He had a point. My most valuable possession, my eternal soul, was already lost to hellfire. The only things I had left to lose in this world were the people I cared about. I grit my teeth. I'd already taken the leap, entered into this demonic bargain before I'd even known what I was getting into. Why not go a little deeper? “All right, I'm listening. Tell me some more.”
As quickly as he'd appeared, Gadreel suddenly spun out of existence. In his place was now a giant, black cellphone. It rang loudly, the black clamshell vibrating against the stone floors. It must've been as big as I was. The screen flickered to life, and on it was a picture of Chief Kubo, his face red, his mouth open in a shout of anger.
“Wake the hell up, Lucy!” said Germaine. It wasn't until I rolled over in bed and caught a hint of the sunlight that I realized he'd been saying it for a while now. I glanced across the room and found the spider dragging my buzzing phone over the carpet towards the bed. “It's Chief Kubo. He wants to brief ya on the day's mission.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
22
I felt more like myself after a shower. The few hours of sleep I'd managed had been enough to smooth out the bumps and aches I felt from the previous night's tussles. Hurrying through a convenience store for a bag of pretzels and a soda, Germaine and I had started off towards HQ on foot. The day was young, and though it might've been the warmth of the sun that was driving up my mood, I admit that I was feeling somewhat hopeful.
Kubo had asked me to get to HQ within the next two hours. He was getting everything ready for the night's Manticore hunt and sounded groggy, like he'd traded his blood for coffee. The plan was the same; we were going to lure the Manticore to HQ with a bit of coordinated violence, and once it was in the crosshairs we'd leash it with a powerful binding spell. The only change had been his sourcing of some grade-A magical talent. He'd found a sorcerer with experience in casting the Binding of Hekatonkheir, and sounded damned relieved not to have to cast it himself.
As we walked, the warmth of the day such that I was able to unbutton my fur coat, I chatted with Germaine. Of course, I kept my voice down; some dude wandering around in a fur coat chattering to himself will draw some weird looks, even in Detroit. “Hey, what if there were some way for me to give Gadreel more power? You know, if there were something I could do that would super-charge my demonic strength so that I could compete against the Manticore?”
The spider chuckled within my pocket. “Is this one of those games, where we talk about the impossible shit we'd love to have? OK, my turn. Wouldn't it be something if I woke up a human tomorrow? In a yacht full of money? With two dicks?”
“I'm serious,” said I, grimacing. “What if there were some way for me to give the demon a leg up?”
“Well, then it would be a bad idea, I reckon,” replied Germaine. “You know, because the demon can't be trusted.”
“Even if it would allow me to save the world?” I added.
Germaine hesitated. “I mean, I'm not really sure. Cuz here's the thing. Even if Gadreel could stomp the shit out of Whiro and the Manticore, the world would still have Gadreel to deal with. No way the demon could gain that much strength and not completely steamroll your personality. The demon would be the only thing left. You'd be history. And I don't think that'd be good news for the Earth.”
I dropped it. There was no sense in debating the point further. I knew Germaine had a point. Gadreel was a demon. I couldn't trust him implicitly. Dealing with the demon was always a risk, and even though I'd gotten better at controlling him than ever before, I couldn't rule out the possibility that he'd try and double-cross me in the hopes of gaining power. Maybe the demon was intentionally laying low, making me think that my mindfulness training had been effective, just so that he could take me over completely at the best possible moment.
But was Gadreel really that conniving? There was no way for me to be sure. I knew that Gadreel wanted Whiro and the Manticore dead. My enemies were Gadreel's enemies, and if the Manticore gained enough power to bring about the Apocalypse, then Gadreel would buy the farm along with the rest of mankind. It was in his best interests, as well as my own, to take down this creature.
But how much could I trust him not to fuck me over?
Germaine had fallen deep into thought. “Man,” he finally said, “what do you think it would be like?”
“What?” I asked.
“Having two dicks,” replied the spider.
I gave my pocket a jostle, sending him into a fit of cursing.
The longer we walked, the more I wondered whether I even had a say in this matter.
If I wanted to save the world, to save my buddy, the choice was pretty clear.
The ball was in the demon's court.
Gadreel's words rang in my ears. I turned around, expecting to see the hideously visaged demon leaning towards me, whispering.
“Your soul is already damned. You have nothing left to lose.”
* * * * *
Malcolm and Percy were out, which left just Kubo, Germaine and I in the lobby. “What, are those hicks out chain-smoking or something?” I asked.
Kubo ignored me, sitting back in one of the plush chairs. The lobby at Veiled Order HQ was pristine, and come to think of it, I don't think I'd ever seen anyone sit in the large chairs offered there. The Chief, the circles around his eyes looking so dark I thought he might've gotten punched, loosed a great sigh. “We're waiting on Atticus Craven.”
Germaine crawled across a coffee table, leafing through an issue of Reader's Digest. I wondered just then who in this secret society was subscribed to freaking Reader's Digest. “We're waiting on who? Did you just make up that name?” asked the spider.
I nodded. “Atticus Craven is a made-up name, I guarantee it. No one's given a name like that one at birth outside of The Lord of the Rings.”
“Atticus Craven is a master of the craft. He's also an expert on one particular spell, the Binding of Hekatonkheir, which we'll be utilizing to bind the Manticore. He's spent many years studying the spell and has a much better chance of pulling it off than I do. I ran it by Malcolm and he was all right with it. Mr. Arson, though, may not be too pleased. Consulting Atticus Craven is going to cost the Veiled Order an arm and a leg. He'll be here soon. He's traveling from the Underground.”
“Why don't you just do it?” I asked. “I know you've talked about how tough it is to cast, but I've never seen you struggle with spells before, Chief. You're among the best I've ever seen in that arena.”
Kubo, never one to take a compliment, grunted. “It's a spell of inhuman, godly proportions, that's why. Maybe I could pull it off, but I'm not interested in playing Russian Roulette. Look at it this way; a spell like this one is in Craven's wheelhouse. Better to let him step in and do it. He's being paid handsomely for his work, and he knows the risks better than anyone.”
“So, this guy with the fancy name and the mega paycheck... is he gonna know how to kill it once we've trapped it?” asked Germaine.
Wiping at his eyes, Kubo stifled a yawn. “No, however I think I've found something that'll do the trick. Had to leaf through books damn near all night, but I found a mention in an ancient Persian text about the Manticore's weakness. Turns out that piercing its heart will kill it.”
I jumped up out of my chair like my team had just barreled into the end zone. “That's all? We've got this one in the bag!”
Kubo waved me back into my chair, too exhausted to deal with my excited ass. “Calm the fuck down, Lucy. If it were that easy we'd have killed it already.” He cleared his throat, crossing his legs. “See, the Manticore's heart isn't in the usual place. It's hidden somewhere within its body, damn near impossible to hit, except by chance. Another source made mention of its heart, and about how the Manticore can shift it around within its body to avoid being pierced. Which makes it all the harder.”
My own heart lurched a little, the muscle flopping. “Don't say. That's going to be tough, but as long as we have it bo
und with that spell we can take turns stabbing it from every angle. We'll hit it eventually.”
Kubo frowned. “Well, let's hope we can find something more elegant than that.”
Germaine hopped into my lap, pointing at the Chief. “So, why don't you get a little sleep, Kubo? Ya look like death.”
The Chief shook his head. “No, not yet, I'm afraid. I've had a few naps, but there's still much to do. While Malcolm picks up more ammo, my bosses have me working on another project. See, we need to get eyes off of the beast and onto something else. We're planning a diversion. The media's been tipped off about a potential explosion far from where the real action will be happening.”
“Whoa, you're staging a false-flag attack to distract everyone from what's going on out here?” I was impressed. “This conversation is a conspiracy theorist's wet dream.”
“Well,” continued the Chief, “it'll be easier to dispatch a larger number of Black Hawks to survey the city that way. If there's an explosion and the media's been fed lies about a potential terrorist attack, no one will bat an eye at the presence of black helicopters in the air. They'll actually be scanning the city for signs of the Manticore, and once it's found their orders are to engage. Like Malcolm suggested, we're going to piss it off and lead it here, where we'll bind it and hopefully bring this mission to an end. Unless,” he added, “it blows up in our faces.”
“Sure, but what about Whiro? Got any plans for the dark lord in all of this?” asked Germaine. He returned to the Reader's Digest, skimming an article that listed “39 TIPS TO HELP YOU SAVE AT THE SUPERMARKET.”
Apparently Kubo had overlooked the dark lord, or else hadn't come up with a solid plan for dealing with him, because he looked annoyed at the question. “The best we can hope for is to deal with him when he reveals himself. Whiro is powerful, but he can't take all of us on. Not without his monster. We'll be keeping an eye out, however our chief concern is the Manticore.”
I was eager to get started. The sooner we wrapped this thing up, the sooner we could siphon off some of that creature's blood and help Joe. It was still early, though. We needed to wait until nightfall to start luring the Manticore. “So, do we rendezvous after dark, then?” I asked.
Kubo stood up. “Both of you, stay put. I don't want you wandering off before the big show. Relax in one of the conference rooms, if you want.” His phone began to ring, and he fished it out of his jacket pocket with a grimace. “I'll be... around.”
Slumping back into my chair, I nodded to Germaine. “You think this plan is going to work?”
The spider, still positioned before the magazine, turned a page. “Lucy, did you know that organic avocados are a scam? The peels of an avocado are thick, so the pesticides don't get into 'em. Bananas, too.” He grumbled. “I ain't ever shelling out the extra for organic again.”
The world was hanging in the balance, but at least my thrifty spider bro had taught me how to lower my weekly produce bill.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
23
Minutes turned to hours.
I wandered the complex, pacing up and down halls, getting a better look at the building than I'd ever done.
Germaine and I also took turns riding the elevator up and down whenever Kubo wasn't around.
It occurred to me as I wandered the sterile halls and rooms of the headquarters building that, after tonight, there might not be a headquarters building at all. If this plan didn't go as expected, or if the Manticore put up a bigger fight than we anticipated before we managed to trap it, then it was very possible the building would get trashed. I had all kinds of questions about the building and its history. How long had it stood there, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but long stretches of highway to be found within miles? If it was so damn secret, why hadn't it been built as an underground bunker? Did it have any special defenses? Did anyone ever prank the Veiled Order, ordering dozens of pizzas to be delivered outside those imposing black gates?
All of this was a distraction to what was really on my mind, though.
Joe still has a chance. If we win tonight, we can bleed that sucker until it croaks and get Joe squared away.
It'll seem stupid, sentimental, but even with the entire world, the entire species at risk, all I could think about was saving my friend. Joe and I hadn't known each other for that long in the grand scheme of things, but unlike my other friends he was a standup guy, a loyal and kind friend.
“Do you think it'll work?” I asked Germaine again as we paced around the file room. Germaine had wanted to get another look at the rare books in the Order's collection and was crawling across the shelves, remarking now and then on their value.
“For the hundredth time, kid, I don't know.” Germaine dropped down onto a desk lamp, sighing. “Just cool it. You're a Nervous Nellie.”
Leaning against one of the desks, I thought back, yet again, to Gadreel's offer and wondered what it entailed. He wants me to seek out a “Servant of Darkness”. Is it worth it? If we fail tonight, will I take him up on whatever he's offering? To save the world? To save Joe?
Germaine continued. “The way you keep yapping about it is kinda sad, honestly. Just quit it. You're going into it with the wrong mindset, wondering what'll happen if we fail. Don't think of it that way, else it'll be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
We continued through the basement, past the containment room where I'd spent a few new moons. I touched the outside of the metal door, envisioned the stone walls inside, the intricate inscriptions within that would subdue my demonic powers. A small part of me wished I could spend the night in there, rather than do battle against the Manticore. This fortified room was likely the safest spot in the city, all things considered.
Turning around, Germaine and I encountered a couple of commandos. They were just gearing up, some of them still wearing street clothes. “Hey, it's the Demon-Heart!” said one.
I felt a rough slap against my back. One of the foot soldiers, a big guy with a buzz cut, laughed a booming laugh. “Usually I ain't too fond of going into battle with the likes of you,” he said, pointing at me. “But tonight, I'm glad you're in our corner against that big ol' fucker.”
I grinned. “Let's give it hell.” In my head, things weren't quite so rosy and motivational, though. The Manticore was huge, nasty, damn near unstoppable. Shit, it was terrible enough to make these guys, who ordinarily despised me, come around. To the enemy, we were all just fun-sized candies waiting to be eaten.
From there, Germaine and I headed back to the lobby, chatting up the attendant at the front desk and bumming a few granola bars off of him.
It was just before sunset when the guest of honor arrived.
Atticus Craven, spellcaster of legend, came in through the front door of HQ with a cadre of Veiled Order guys. He walked with a long stride, a brown cloak cast over his thin frame and his bearded face set in a semi-permanent smirk.
You know how I knew this guy was Atticus Craven before Kubo even came up and introduced me to him? It's because he looked like the most generic, wizardly character ever. Seriously, the guy looked like he'd just walked out of a D&D Player's Handbook, was carrying a knotted wooden staff and everything. He spoke with a British accent, and his eyes were perpetually narrowed in what I supposed was constant judgement.
“This is the guy, huh? Dumbledore or whatever?” Germaine crawled into my pocket, mumbling, “I hope he's good at more than just putting on airs.”
Kubo waved me over, introduced me to the guy and urged me to shake his hand. I did so, meeting his perfunctory smile with a forced one of my own. He wasn't really interested in knowing my name or what role I'd be playing in the night's proceedings, but simply gave a disinterested “How do you do?” before continuing on down the line.
Meanwhile, someone else wandered into the lobby. It was Arson. Greeting the wizard with a hell of a lot more warmth than he'd ever shown me, Arson shook Atticus' hand and gushed like a school girl. “It's a great pleasure to me
et a craft-user of your caliber. So glad you could make it. Your travels were pleasant, I hope.” The big boss looked sleep-deprived, but with his face lit up at the sight of the visitor, he looked more like a kid who'd stayed up all night waiting for Santa.
Listening to Arson chatter, you'd think he'd invited Atticus to HQ for a spot of tea. He disappeared with the guest down the hall.
The small crowd in the lobby dispersed. Kubo led me to the conference room where not only Arson and the wizard were situated, but both Percy and Malcolm waited. Father and son had returned to the complex only moments ago by the looks of it, and were choosing their seats.
“Well, I think this is everyone,” said Kubo, clapping his hands. “Malcolm, have you met Atticus Craven?”
The old hunter looked up, fishing around in his breast pocket for his smokes. He bobbed his head in salutation, then said, “You our spellcaster?”
Arson stiffened noticeably, his boyish face taking on a hard scowl. “Atticus here is a renowned spellcaster, one of the most talented sorcerers working today,” he explained, smoothing out the front of his coat and dropping into a chair. “He is also a scholar with numerous influential publications to his name. Please address him with a bit more respect.”
Arson's bromance with the wizard was getting to be a bit much for me.
Atticus, though, was unbothered. Chuckling amusedly, he nodded. “Yes, I'll be the one assisting you tonight. I've studied the Binding of Hekatonkheir for decades and have even authored a book on it.”
I sat down next to Percy and propped my legs up onto a vacant chair. “Cool. But have you, you know... ever actually performed it?”
Arson, Craven and even Kubo looked like they were ready to kick my ass out of the meeting, but Malcolm's no-fucks-given addendum shut them up before they could criticize my insouciance.
Happy End of the World (Demon-Hearted Book 3) Page 10