Demorn: Soul Fighter (The Asanti Series Book 3)

by David Finn

  ‘I’m glad you kept the future boots, kid.’

  ‘Did they get to you, too, Frank? Is that what happened?’

  Sinatra walked over to a small desk, leafing through a Batman comic with a curious expression. His ruby ring was blinking, dragging her eyes into an entrancing spell.

  Demorn asked, ‘What if it isn’t a spell? Have you ever asked yourself that?’

  He put the comic down. ‘A tip, kid. It’s a dark world sung to sleep by demon lullabies.’

  Sinatra pointed to the tinted windows. Kate floated in the glass like a dream, her long blonde hair loose. She was ghostly, only half real. The towers were gone. All Demorn could see were huge stone mausoleums behind the ghost. She wondered if Frank could see what she saw. It felt so personal, so close to her.

  ‘The Void has covered it. They’re preparing us all for annihilation.’

  His perfume was beautiful. She kept looking through the tinted glass.

  ‘Did they buy you, Frank? Just tell me. Did they buy you, too?’

  Sinatra saw something in her blazing eyes, she could tell. He crushed the half burnt cigarette under his foot.

  ‘Don’t squeeze the trigger on me, kid. Do that and you can kiss everything goodbye. Put your purple glasses on, the ones I gave you. The creatures haven’t touched me. I came here to help you, Demorn.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t need the glasses anymore, Boss. My magic eyes work just fine. The Void hasn’t taken you. You’re just old and getting older.’

  ‘So why ask?’

  Demorn’s expression was bland. ‘Just because the abyss hasn’t eaten you yet, doesn’t mean it hasn’t starting chewing on the inside.’

  Sinatra whistled. ‘Oh, you’re a grim one, aren’t you, Demorn?’

  Demorn fluttered her eyelashes and didn’t stop the smirk. Ruby triangles floated around them. She grabbed one. It was sharp and cold. The ruby glowed in her fist with a fitful fire. ‘Is there a way out, Boss? I need a way out.’

  Sinatra nodded slowly. ‘What’s out for you?’

  Demorn let the question sink in. She let go of the triangle. Kate softly vanished out of the glass. Frank still smelt of lavender and lilac, as he always had. He smelt just as beautiful as he had in the pre-dawn when she’d told him everything, when she’d bared her soul in Vegas all those late nights and early mornings ago. In a weird way, that broke her heart more than anything Kate could ever do.

  ‘I’ve got a secret, Boss.’

  His laugh was sad. ‘We’ve all got a million. It’s how we wind up in places like these.’

  She felt his hand slip. For the first time, Frank looked truly old.

  Demorn said, ‘We shouldn’t even be here should we? These Forts weren’t built for us. They were built for gods.’

  He squeezed her hand firmly. ‘The gods that came from the Void turned out to be demons who broke the world. They forced it on us, kid. Everything we’ve had to do. All these endless levels of bullshit.’

  Demorn laughed. ‘My secret feels stupid in the face of all this end of the world stuff.’

  ‘Singing songs for a living is stupid but I love it. Just spit it out.’

  Demorn couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying as she told him.

  She said, ‘I’m not trying to save Kate’s soul anymore. Everyone thinks I am but I’m not. I’ve resurrected her fully before. More than once.’

  Sinatra whistled. ‘And?’

  ‘I went all the way back to Chicago and made sure she didn’t die in a cafe in the first five minutes of Dead Day. A few months later, she went Bone anyway. Nothing works and I’m running out of feelings. It’s Fate, it’s Ultimate Fate.’

  Sinatra drew her in. ‘Do you believe that?’

  Demorn’s voice was breaking. ‘Maybe once I didn’t, but now I do. What makes it worse is she isn’t even dead in the real world. She’s almost happy now, Frank. She got a TV gig after they rebooted Super Force for a special. She played a lawyer who kicks ass and her hair looks fabulous. Kate doesn’t care if she’s empty or not. She doesn’t care what the Banker has in his ship. She doesn’t care about who she was or who she is.’

  He shrugged. ‘Ok. And you, do you care?’

  Demorn took a deep breath. ‘It’s like they always say. Live in the now.’

  Sinatra looked at her with cool eyes. He didn’t say anything for a while. ‘So why are you here?’

  Demorn took a long breath. Buildings had replaced the mausoleums. It was another corporate wilderness out there. She turned away. Frank’s room was cozy but it was blurring around the edges. He wouldn’t be here much longer.

  ‘I’m thinking bigger. It’s something Santos and I kept talking about. It’s why I haven’t gone back to Babelzon and the Innocents. It’s why I’ve stayed here, why we kept fighting the War.’

  Her left hand had turned to metal. She tinkled the fingers against the glass.

  She laughed her scary laugh. ‘Do you want to know?’

  Sinatra drained his drink, humming one of her favourite tunes, an old one about the summer wind they sang to in Vegas. ‘Do tell.’

  ‘I think I can save the Universe but I need the Reset Pyramid.’ She popped a mint. ‘Hopefully.’

  Sinatra smiled. ‘You’re dangerous but I love ya.’

  He pointed to the table. A red envelope lay beneath the comic. She opened it. Heavy perfume. The crest was a mixture of unicorns and rose-thorns stencilled in black on red paper. ‘What is this?’

  ‘An invite to their club. Old men have their uses, kid. I might not know everything but I get to meet everybody.’

  She was suspicious. ‘Whose club? The demon gods?’

  He rapped the wall. ‘The people who run this place. Keep it flying in space or whatever it does.’

  ‘That’s Aloquin Industries. Or whoever is footing their bill, I guess.’

  The code on the paper merged into her head and vanished. The red paper was blank. ‘What do they want?’

  ‘Probably just to say hello. Just be polite. It’s a casual thing. There’s a wardrobe, if you don’t want to wear the combat boots.’

  He went to the door. She could feel his guards outside, a nervous cluster of guns and machismo. He looked younger again, the years folding back the closer he got to leaving.

  ‘Will you be there, Boss?’

  ‘Nah, they play too much of that goddamn rock and roll. Something happened in the future to the music. Maybe you can reset that.’

  Demorn giggled. ‘I love you.’

  He winked. ‘I’m loveable. And I brought you a Plus One. Play nice.’

  Sinatra snapped his fingers and left with a smile. Toxis stood there, in the shadows that suddenly appeared around the door. A red cloak covered her. Her dark legs were magnificent and seemed to stretch up forever, glistening black. Her fiery blood eyes burnt. Demorn’s arm burnt and she looked down. The golden bracelet was around her right arm for the first time in what felt like an eon. She could see it upon Toxis as well.

  Even as she looked at her slender, graceful form, Demorn felt a surge of joy. A blast from the past that was fresh and new. Her last memory of the Huntress was an electronic abyss that had swallowed hope and memory. It felt like she had barely thought of her since, the memory swallowed by the nothingness.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Toxis. I thought the Void swallowed you.’

  Toxis peeled the red hood from her head. There wasn’t a mark upon her flawless skin. She looked healthier than Demorn remembered. Impossibly intense. Bursting alive.

  Death is a lie for us, Princess. Do you still hunt?

  Demorn kept looking into those blood eyes. Toxis had fallen into a void and what had come back was a risen burning sun. Her mind-voice was like the wind. Hypnotic. Demorn nodded slowly. She wondered how much was real. It all felt real. Her heart was beating faster. ‘Of course I hunt,’ she said with a grin.

  Toxis was upon her in a blur, kissing her once savagely, biting deep into her neck, just once, hard and sharp as sh
e had done in those missions long ago. Demorn fingers felt across her bruised neck, feeling the indentations.

  ‘Does this mean we can’t die?’ Demorn asked.

  We both have. I have kissed the Skeleton King. And yet here we stand.

  Toxis pressed her lithe fingers into Demorn’s chest, against the ruby heart, where the blade lay. And Demorn knew what she meant. It was the mystery that all the prophecies and magic couldn’t shake. She saw the dark staff on Toxis’s back, solid as ever. They were a team, and the game was still alive, dragging them both back onto the board.

  ‘I’m fucking pumped you’re back,’ Demorn said, and they both laughed with a wild edge. Demorn gripped her face hard and kissed Toxis with everything she had, everything she had thought she had lost.

  8

  * * *

  An invisible bell softly tinkled to wake up Demorn. Time moved strangely in this room. She gently woke Toxis, curled into Demorn’s body in a protective ball. Over the years of their friendship, they hadn’t made love many times and it had never felt like that. This was more tender than fierce. Still sleepy and relaxed, Demorn felt such peace that she didn’t care she felt like she slept with all her friends. It was the way this life was. A combo rush of violence and action punctuated by moments of peace. She was too far down the road to worry about why and what she had chosen. The deeper she’d travelled in Firethorn, into the War, the more Demorn had learnt to rely on her sword and herself. Even Smile felt far away now. There wasn’t anything to go back to, nothing to regret. What had been lost was lost. Kate and Chicago had laid a trail of devastation so deep across Demorn’s heart that she could feel the scars.

  You worry too much. That was a long time ago.

  Toxis brushed her smooth hand across Demorn’s face. We’re friends, I love you Princess, let it be easy.

  The huntress got up to go to the bathroom, her long dark legs and great ass a sight for sore eyes and a welcome relief from all this navel gazing. Demorn threw herself back in bed with a groan and a smile as the shower started. Let it be easy. Bless you, Frank. Thank you for bringing me back some happiness out of a past I lose in the darkness.

  Demorn didn’t go to many parties, not even with Santos, preferring her own company or that of a couple of close friends back in their rooms. The hustle of the party scene always made her feel like she was a shy fifteen-year-old. The Fort was cold and the wardrobe Sinatra had pointed them to was packed with expensive ballroom dresses that made Demorn feel like a high-class escort. She ended up settling on a pair of tight blue jeans and a collared thin red shirt that at least made her feel cool.

  She wandered hand in hand down the corridor with Toxis. The huntress was in a sheer bronzed gold dress and looked like a million dollars. Her hair was a fraction longer than in the old days, and an intricate henna tattoo ran down her arms. It had been a long time since they had seen each other and neither of them felt like bringing up the past. Demorn was foggy on the details anyway. She had spent so long fighting the War with Santos that sometimes everything before felt like a dream. The sting of the arm bracelet was a welcome pain reminding Demorn that not everything behind her was lost.

  The invitation guided them on a winding path through a luxurious, magnificently crumbling hotel. The hallway was only partially lit. Behind thin hotel doors, Demorn could hear voices in many languages, many unknown to her, which was comparatively rare, for she had travelled widely. The pictures on the walls showed variations of monsters and bizarre alien creatures. The air in the corridor was cold. They saw nobody else. They approached a huge oak door emblazoned with red burning sigils that matched the unicorn and thorns invitation precisely.

  Demorn said, ‘There’s universal treaty symbols beneath the logo. Are you carrying?’

  Toxis moved her head imperceptibly. Knives.

  Demorn smiled. She had energy stars strapped to her leg. A gun was out of the question if this was a Treaty function. The wooden door opened. A huge Sumerian blocked the entrance, his leathery reptilian skin stretched over a mass of muscle. Demorn’s eyes widened as she saw three huge soul skulls across his neck, the blue eyes still glowing.

  ‘He’s torn those out of demigods,’ she whispered in admiration. She squeezed Toxis’s hand. ‘Let’s try and be polite.’

  Demorn bowed to the Sumerian who smiled as she introduced herself. He spoke in a perfect Court language as he took her hand in his grasp. She could hear music from inside. It sounded like old school Big Band.

  ‘You are well known to us, Demorn of Asanti, Wandering Princess of the Swords.’

  She chuckled. ‘Am I?’

  His voice rumbled. ‘Certainly. You come to us at great risk to yourself and your city. I am Lucas, known to some as Risen Storm.’

  Snap. She did know him, his name anyway. Tour legend. Disappeared off the scene before her time. But there were Tournaments farther South where she knew Risen Storm had strung together legendary win runs even after he gave up the main events. She’d mixed with a few Sumerians in her time and they were a long-lived species. Lucas was no spring chicken but he looked like he had a way to run.

  She wondered why he had left the tour behind for minding a door in a draughty Dimensional Fort. Maybe the party held an answer or two. Lucas held the door open for them. Toxis rode her like a shadow. Demorn could feel her restrained energy.

  9

  * * *

  The music was more rock than Big Band when you got inside the room. Maybe another act had just ended. A powerful sounding singer worked her way through a hard rocking number below them. The lead singer was a pretty girl barely out of her teens, dressed in a white fur coat and not much else. Demorn could plainly see her tasselled breasts as she moved on the stage, working the crowd. Demorn had to be at least slightly cynical. Music today, she smiled, but the melody was pretty cool, and the girl sold it on her voice as much as her body.

  The ballroom floor was big. Images of blue stars burnt on the floor as a mixture of socialites and celebs partied to the music. It reminded Demorn of a corporate gig. The venue was spilt over two levels, the huge ballroom floor down below and a slightly raised level which collected a somewhat older and quieter crowd. A giant video screen showed sequences of worlds flowing in space and then exploding.

  The Lady Josephine looked back from watching the screen. Her hair was tied back and she was older, but this was unmistakably the same grand woman who had cast her spell over Ceron. She wore a long flowing green dress, golden bracelets flashing on her supple wrists.

  Toxis had peeled off now they were inside. That was to be expected. The huntress would be chasing her own targets.

  ‘My god, Demorn, you’re a long way from home.’

  Demorn’s mouth twisted into half a smile as she inclined her head in a slight bow. ‘Ain’t that the truth, Milady.’

  She pointed to the huge screen with the soulless explosions.

  ‘What’s that?’

  Josephine looked up. ‘It was a planet called K17 that housed a low level civilisation of around thirty million.’

  The world was torn apart on the massive screens. ‘Bang!’ Josephine exclaimed.

  ‘This seems like a weird party choice,’ Demorn said.

  Josephine laughed. She looked around the gaggle of beautiful people on the upper level. Demorn knew some of the faces from cable channels. Entertainment reporters. White polished teeth. Shock jocks. She saw a global newsreader holding court, his tanned face twenty years older than his image on the TV, surrounded by a gaggle of models of every gender and race.

  ‘It’s more a gathering than a party,’ Lady Josephine said, taking Demorn’s hand. ‘The party starts later, when the last lights go out.’

  Josephine’s hand was very cold. She smelt of flowers. Demorn felt a flicker of apprehension. They began to move down toward the ballroom floor. A drink was pressed into her palm. Lady Josephine seemed so beautiful. The music flooded across Demorn. She took a big gulp from the pina colada which tasted perfect. The blue star
s burnt underneath them. She saw shimmering patterns. The floor seemed empty of others as Demorn slowly danced with Josephine in time with the music which faded in and out.

  Josephine held her close. Demorn fought that natural ambivalence in herself, a disdain for this world of flashing lights and pretty girls and boys. In some ways she loved this, only wanted this. She could feel the eyes of others on her.

  ‘Santos banned me from Ceron City. He banned me from the Court,’ Josephine breathed in her ear.

  Demorn smirked, watching the pretty blonde girl sing her little heart out. ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’

  Josephine sighed. ‘A little perhaps.’

  Demorn said, ‘He never told me what happened.’

  Josephine gave her a light kiss on the cheek. ‘What do you think happened?’

  Demorn took another swallow of the drink. A nearby hostess took the glass. ‘I assumed you betrayed him, Milady.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Josephine said sharply.

  On the screen a huge purple and green globe took centre stage. Demorn’s heart stilled. She almost dropped the pina colada. A hostess took the glass. Asanti. Demorn had seen it happen live when she was a child, fleeing her broken world upon the Spire. The screaming of the others. She had replayed the Spire’s recording back on Babelzon. This was so different. She could see the mountains and cities buckling under the weight of a vast force, an engine of devastation. Demorn could not tear her eyes away.

  Lady Josephine held her tight. ‘Do you see, Demorn? Do you see?’

  ‘It’s Asanti dying. How do you have this?’

  The images ended. The song finished, the girl screaming ‘NEON STARS’ on repeat, the white fur coat shed, a sequinned bikini all that was left of the costume. People were applauding. A roadie gave her a robe which she slipped on, laughing.

  Josephine asked, ‘What makes you think the home movies are mine? We’re in their room, their house. I’m just a guest.’