Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1)

by Matthew Herrmann

  I blinked. Was it just me or was there a slight fog rising up from the floor? I blinked again and I didn’t see it anymore. Great, I’m going crazy …

  Orion cleared his throat as he started onward. “Any idea what that bundle might be?”

  “Looks like it could be a weapon,” Garfunkel said with much more excitement than a person ought to use when uttering such a sentiment.

  “You don’t know that,” Simon said. “It could be a … a candle! Or maybe a … a pancake flipper!”

  Garfunkel scoffed, and with a scrunched-up face said, “Do you really think one of the most powerful Others on the planet would be hording a pancake flipper?” His poofy, afro-like hairdo gave him a wild, almost aloof look to him.

  “Yes!” Simon shouted in his endearing musical voice. “Even the evilest of evil love pancakes. Everyone does. Loving pancakes is what tells us we’re alive.”

  Oh Simon. As endearing and book-smart as he was, Simon wasn’t the sharpest mythological being in the pantheon.

  Garfunkel shook his head. “Well, tell us. What do you think it is?”

  “No idea,” I said, although I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like it could be a weapon under all that wrapping. Some ancient ceremonial blade or maybe a hatchet of some kind, judging by the heft of it. I hated to admit it, but I always agreed with Garfunkel in situations like this.

  We continued along in silence for a bit; occasionally Orion would pause to sniff the air even though I didn’t smell anything. After a while, he cleared his voice again, rather uncharacteristically. In a low-key conversational voice, he asked, “How are Simon and Garfunkel doing?”

  I winced at the man’s thoughtfulness. Even though he couldn’t see or hear my familiars, he knew how important they were to me.

  “Isn’t Orion nice?” Simon asked.

  Garfunkel sat on my shoulder with his arms crossed. “He is handy with a crossbow, I guess …”

  “Simon and Garfunkel are just great,” I said.

  “That’s good to hear,” Orion said, then chuckled. He sounded like he was stalling for time as his perceptive eyes scanned the darkness ahead and behind us.

  The lights directly above us did seem a bit dimmer than usual, now that I really thought about it. I glanced at the ground again and saw the mist-like fog seeping upward from the floor. I blinked and it was gone yet again.

  What the hell …? I thought, and then Crap.

  I threw an arm out and grabbed Orion’s jacket sleeve. “You’re lost.”

  He swallowed. “What? I—no we aren’t.”

  Garfunkel grinned madly, chanting, “Orion’s lost … Orion’s lost!”

  Orion ran his fingers over the bricks of the tunnel, his bushy eyebrows knitted like hedges. “Just turned around a bit.” I’d never seen Orion’s face so worked up before. This was bad.

  “Hey Star Boy,” Garfunkel piped up. “I think I saw a gas station a ways back you can ask for directions!” He laughed, clutching at his gut before straightening up. “Yeah we’re screwed.”

  We came to a stop and I started to wave my hands so that the lights wouldn’t shut off again. Part of me wanted to give Orion some more shit but that wouldn’t help right now. You were supposed to be able to lean on Partners in times of crisis, not want to kill them. (At least, that’s what the speaker said at that one lecture Orion dragged me to.)

  “Would it help if we retraced our steps?” I asked in as calm a voice as I could manage.

  Orion looked at me as if he didn’t even recognize me. “Retrace our steps?” He paused and glanced forward and backward. “Theo, I … I don’t even remember which way leads back to the storeroom.”

  My gut sank, but not because Orion was as hopelessly lost as me.

  But, that was part of it. I’d seen that look of incognition before, on my mother. When her condition really started going downhill.

  Mama …

  And seeing that same look in Orion now made me feel like doubling over and puking.

  I clutched at my chest and gritted my teeth. Threw my shoulder blades against the brick wall at my back. I blinked and the fog was back, its puffy tendrils twisting around my ankles. Across from me, a doorway materialized in the wall. I watched as it shifted toward the side a few feet before sealing back over with bricks.

  What was this? Some kind of haunted labyrinth?

  “Uh guys, I think I might be going crazy … Is this tunnel turning into the Mist by Stephen King?”

  “Didn’t read it—didn’t watch it!” Simon said.

  Garfunkel whistled. “You’re not going crazy.”

  Beside me, I don’t even think Orion heard me.

  “That’s good,” I said. “At least I’m not going crazy. Orion, I thought you had these tunnels mapped out to a T.”

  “I did,” he said, awareness returning to his eyes. “But …”

  Ugh. I hate ‘buts.’ “Spill it,” I said.

  Orion scratched behind his head. “Seems these cursed tunnels got the best of me.”

  “I’m gonna need more than that …”

  Orion shook his head, running his hands through his hair before explaining exactly what cursed means.

  “What Happens in Ancient Greece, Stays in Ancient Greece”

  Turns out that Typhon cursed these subway tunnels to stop people like little ol’ me from escaping with his goods.

  Smart cat … or rather, demi-god.

  See, the subway line we now found ourselves in didn’t always use to be abandoned. It was alive and bustling with humans up until the early 2000s. And then, at the onset of the GoneGod World era, humans simply forgot it existed.

  And when I say forgot, what I really mean is there was definitely some mad warding going on down here. An entire subway line and its adjoining utility tunnels can’t just exist one moment and not the next.

  Orion’s guess? Typhon had acquired some crazy-powerful cursed artifacts that enabled him to pull a major glam like Platform 9 ¾, King’s Cross Station in Harry Potter.

  If not for Simon and Garfunkel on my shoulders, I probably wouldn’t be able to see the subway, either.

  I took a deep breath. “Is this why you were so nervous back at my apartment when you were studying the blueprints? Why you changed the topic that one time when I asked if you were ready?” Orion didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Orion shuffled his feet; it was quite awkward to watch. “I thought I could navigate them. That my nature would counter the curse.”

  I crossed my arms. “And?”

  “This job was obviously important to you. I thought it was only fair I pull my weight.”

  “Pull your weight? From the way you talk, this is some serious mojo. I wouldn’t ask you to risk your life for that? I don’t care how bad I need the money. I’d find another way.”

  When Orion didn’t say anything, I frowned. “Wait. No, there’s more to this. You were the one who wanted us to do this job in the first place. You lined it up. You had to have an idea of what it was beforehand.” Crap … I thought back to Orion’s joy when he’d secured our appointment with our mysterious new employer.

  I thrust a finger at Orion’s chest. “I know why I wanted this job. Why did you?”

  “Now Theo—”

  “Don’t lie to me. This whole gig is fishy. But what should have set off the alarms in my head was when you didn’t push back after that messed up nightmare book test at the mansion. Sure, you questioned my decision to accept the job but then you were all in. So tell me why.”

  Orion remained silent.

  “You and Typhon got some beef I don’t know about? Cause uh … one, that would’ve been nice to know ahead of time. And two, you lied—”

  “No,” Orion interrupted me. “Well, yes. It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated?” I threw my hands up in the air. “Trying to meditate with two invisible angels bickering on your shoulders, that’s complicated. Being completely open with your partner before
a mission …”

  Orion swallowed. “We’re allowed to keep some secrets. Like your mystery expenses.”

  “Hey,” I said. “That’s personal. And I’d tell you if you asked.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need to know. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

  “Then tell me what this job is really about. It’s not this two-pound weight strapped to my leg.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you,” Orion said.

  And that’s when the lights at the far end of the darkened hallway started to come on, one by one. And they were heading our way.

  Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.

  The sound of cloven hooves on concrete.

  “HAH. Look at the confused mice who’ve stumbled into MY LABYRINTH.”

  I shuddered at the booming quality to the voice as a looming minotaur approached. If there was one word to describe him, it would be muscly. And hairy. Having the legs and arms and head of a steroid-enhanced bull, there was lots of hair. Also, I guess you could say he was curvy—at least the two massive horns protruding from his bull head were. The ceiling was so low, he had to duck as he trudged toward us, his neck bulging with cords of muscle.

  The Other’s darkly tanned chest and hairy arms were covered by a steel chest plate and arm guards. He wore a gladiator style helmet with slots for his horns, and the hair covering his body, in general looked well-groomed and glossy. How come even minotaurs had better hair than me!

  I turned to Orion. “Guess you did smell a bull.”

  As far as I was concerned, Orion and I had two options: Turn and run … and be flattened by a charging bull-man. Or stand and fight.

  I stepped forward so that I was shoulder to shoulder with Orion to better face our foe.

  “Minotaur,” Orion said, and the minotaur lifted his head, his curving horns striking the low ceiling. Dust and bits of concrete spilled down over his shoulders.

  I elbowed Orion in the arm. “Nice job pissing him off. Maybe now he won’t impale us with that halberd strapped to his back. And way to use some manners. You don’t pass a nymph in a grocery store and address her with, ‘Hello, Nymph.’ ”

  “Theo,” Orion said, pointing to the minotaur pacing menacingly back and forth. “That is the original Minotaur. The one from the myths.”

  “ORION,” the Minotaur said. “Of all the labyrinths in all the world, you happen to wander into mine … AGAIN!”

  I turned to Orion. “Wait, you two know each other?”

  Orion bit his lip. “It was a long time ago.”

  “I know all the myths concerning you,” I said with arms akimbo, “and you definitely never crossed paths with the Minotaur. Simon, do you remember—”

  “It didn’t make it into the myths.”

  I frowned and Orion nodded to the Minotaur who nodded as well. Neither one of them wanted to meet my eyes.

  “Well … what happened? Tell me.”

  “Nothing to tell—” Orion said as the Minotaur roared, “None of your BUSINESS!”

  “OK, now I know something happened. Why didn’t it make it into the myths?”

  Orion gave me a sober look. “It was …”

  “INCONSEQUENTIAL.”

  “… too embarrassing,” Orion finished. “For both of us.”

  “Now I have to know.”

  “You really don’t,” Orion said, turning back to the Minotaur. “The fog is a nice addition. I’m impressed. You’ve learned some tricks over the years.”

  “I’m glad you APPROVE, ORION. It is a little something I call DEMENTIA MIST.”

  I gritted my teeth, flashbacks of a playground from my youth smacking the gray matter inside my skull around like a bully. Orion placed a hand on my shoulder and I pulled myself together.

  “I’m impressed,” Orion said, an easy smile on his face. “And I like the automatic lights …”

  “I know your cunning ways, ORION! They will not work on me this time.”

  Orion sighed. “What say we let bygones be bygones? Can you please just let us pass?”

  “NAY. These halls are off limits to all but MASTER TYPHON. You know the RULES …”

  “They’re made to be broken?” I offered.

  The Minotaur drew his halberd from his back.

  “But we go way back,” Orion said, his manly charm doing little to aid him.

  “All the more reason to IMPALE you. Now HOLD STILL …”

  A sudden loud and echoey roar exploded through the tunnel, blowing back my plain hair and whipping at the dress clinging to my skin. Garfunkel managed to hold onto his shoulder pad with his fingernails filed into tiny claws (should I be concerned about that? I feel like I should be concerned), but poor Simon was blown clear off my shoulder, disappearing into the darkness like some space astronaut with a severed tether to the space station.

  “Simon!” I said, sweat breaking out under my armpits.

  SNAP!

  “Ouch! Wahhhhh!”

  I remembered my familiars’ 20-foot leash, and sighed with relief when Simon’s body came hurtling right back at me. I raised my hands and caught him against my bosom like a baseball to a catcher’s mitt.

  “I want to go home!” Simon wailed.

  I turned back to the Minotaur, who was laughing.

  “Uh, what was that?” I asked.

  The Minotaur grinned. “Have you FORGOTTEN? There’s an ARENA down here.”

  Another massive roar thundered through the tunnel, knocking me back a step and nearly toppling me. Beside me, the flaps of Orion’s leather jacket cracked against his sides like whips.

  I’d recognize that roar anywhere from the National Geographic wildlife shows Garfunkel liked to watch. It was a lion’s roar.

  I bit my lip. “I guess you were right about the oversized cat too.”

  The Minotaur stomped his hoof. “Oversized CAT? HAH!”

  Meeting the Minotaur’s cue ball-sized eyes, I said, “I took a peek at tonight’s contestants, and there was no lion.”

  The Minotaur stared at me for a time and then his face darkened. “Oh no. HE HAS ESCAPED AGAIN.”

  I threw up my hands. “Whoa whoa whoa. What are you talking about?”

  The Minotaur snorted with a shake of his head, gripping his halberd with both hands. “HE SMELLS YOUR FLESH.”

  “Huh?” I glanced over at Orion. He already had his crossbow in his hands and his face was pale.

  Then I turned back to face the Minotaur. Behind him, the motion-sensor-activated lights were starting to kick on again and they were approaching dangerously fast.

  “Uh Theo,” Simon said. “Now’s the time when you run!”

  Orion and I ran.

  The sound of steel on brick echoed at our heels. That, and a bunch of clip, clop, clip, clops. Oh, and another one of those massive lion roars.

  GoneGodDamn, how big is that thing?

  “Simon, do you know what that thing is?” I huffed as we ran.

  Simon and Garfunkel were clutching their respective shoulder pad, flashing each other concerned looks as if communicating in some silent language only they knew. Normally their communication resembled frantic shouting and mad grappling.

  “Well say something, you two!”

  From behind me came the sound of a blade whacking a tough hide and then the clamping down of teeth upon metal.

  “OW! DOWN, BEAST. DOWN—”

  A meaty thwap sounded down the tunnel from what I guessed was the Minotaur’s body striking the brick wall from a mighty swipe of the lion’s paw.

  “Crap! Minotaur down!” I turned to Orion. “What good is running going to get us if we’re lost?”

  Orion jerked his head down in a knowing nod as he continued to run. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of here.”

  I’d worked enough jobs with Orion to know what he was about to do, and I tried to stop him—but I was too late. He stopped abruptly, and crouching to all fours, threw back his head, sniffed the air and pawed the concrete floor with his callused fingers.
r />   I tensed as a subtle streak of gray wound its way through his thick, luscious, beautiful hair.

  “Damnit, Orion, I didn’t mean for you to burn time. You already spent so much back at Central Park.”

  Then again, no magic meant we’d be lion food, so Orion trading a few days to get us out of here seemed like a fair exchange.

  Orion’s face lit up as he picked himself up. “Ah, I’ve finally located the way out. I’ll lead on.”

  We ran for what seemed like a very long time. And we ran fast, too. Cue the lion nipping figuratively (and soon to be literally) at our heels.

  Our lives were in Orion’s hands—er legs, and judging from his confident strides and no hesitation when we came to forks in the tunnels, he really did know where he was going. I was just worried about the lion catching up to us before we got there.

  Orion glanced over at me during one of his confident strides. Balanced over one forearm was his compact crossbow. “Listen, Theo. In case I don’t get the chance to say this …”

  We rounded a corner, and up ahead was a—

  “Door!” I said.

  It looked like it was made of reinforced iron. A glance behind me revealed the overhead lights growing closer and closer. We might make it yet as long as the door wasn’t locked …

  Which it was.

  Orion spun and raised his crossbow as I crouched in front of the door, angling my left shoulder up against it.

  I twisted my head to watch the flashing blur of the approaching lion in the brightening tunnel. “G, do your thing.”

  Garfunkel pulled back his sleeve and shoved his arm into the keyhole almost up to his armpit while on my other shoulder, Simon screamed like he was being murdered.

  “Simon, not helping.” I turned back to the door, ready to push it open as soon as it was unlocked.

  Behind me, Orion let loose a crossbow bolt, but it clattered to the wall or floor, deflected off the lion’s hide. The lion roared not out of pain but out of anger as it rushed ever onward. It sounded like it was right on us.