me what you’ve got,” Peterson’s voice called over the radio.

  Armen grabbed the radio and held it up to speak. “Cerberus.”

  “Get the f—” Static garbled his words, and then he came back clearly. “How big is he?”

  “About seven feet at the shoulder. And probably wider than Armstrong’s squad car.”

  “That’s about the shuddering truth of it,” Terry said.

  “Holy crap, really?” Peterson asked, his voice crackling. “Does he really have three heads?”

  “Yes, and very large teeth.” She leaned over to get a look at the speedometer. “We’re going about sixty right now and he’s having no trouble keeping up.”

  “And he’s not going to wind down, either,” Peterson said. “I hope you have a full tank.”

  “Three-fourths. We need to trap him. Any ideas?” They whizzed under the overpass for the I-10 freeway.

  “Go faster.” He chuckled. “Give me a minute. I just heard where you are.”

  “Well, hurry it up. We haven’t got all night,” Armen replied with her own unique tone, the one that implied she was just razzing him.

  The radio remained silent except for the chatter from other officers witnessing the event and giving information on their whereabouts. Armen noticed that their speed had increased. Now they were going seventy, and Cerberus was only about four or five car lengths behind. He showed no indication of slowing down. One officer had the bright idea of pulling out quickly behind them when they sped past and placed his car as an obstacle for Cerberus to overcome. Shouts over the radio came next. Cerberus sailed over the top of it, taking the lights off with his back paws.

  “Peterson,” Armen said firmly into the radio.

  “Head up to McDowell . . . . That idiot, I can’t believe he did that,” he said in the background, not really talking to Armen. He returned to her. “There’s a National Guard base over there. They know you’re coming and they’re ready. Cooper, what the hell were you thinking? Did the three heads not clue you in to the danger?”

  Armen interrupted the tirade. “What the hell are they going to do at the National Guard, blast him with a tank?”

  “If they can get him positioned right, yes,” Peterson replied.

  Armen could hear the smile in his voice when he said that. “You’re enjoying this.” Truth be known, she was kind of enjoying it herself.

  “Damn straight. It’s not every day you get to take down a mythological creature. Just wish I could see him. I’m on my way to the base now, but I don’t know if I’ll make it in time.”

  “Be careful. I may need you later to help me get rid of Ash.”

  “You bet. I’ve got some ideas on that one too.”

  “She was still in the garage when we left.”

  There was a pause, and then Peterson cleared his throat. “I know.”

  Armen closed her eyes tight. “Damn it.”

  “How many?” Terry asked, and Armen repeated the question into the radio.

  “Five,” Peterson replied.

  “Bitch,” Terry muttered. “I’m going to cut her dog into several little pieces for that.”


  Terry made a hard left turn onto 40th Street and sped up again. Armen told Peterson where they were, even though he likely already knew via the GPS tracker. It gave her something to focus on. The turn Cerberus made was much shorter and he nearly took out the traffic light with it.

  Armen looked back at Cerberus to see how far back he was. “Terry, we’re going to need more time between us if they intend to blow his ass up.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Patrol cars littered the streets, keeping traffic at bay so they could escape the beast. A news van appeared ahead of them and she laughed.

  “I told you it’d be on the morning news.” She turned in her seat to face Terry so the camera wouldn’t catch her face. Terry turned sharply to the right, sending the back end of the car fishtailing again. Armen hung on for dear life, trying desperately to not have her head end up in Terry’s lap. “Don’t spin us out of control.”

  “Would you like to drive?” Terry snapped. “I’m trying to not kill us.”

  “On McDowell, right?” Peterson’s voice came over the radio. “Oh wait, I see you . . . and him . . . Holy Hannah!”

  “Big and nasty, isn’t he? Where are you?”

  “About a block back. The gates are open. When you get inside, turn to the right and hit the dirt, round up near the mountain—”

  “That is not a mountain,” Armen replied.

  “Mountain, hill, whatever, just round up to it. They’re positioned so that if they miss, it’ll hit the mountain.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Is she always like that, Armstrong?”

  Armen grinned. “He can’t answer that right now. He’s trying to drive.”

  “Yes,” Terry shouted before she let go of the button.

  Peterson’s laughter came across the airwaves. “Lucky man.”

  “Not so lucky if I get us both killed,” Terry replied.

  Terry floored the gas pedal to create more distance between them and Cerberus, who was now about nine car lengths back. Of course, there was nothing safe about traveling nearly one hundred miles per hour down a city street. He moved the car to the right lane, intending to take a very wide left turn without losing much speed.

  And then there was the semi-truck coming over the mountain that would block his path to the gates if he didn’t time it just right.

  Armen was pretty sure her life was about to flash before her eyes as she braced herself.

  The guard at the gate watched with ever-widening eyes as Terry maneuvered the car, cutting across the path of the semi-truck, whose driver panicked and locked up his brakes. The semi skidded along the asphalt, tires bouncing on the trailer, making it swerve to its right. Soon, the trailer skidded and bounced on only four tires on one side until toppling over, taking the rig with it.

  “Damn it!”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Armen said.

  Terry took a sharp right upon entering the gate, headed into the dirt and toward the mountain. He drove along the fence, rounded the tank, and neared the top of the hill at the mountain’s base. Armen felt queasy and crossed an arm over her stomach. Terry zoomed past the tank’s aiming point as Cerberus leapt over the skidding semi-truck and barreled through the gate opening. Armen had no idea if the guard was out of reach of the beast’s snapping jowls, as the world had suddenly blurred on her. Soldiers directed Terry to stop at the base of boulders, their shouts heard amidst the chaos, and the car slid sideways when he slammed on the brakes. Armen clutched her belly with both arms as Terry jumped out of the car. After a pause, he ran around to the passenger side, and opened the door. She started to fall out, but Terry and the seatbelt caught her before she hit the dirt.

  “Come on, move it.”

  She fumbled at the contraption holding her hostage, pulled herself from the vehicle, and fell to her knees.

  “Armen, get up.” He grabbed her arm and quickly let go. “Shit, this is no time to get sick.”

  “Fuck y . . . ehhk.”

  Terry leaned over and pulled her hair back. “What was that again?”

  “Shut up.” She wiped her mouth, sat up, and teetered to the right.

  Terry held her steady. “Armen, sweetie, I’m extremely sorry for this, but there’s a very big three-headed dog that wants to eat us coming our way. We need to move . . . NOW!” He picked her up and popped her over his shoulder.

  She screamed at him, but her cries were lost in erupting gunfire. Cerberus had entered the field.

  Terry carried her around the boulders and leaned her up against one. She lurched forward and he jumped out of the way.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He propped her up against the large rock again and asked for some water. A canteen headed his way and he made her drink from it. “You’ve seen the worst shit there is to see out there.”

  Armen groaned. “Motion sickness.” She took another swig from the canteen and the coolness of the water penetrating her body ran in a wave over her. She shut her eyes tight in an attempt to quell the on-coming headache.

  Terry peeked around the boulders and Armen took in slow concentrated breaths between water relief and clenching eyes. “So, how exactly does that work with wings?” He looked back at her before returning his gaze to the spectacle on the other side of the boulders.

  “Not then. Now,” she snapped.

  “Cover your ears.” He slapped his hands over his ears.

  Armen dropped the canteen and had her ears covered a mere second before the blast. The ground quaked and the boulders shook. Terry peeked around the boulder again to view the heavy dust cloud. Silence fell on the air and they waited to see what had become of the beast.

  Gunfire resounded again, at close range.

  “Shit.”

  Armen watched his face, studying the expressions as he concentrated on the field. Finally, after his last colorful word, she spoke. “He needs to be killed with the scepter.” She knew it all along, but a small part of her had hoped, prayed, for something else to work. Either she or Terry would have to get close enough to kill him, and it was highly doubtful in her mind that whichever one of them it was, it wouldn’t be an easy escape from Death. She leaned over and picked up the canteen. The nausea had gone now, and she had a job to do.

  Terry grabbed her arm when she walked by. “Where are you going?”

  “One of us has to do it. It might as well be me.”

  “Excuse me, but why you? The scepter belongs to me.”

  “Actually, it belongs to my Father, but you can have yours call Him to ask if you can use it.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and continued walking. “Besides, I’m the warrior, not you.”

  “Damn, you’re a bitch when you want to do things your way.” He trotted to catch up to her.

  She walked up to a soldier, eyeing his canteen. “Is that full?” When he nodded, she smiled and asked, “Trade?” His brow quirked up, but he nodded once more and exchanged the canteens with her. “Thanks.” She turned and headed toward the car to fetch the scepter.

  “What do you need that for?” Terry asked, following her.

  Armen mumbled, her fingers moving over the open canteen. Then she lifted it over her head and dumped its contents onto herself.

  “What are you doing? You’ll freeze now.”

  “Hush.” She looked toward the not-so-quickly clearing dust cloud and leaned into the car to pick up the scepter.

  “Armen, I can’t let you do this.”

  She stood with the scepter in hand and eyed him. “What do you suggest, then? We keep trying to blow him to Kingdom Come?”

  Terry cocked his head to the side. “Funny, and no, it’s obviously not going to work.”

  “Then what? He needs to go bye-bye and this scepter is the only way to do it.”

  “We work together. If you want to be the one to slice him open, fine, but I’m helping you slay that godforsaken thing.”

  “Then I suggest you find a full canteen.” She walked to the back of the car.

  A soldier o
verheard their conversation and tossed him a canteen as he turned around. He nodded a thank you and ran over to Armen. “Now what?”

  She looked down at it. “Open it.” He opened the canteen and she mumbled once more, moving her fingers over the top. “Now pour it over you.”

  “Was that a blessing?”

  “Don’t question, just do it. We don’t have much time on our side here.”

  Terry did as she told him to. The icy water soaked his head, shoulders, and shirt. “Jes—”

  Armen glared at him briefly, but relaxed when he didn’t finish the name. Good. He was finally learning. She moved forward. “Come on.”

  “What are we going to do?” Terry walked alongside her, drawing his weapon out of habit.

  “I want you to try and shoot him, since you have the silver bullets.” She pointed at his gun. “That might distract him so I can sneak around.”

  “He has three heads, Armen. He’s going to be hard to sneak up on.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that.” She quickly placed her fingers to her lips.

  The dust was still thick, and Cerberus couldn’t be seen. Armen wondered if he’d escaped the field and would pounce on them from above. She immediately turned to the boulders, searching them. He wasn’t there. The CO had ceased all gunfire while she and Terry were in the field at the base of the mountain. Her apprehension increased for several reasons, one of which included the likely itchy trigger fingers of frightened soldiers who’d never seen anything like Cerberus before. She heard a moan coming from ahead. Terry moved forward, but she quickly stopped him. When he looked at her, she shook her head and then pointed to her ear.

  Moaning, brief and soft, and then loud again. Bones crunching the next second, followed by a scream of sheer pain and terror. Those were the sounds she wanted him paying attention to. Unfortunately, she couldn’t block out the whispers from the guards behind her, or the screams rising from Hell. Two shooting stars caught her eye, and she closed her eyes and swallowed her fear.