by Tim Marquitz
Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
www.damnationbooks.com
Armageddon Bound
Demon Squad Series
by Tim Marquitz
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-001-9
Print: ISBN: 978-1-61572-000-2
Cover art by: Jessica Lucero
Edited by: Lisa Jackson
Copyright 2009 Tim Marquitz
Printed in the United States of America Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced , scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Armageddon
Bound
By
Tim Marquitz
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife, Tiffanie and my little bugbear, Lorelei. You both inspire me to be so much more than I could ever have imagined. To my mother, who always had faith I’d succeed. I’m still working on it, mom. To my friends and family who’ve always been there for me; I love you all. To Whitneye, for everything. To Cookie Corrigan for supporting me and giving me a place to hide. To Josie, Jodale, and all my other early readers, thank you for wading through my slop. To the ladies of my writing group, Kim and Michele, thanks for keeping me on track. To Ben and Isaac for all the support and encouragement. To Mike, Art, Michelle, Liz, Jackie, and Adam for making two years of misery fun. Esydra!
Acknowledgements:
To Jessy Lucero for the amazing art. Page 1
The Enemy of My Enemy
There was a time when being related to Lucifer was enough to keep the proverbial wolves from the door. Judging by the snarling bastard who stood over me, his meaty fist dotted with my blood, those days were gone.
“Well, good morning to you too,” I mumbled, looking up through watering eyes. My nose throbbed something awful.
The big bruiser—Marcus D’anatello—just smiled. While a pretty big guy myself, certainly not lacking in the muscle department, I had nothing on Marcus. Built like a silverback gorilla on steroids, he hovered over me enjoying the moment. His Armanisuited bulk blocked out what little light filtered between the buildings. Fortunately for me, his bald head and pearly white teeth provided enough to see by. I didn’t like what I saw.
He gestured for me to get up, taking a short step back to give me room. I did so, hesitantly, expecting to be hit again. He surprised me.
Marcus and I had a history. It wasn’t so long ago I took a 2x4 to that gleaming dome of his. I dented it up pretty damn good. Turns out, he’s not the most forgiving of fellows.
Page 2
“What can I do for you, Marcus?” I asked, not really expecting an answer that didn’t involve his fists.
“It’s not what you can do for him, Mr. Trigg, but what you can do for Baalth,” a reserved, measured voice answered from behind Marcus.
I peered around D’anatello’s hulking shoulder to see an older man striding toward us. My stomach tightened into a hard knot as I recognized him; Alexander Poe, Baalth’s psychic enforcer. Dressed conservatively in an understated gray suit, a look of solemn determination etched into his face. I knew then it was business, not personal. Something was going down.
“Where’s the bitch?” Marcus asked, the smile gone, his eyes feral.
As a modern man, relatively speaking, I’ve known many women who would have stood up and declared themselves the bitch he was looking for. However, I knew the instant he asked he could only be looking for one woman; Scarlett. Only she would be so willfully spiteful as to rattle the cage of a demon as powerful as Baalth.
“Why, you looking to get lucky?” It wasn’t like I felt the need to protect Scarlett, she could take care of herself—being an angel tended to help in that department—it just went against my nature to give in to bullies.
The blur of Marcus’s fist smashed into my Page 3
forehead before I even saw it. There was a meaty thunk, which I heard rather than felt, as my head collided with the brick wall. A whirl of stars filled my vision as the pain caught up to me. I slid to the ground and dropped unceremoniously onto my ass. Immediately, I felt the knot growing in the center of my forehead, easily the size of a golf ball already. I imagined I looked like a retarded unicorn.
“Once more, where’s the bitch?”
I looked up at Marcus, or at least tried to; my eyes wouldn’t uncross. I rubbed them to quell their revolt and through the blur, I saw the bruiser pull his fist back again.
“All right, all right.” I chose the better part of valor. I may not like bullies, but I’m no martyr. You gotta choose your battles. This wasn’t one I was willing to take on. Besides, it’s not like I knew anything. “I don’t know where she is.”
It wasn’t like Scarlett and I were friends. Cousins? Yes, but friends was a stretch. In my book, she wasn’t a whole hell of a lot better than the big ape in front of me, but she served her purpose. Had I known where she was, I probably would have given her up. Not liking my answer, Marcus reared back to hit me again. Normally, I would have just shot him and saved us both the grief; me from having to take a beating and him from having to live with all that anger rattling around inside. I’d have been doing him a favor, Page 4
but I promised Abraham I’d play nice with Baalth. My shooting his goon would violate the old guy’s trust no matter how good it would feel. So, I tucked my chin and waited for the hammer to fall. Abraham would be so proud. Yay me.
“Leave him be,” Poe interrupted. “He’s telling the truth.”
As a mentalist whose power few humans could match, Poe knew I wasn’t lying. Though he wasn’t able to read my mind, my devilish genetics distorting his readings, he could still pull off a surface scan, which told him all he needed to know. It worked better than any lie detector I’d ever seen.
Marcus growled like a dog who didn’t want to relinquish a bone. I could almost see the rusty wheels in his head spinning as he mulled over his options. None of them were good for me.
Poe’s icy eyes narrowed. “We’re done here, Mr. D’anatello.” He laid a narrow hand on Marcus’s shaking arm when the big man didn’t respond. “Now is not the time for your personal vendetta.” There was a finality in his voice, which was hard to ignore. Marcus huffed and lowered his fist with reluctance. He glared at me, straightening his tie unconsciously. It looked more like he was strangling it.
“You’ll be seeing me again, Trigg.”
“Always a pleasure.” I tried to give him a welcoming smile, but judging from the look on his face Page 5
I missed my mark. I probably should have kept my tongue in my mouth.
He backed up about ten feet, his cold eyes on me the whole time, then turned and stormed out of the alley. Poe cast one last piercing glance in my direction before he strolled off after Marcus. Once they were gone, I pulled myself to my feet, grunting. My head still throbbed on both sides. I ran my hand across the back of my shaved scalp and felt a small cut dribbling with blood, but nothing major. I touched the knot on my forehead and hissed. That was a good one. The bastard hit like a freight train. The things I do for people.
“You better be happy, Abraham,” I shouted, my voice echoing down the alley.
“I’m sure he is, Frank.”
I jumped when I heard the voice, and whirled about dr
awing my chromed .45 from the small of my back. I lowered it as soon as I saw the golden mane and grinning face of the angel it framed. “Goddamn it, Scarlett! Don’t do that.”
“Wow, a gun. That would have come in handy a minute ago.” She smirked, clearly having witnessed Marcus’s assault. The one I’d taken on her behalf. I could feel my anger welling up as I stared at her. She leaned casually against the wall, her lithe figure defined by the skin-tight leather outfit she wore. Cousin or not, I couldn’t help but follow the swollen Page 6
trail of her V-neck blouse, her breasts a sight to behold. I have to give it to God, He knew how to make ‘em. How could I be mad at those?
I slipped my gun back into my waistband and pulled my shirt out to cover it. It helped to cover everything else, as well. What can I say? I’m easily aroused.
“Oh, and don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. He doesn’t like it,” she warned, her palm absentmindedly fondling the hilt of her sword, Everto Trucido, loosely translated as Demon Slayer. I looked away from the mesmerizing sight of her hand sliding up and down the pommel, trying to keep my thoughts in check. Having seen the blade in action, I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. It lived up to its name. I couldn’t, however, pass up an opportunity to give her grief. “What’s He gonna do, strike me down?” I raised my arms and looked up to the heavens, chuckling. Her eyes narrowed and the smile dropped from her face. I stifled my laughter and lowered my arms, not wanting to upset her more than I already had. The last thing I needed was to add a pissed off angel to my list of enemies. I might not get along with her all that well, but barring what I’d do if I found her gagged and tied to a bed, I sure didn’t want to go to war with her. I think the worst part was she knew I could say whatever I wanted and God wouldn’t do anything. He wasn’t around to do anything.
Page 7
You see, about fifty years ago, the Almighty and Lucifer had a sit down. Weary of the battle for the hearts and souls of humanity, they decided they’d had enough. They wanted an end to the war. Rather than raze existence and start fresh, they decided humanity had, for the most part, come into its own and had too much history and character to simply be wiped away. I guess they felt pity for the chess board pieces they battled over for so long. So instead, they chose to abandon it, letting it evolve as it would. An instant after they made their decision, they disappeared into the void, leaving the whole of creation behind. The consequences of which were devastating. Connected to God in a way no other creature could claim, the angels were hit the hardest. It was as if the most important part of them had been ripped away, a festering black abyss left rotting in its place. Many went insane. As for the rest, well, let’s just say there are varying degrees of insanity.
I could see the strain in Scarlett’s eyes, their perfect green suffering from the loss of her Lord; herself. Her hand shook as it clutched the pommel of her sword, her knuckles white. I could see the tenseness in her shoulders, the quivering of her lip. Under the circumstances, I did what any gentleman would do for a woman whose whole world, whose life, whose very existence was crumbling down around her. I changed the subject.
Page 8
“So, what’d you do to piss off Baalth?”
She glowered at me, putting her hands on her hips. I could tell she wasn’t sad anymore. The snarl on her face kind of gave that away. Mission accomplished.
“I meted out some divine retribution,” she replied, her voice tinged with frost.
“Can you be more specific?”
She huffed. “I intercepted a shipment of guns last night.”
I shook my head. “So, are we talking about the five-alarm fire at the railyard that wiped out at least twenty warehouses as well as destroyed two cargo trains and caused a handful of deaths?”
She shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Let them deliver the guns so Baalth’s men can use them to kill innocent people?”
“I didn’t say all that.” Subtlety was a foreign concept to Scarlett. “I just don’t think it makes a lot of sense for you to go burning down the city. You’re drawing attention to yourself and that’s not good.”
“Why not?” She puffed her ample chest out.
“The humans need to know.”
I tore my eyes from her cleavage and gathered my thoughts, yanking them from out of the gutter. Puppies and kittens, puppies and kittens. “What do they need to know? That God and the Devil have gone on permanent vacation? That they’ve left humanity to the mercy of a bunch of crazed angels and bloodthirsty Page 9
demons who want nothing more than to bring about Armageddon?”
“Yes, exactly.”
I rubbed my temples. “We’ve been over this a thousand times, Scarlett. If the humans knew what was really going on there’d be wholesale panic, chaos. They’d start killing each other in the streets, destroying everything they could get their hands on. You’d be helping the
pro-Armageddon forces bring about the end. Is that what you really want?”
“Would it be so bad?” I could see the weariness, the loneliness wearing on her, the emptiness welling up to moisten her eyes.
“You’re starting to sound like Gabriel.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “I’m not suggesting we help bring it about like he wants, but maybe oblivion isn’t such a bad alternative.”
“How can nothingness be cruel?” I quoted the immortal words of Bayou poet, Dax Riggs. She gave me a gentle smile. It made my crotch tingle.
“The truth is I’m not ready to not exist yet.” I didn’t think she was either. “Besides, it’s not our place to make these kinds of decisions. It’s way above my pay grade, for sure. God should be the one to say whether or not to pull the plug on existence. He willed this mess into existence so it’s His job to clean it up.”
Page 10
She threw her arms up. “He’s not around to make that decision.”
I played my ace. “Don’t you think He’d have wiped it all out before He left if that was what was in His heart?”
I danced on the inside when I saw her resistance crumble.
“I guess you’re right.” She had a hard time admitting that, her voice slow to mouth the words. I resisted the urge to rub it in. “Yeah, so how about we try to minimize the collateral damage and only burn down five warehouses next time, huh?” I tried to look compassionate. She probably just thought I had gas. “Oh, and maybe lay off Baalth a little bit too. I don’t need his goons pounding my head in every time you decide to go vigilante.”
“Get over it.” She poked my forehead, the knot already gone. “It’s not like they can hurt you.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate. I could be hurt just like anyone else. I still felt pain. I could bleed, break a limb, have my head cracked open, jaw busted; I just healed fast. That, and I can’t be killed by any weapon forged by human hands. I guessed that was what she was talking about. She was still wrong though.
“I just don’t appreciate it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m off to do some good for the world. Are you on your way to visit the Super Friends at the Halls of Justice?”
“The fact you know who the Super Friends are Page 11
frightens me.” I shook my head. “And it’s called work. You should try it sometime.”
Scarlett laughed. “To each their own.” She spun around and gave me a lazy wave as she strutted down the alley.
I can’t say I was sad to see her leave, but I sure liked watching her go, or however that song went. Leather does a body good.
After she was gone, I gave myself a minute to get everything composed, then went off in search of some hot coffee. If my early morning encounters were any indication as to how the rest of my day would go, I was gonna need some caffeine.
Page 12
DRAC
Certain I wasn’t followed, I slipped into the alley behind the abandoned Plaza Theater, a cup of steaming, frothy goodness clutched in my mitts. I stayed close to the building to avoid being seen by anyone in
the nearby low-rent apartments that faced the alley and made my way to the rear stage door. Once there, I grabbed the rusted handle and felt the familiar tingle of sensory wards, followed by the quiet click of the door unlocking. After another quick glance about, I whipped the door open and went inside. The instant it closed behind me I felt a gentle wave of mystical energy prickle the hair on my arms as the portal hummed to life. A gentle tickle danced along the nape of my neck as the humming intensified. A second later, the teleportation spell took hold, whisking me away. Less than a heartbeat later, I arrived in the receiving room at DRAC headquarters. DRAC, or Demonic Resistance and
Containment, was an organization that sprung up in response to the growing demonic threat after God’s disappearance. Though it was later realized the proArmageddon forces weren’t limited to demons, the name stuck. Founded by Abraham Solano, a psychic savant whose visions foretold of God’s disappearance, the group had since gathered to their cause the most Page 13
powerful wizards, psychics, and mystics the human race had to offer. Abraham would soon learn how big a mistake that was.
Only eighteen at the time of DRAC’s formation, Abraham had little practical leadership experience. Without thought to the consequences, he set about gathering the world’s magic and rallying its practitioners. For twenty years, he scoured the planet amassing the largest collection of magical resources and manpower ever compiled, in a single location. He would live to regret the last.
Not fully realizing the scope of what he’d envisioned, Abraham was caught off guard when the pro-Armageddon forces took note of DRAC’s existence. Drawn to the shining beacon of power, which was the organization’s mystical cache, demons raided the compound, laying waste to it. Few survived the attack. Most of the knowledge and artifacts gathered were stolen or destroyed. The organization shattered.
Wounded and ridden with guilt, Abraham would take another ten years to recover and muster the courage to reform DRAC. Nearing his seventies, he had learned the lesson of his past failure. The location I appeared at, just one of many secret facilities, was a testament to that.
Accessible only by teleportation, the receiving room was designed to contain intruders, Page 14
