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

by Matthew Herrmann

  Saliva dripped from Typhon’s monstrous heads and I shifted my grip again on my weapon. “Uh, guys,” I said to my familiars. “I know you’re older than the universe and all, and that each morph is one step away from the apocalypse or whatever … but you wouldn’t happen to mind morphing into Libra right now, would ya?”

  Garfunkel bit his lip. “While I’d say it’s worth the risk, it’s got to be a team effort. I can’t do it without my better half’s cooperation …”

  I glanced to my right at Simon passed out on my shoulder, a safety harness connecting him to an anchor point within his pad.

  I glanced back up at Typhon, finally understanding the shtick about a monster with a hundred heads. Don wasn’t lying. Hell, no wonder Zeus and his godly company fled Mount Olympus when Typhon and his horde came for them in the night …

  The eyes of one of Typhon’s dragon heads flashed gold.

  “That’s not good!” Garfunkel said as the dragon head cocked back on its pliable giraffe neck, preparing to snap down at me.

  I was about to get slaughtered.

  “Aurora Boreanaz”

  I blinked one last time before Typhon destroyed me and when I opened my eyes again, I was … in Alaska?

  Judging by the spectacular night sky and the light show far above my head, I was somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere surrounded by evergreen trees and standing amid an expanse of pristine fresh-fallen snow. It was beautiful. It was …

  “Oh crap am I dead again?” I asked aloud.

  The Shades of sprites flitted between the dark toothpick trunks of trees while nymphs skitted playfully about the ice floe. An angel-winged whale of an Other drifted by overhead, momentarily blocking out the lightshow.

  The InBetween.

  Either Typhon had in fact chomped off my head, or somehow the Jersey Devil AKA Edward Cullen had yanked my soul back to his realm, thereby momentarily freezing time back on earth.

  “Yo, Edward,” I called out, glancing about but I didn’t see him lurking nearby, only the Shades of Others blissfully going about their business.

  I shouldn’t say “blissfully.”

  Out on the ice floe, a nymph tripped and fell on her perfect face. In the forest, sprites kept running into trees. Beside me, a Bandersnatch endlessly chased its tail.

  What struck me the hardest was the sight of a baba yaga peering confusedly out from the window of her chicken-legged hut. That thousand-yard stare reminded me so much of my mother on her worst days.

  I suppressed a tear and glanced back up at the shifting colorful light display up above the treetops. I’d always wanted to see it, to lose myself in the swaying and shifting lights. Here in this place, I just couldn’t focus—even knowing that while I existed here, no harm could come to my body or anyone else on earth. Being here meant a temporary reprieve of all suffering on earth …

  “There you are.”

  I turned. Standing at a distance with broad shoulders, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and short, gelled-up hair was Angel, the vampire with a soul from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  I raised a hand and tried to make sense of the matter. “Umm, the Jersey Devil, I presume?”

  Angel nodded, his hands folded into his pockets as he stepped forward into the glow of the Northern Lights. “This is better than the last face I wore for you?” His smooth handsome face seemed almost apologetic, downturned, as if he was still repenting for his prior sins.

  “I, uh … yeah. It’s better.” I laughed at the absurdity of it all. Me, standing under the aurora borealis, confronting a real-life “devil” currently taking the form of a dreamy, fictitious TV vampire. “Although, Angel’s not really my type—”

  Angel’s brows furrowed. “But you’re attracted to this brooding character. I’ve read it in your soul.”

  I sighed. “OK, first off, you ‘read’ my soul? Privacy!”

  He winced, flashing that apologetic look again.

  “Secondly, yeah I’m attracted to him. It doesn’t mean he’s my dream crush. Much closer than Edward Cullen though.”

  Angel shook his head and gestured at his current form. “I don’t get it. This persona is nearly identical to your partner Orion. The tall, brooding archetypal hero repenting for his past.”

  I blushed. I guess I’d never really thought about it that way. Orion was basically Angel but instead of a past filled with killing humans, his was filled with killing Others for sport and then boasting about it.

  Wait, did that make me Cordelia? No, I was much less vain than her. Right …?

  I held up both hands. “OK. Whatever. Maybe you’re right. But I don’t need two Angels in my life right now. Besides, the two familiars on my shoulders are kinda like tiny invisible angels …” I paused. “That was a joke.”

  Angel closed his lips and dropped his gaze to the ground off to the side. Orion, at least, wasn’t usually this broody. In fact, Orion oftentimes cheered me up when I was feeling that way. He always seemed to know the right words or gesture to snap me out of my slump. Like that stupid overexaggerated wink of his.

  “Look,” I said. “Can we please stop discussing my TV crushes and get to Why am I here? Did Typhon kill me?”

  With his hands still in his pockets, Angel lifted his serious eyes to mine. “You’re not dead. Remember, when you’re here, time back in the earthly plane freezes. Think of it as pausing Netflix to take a snack break.”

  “So … when I snap back to reality, then I’m going to be dead?”

  Angel’s furrowed eyes pierced right through me. “Not if you dodge left.”

  “Dodge left?” I laughed. “Is that why you brought me here?”

  He strode toward me silently, impressive for a man his size. Of course, he was a fictional vampire …

  “No,” he said. “Well, partly. Even with the lava axe destined to kill him, you don’t stand a chance against Typhon—”

  “Gee thanks, Mr. Bright Side.”

  “—not on your own,” he finished, unperturbed by my interruption.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “Simon’s in Lala Land so Garfunkel can’t form into Libra. My partner Orion is evil and even if I managed to wing Typhon—and dodge his dragon heads—he brought an entire crew to back him up. What do I have?”

  Angel sized me up in that strong, stoic way he’s good at. “For one, you have that tattoo on your arm. After you dodge left, you blind your enemy with a spotlight blast.”

  “But I can’t,” I said.

  “But I can’t,” he mimed back, something Garfunkel might say.

  “That was … rude,” I said.

  “Toughen up, Theo,” Angel said, glancing out at the ice floe and the light show overhead. “I’m not going to coddle you. You’re going up against Typhon, the hundred headed monster who’s been killing Others for sport, for financial gain.” He swept an arm out behind him at the flopping and twitching Shades. “Look around. See the condition they are in? He did this to them.”

  Perched upon a boulder, a griffin kept tucking and readjusting its beak under its transparent wings.

  “And them,” he said, indicating the school of long slender fish riding a breeze. “Beautiful creatures, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I agreed. The fish reminded me of the peaceful carp in the fountain at my favorite Chinese takeout place. Also, their shiny scales reflected the gently swaying colors of the northern lights.

  I’d never seen them before, either in person or in myths. They seemed wise and mature, if fish could be described as such. “What are they called?”

  Angel shook his head. “They have no name. They are the Sultan’s Fish, as documented in the Arabian folk tales of One Thousand and One Nights. And before you ask where on earth they live … they don’t.”

  I didn’t much like the sternness in his voice. “What?” I asked.

  Angel swept a hand over the school of shimmering carp. “This is all that’s left of them. They’re extinct.”

  “Extinct? Why?”

  He sha
rply met my gaze. “Why? Because Typhon exterminated them, that’s why. Fed them to his champions for winning Arena matches.”

  I let out a breath of air. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I understand the importance of your mission of creating a place for all Others when they die and all that, but I’m doing my best. I’m just one girl, I don’t have superpowers and I’m going up against one of the meanest and most badass Others of all time. What is it you expect from me?”

  Angel’s eyes riveted onto mine. He pointed accusatorially at the magic fish. “Those aren’t the only Others who’ve already gone extinct—just the only ones that made it to this place due to their proximity to the pendant Typhon carries.”

  I sighed, feeling very much like a pile of crap. “I get it. You feel like you’re the Others’ protector or savior or whatever but I … why don’t you just save them yourself? Put your money where your mouth is and take the fight to Typhon in person?”

  Angel growled; muscles tensed and bunched across his face and suddenly I was staring at his vampiric form. In just a few short strides he was upon me, staring down at me. Peeling back his red lips, a curt lion’s roar escaped his mouth—even more imposing in person than on TV.

  “What are you going to do?” I said. “Bite me? Snap my neck?”

  He grasped me by the shoulders and peered at me with a curious darkness as if in self-debate.

  Oh shit, I thought, reminding myself that in the InBetween he really could kill me. Any of these Shades could if antagonized …

  Already the nearest Shades turned tail and flitted toward Angel and me, their eyes shining darkly, redly.

  Anger. I could feel their anger. Their fear. Their confusion.

  And they were converging right on me like the scimitar spokes of a wheel.

  Angel watched them come for me, studied me a moment longer before jerking his head in a tight circle with a stifled growl, and his face reverted back to human form. The Others darting toward me instantly eased back into their prior confused forms and resumed milling about unawares.

  Whew.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I am passionate about the role I have assumed. And I was channeling this Angel character’s identity and drive … I find, I like slipping into this persona.” He gave that embarrassed eye squint of his and continued. “I’ve been watching you for quite a while now. I thought you showed promise. Maybe I was, wrong.”

  “Maybe you’re asking too much,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “Maybe not. I guess we’re about to find out.” He raised a hand and made to snap his fingers.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I threw my hands up. “That’s it? That’s your pep talk? You’re just going to throw me into the proverbial arena?”

  “What else can I do? I told you to dodge left. Blind with your tattoo—”

  “But without Simon, I don’t know how to use my tattoo!”

  Angel tapped his temple. “You can use it. You just have to believe. It’s your tattoo—not Simon’s.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I believe I’ve stressed the importance of your mission, what’s at stake. Do you want a place for your familiars to go to when they eventually die? Do you want a place for all Others to go, when they die? Theo, life isn’t all about you and those directly connected to you. Open your eyes. It’s all connected. Everything.”

  He raised his hand again, pressed his fingertips together.

  “But—”

  “What more can I say?”

  “Well—”

  Angel sighed with an exasperated roll of his neck. “Look, if you don’t go now, your soul will be trapped here. I don’t want you to be trapped here. I want you out … saving the world.”

  I glanced up at the aurora borealis. “I’ve always wanted to come here, to see this in person. In case I don’t ever get to, in case I die and … well, thanks.”

  Angel met my eyes and lightly grasped my elbow. “Just do your best. Don’t worry about the pressure. If you fail, I’ll try to find someone else to pick up where you left off …”

  He gave that endearing, apologetic look again. Had it not been for the dire circumstances, it’d have been cute.

  “Great,” I said with a laugh. “That really takes away some of the pressure. Not.”

  “Just do your best,” he repeated. “And hold on for as long as you can.” Gripping my elbow and pulling me in close, he said, “Remember: dodge left, blind him, hold on …”

  I nodded. “Dodge left, blind him, hold on. I don’t know what you want me to do—”

  Angel snapped his fingers. “Personally I want you to kill the dragon. Let’s get to work.”

  “The Big, the Bad and the Ugly”

  With lightning-fast speed, Typhon’s head chomped down at me—one of them—and I dodged left.

  The elongated neck reared back again, saliva dripping from its teeth so that its yellow eyes, flashing intensely for a moment, could regard me along with Typhon’s central head and the other five or six swaying above him. Picture King Ghidorah but with more heads and you wouldn’t be far off.

  “Impressive,” Typhon said.

  “Yeah,” Garfunkel agreed. “See those glowing yellow eyes? He burned time to move that fast. How’d you know to dodge like that?”

  Before Typhon could strike at me again, I thrust up my wrist and imagined the brightest spotlight I’d ever seen. A burst of white light slammed forth into Typhon’s main head. I swept it in a vicious arc across the rest of his heads and he staggered back a step, raising one clawed hand up as a shield.

  Garfunkel whistled. “Damn, Theo, keep the hits comin’!”

  As I hefted the lava axe in one hand, I swept my eyes over the crowd gathered behind and around Typhon. The throng of scratched-up satyr commandos and red bandana’d thugs eyed me warily. The Minotaur shuffled uneasily on his hooves, almost like he felt like joining me. Off to the side, Gan and Echidna huddled, and for once, Gan’s face actually betrayed surprise. And Echidna, well her man had just morphed into a multi-headed monster. And she looked … pleased?

  Typhon straightened up before me, tore off one of his shirt sleeves and wiped his mouth. “You continue to amuse me. I’ll—” he coughed off to the side. “I’ll savor this instead of killing you quick.”

  “Head on the right!” Garfunkel said.

  I nodded. I’d seen that head twitch ever so slightly in preparation.

  Keeping the axe raised defensively, I sidestepped as the slender, sharp-toothed dragon head bit down on the air pocket that had previously contained me.

  “You got lucky,” Garfunkel said. “He didn’t burn time for that attack.”

  “I’m glad you want to play fairly,” I taunted. “Of course, with that cough sounding worse than ever, I don’t blame you not wanting to burn more time than necessary …”

  The eyes of two of Typhon’s dragon heads gleamed gold and I barely had time to think, Shit! let alone twist my torso and leap over the lip of the amphitheater and down onto the top tier of stone benches.

  I grunted as I landed, at the pain inflicted from the teeth that had raked across my back.

  Typhon remained at the rim, all of his eyes glaring at me. He heaved in some breaths before uttering, “Minotaur. Get her.”

  The Minotaur’s hairy Adam’s apple bobbed as I met his eyes.

  He hesitated.

  Typhon rounded on the Minotaur, lashing out with a head, its fangy mouth connecting with the Minotaur’s shoulder, pile-driving him into the floor with a bull-like grunt and a thunderclap of raised dust.

  Typhon growled in a display of dominance before turning to face me down in the amphitheater, flexing his leg muscles before moon-jumping down to finish me.

  It really would’ve been nice if Angel—the Jersey Devil—had given me further instructions after dodging left, blinding with spotlight and holding on. I mean, holding on? Holding on for what?

  For Typhon’s men to turn on him? The Minotaur, maybe. But the rest of his goons? They were
mercenaries. Guns for hire. They wouldn’t turn on their boss—especially not after he’d hulked out and sprouted ugly dragon heads.

  Judging by their callous glances down at me, they would stand back and watch the battle, maybe cheer on the source of their income.

  Pricks.

  They stood with their backs to the great silver doors that were still cracked open, not that there was anyone on the other side who’d be coming through them to my aid.

  I backstepped into the amphitheater’s central aisle, careful not to trip as the cloud of dust and stone fragments dissipated from where my enemy had landed with a boom.

  At first I thought (rather hopefully) that Typhon had disappeared into some spontaneous wormhole, or maybe drove all the way to the earth’s core and had been liquified. But nope, after catching his breath, he came charging out through the dust cloud in a tornadic rage of teeth and claws.

  I sprang up on a stone bench which Typhon razed to dust particles with a single retractable swipe of his claw-arm. Luckily, I leapt down a tier to the next bench. Typhon planted one trunk-like leg and bent his torso, ducked his core while he slung a dragon head at me and I cartwheeled off and hopped back to the upper tier. The dragon head buried itself into the bench, rending it into gravel, while I turned the axe on Typhon.

  Another head shot out and I evaded sideways, slammed the axe’s blade against the reptilian forehead; it bounced back like rain deflected off a windshield. A second head snaked in and gripped the axe in its teeth, wrenched it from my grasp and sent it soaring over the lower tiers and clattering across the amphitheater’s base near the bottom of the steps, coming to a rest near Atlas’s toes.

  The eyes of all the dragon heads started to glow gold and I spun and dove backward in the stands to my elbows and knees. Multiple roars tore at the air, scratching at my eardrums as I kicked and scurried along the curving tier, bobbing under stone benches and pouring over the edges of the subsequent tiers like a lizard.