Happy End of the World (Demon-Hearted Book 3)

by Ambrose Ibsen

  “A den. We were right.”

  I licked my lips, the icy wind making my face ache. “Where's it at?”

  “The Belle Isle Park. You know it?”

  It took me a few beats to reply. “Is that... the place over the MacArthur Bridge?”

  “That's the one.” Kubo paused. “There's an old observatory there that's housing the creature. We sent one of our guys in and got a positive ID.”

  “Did he come back out?” I asked.

  Silence.

  “So, what's the plan?”

  “We're currently en route,” replied the Chief. “Meet us there.”

  “Meet you there? I'll beat you there.” Stashing the phone, I placed a hand against the brick wall to my back and quickly began to climb. As if gravity had temporarily let up, I scaled the side of the building within seconds and was running across the roof soon thereafter. Taking a running jump, I landed on the cusp of the next building over, this one two stories high, and kept on running.

  “I, uh, take it they found the thing for real, huh?” offered Germaine, holding onto the inside of my pocket for dear life.

  “Indeed they did. We're headed for Belle Isle Park. You ready for this?” As those words left my lips, I wasn't sure who they were most intended for—Germaine or Gadreel?

  “Shit, I guess so. We all gotta go sometime, don't we?” whimpered the spider.

  Gadreel's reply was more resolute. “I was made for war. Today we'll rout the enemy and add another victory to my ledger. However, there is one thing we must do.”

  I stopped on the rooftop of a grey skyscraper, looking out across the city from a dizzying height. Squinting, I tried to make out the form of the MacArthur Bridge. “Yeah?” I asked aloud. “And what's that?”

  The demon replied in my ear. “A champion must ride into battle to the sound of trumpets, right? We must enter the coliseum to the sounds of 'Raw Power'. Can you play that album?”

  “You're in luck.” Cell service in the city was down, which would have ordinarily turned my personal phone into a brick. I had several Stooges MP3s loaded onto the thing though, and turning on a little fight music was a simple matter. Turning the volume all the way up, I put on “Search and Destroy” and dropped it into the pocket where Germaine was cowering.

  “Lucy! The fuck you doing? You trying to make me go deaf, you asshole?” Germaine's whining was drowned out by the jagged roar of James Williams' guitar.

  When Iggy Pop started yowling, I took off again, and this time I had no plans of stopping.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  35

  Are you going to be up to the challenge? I asked the demon as we dashed across the rooftops. We weren't too far from the bridge, but the sky was getting murky up ahead. I couldn't tell if there was a winter storm brewing or if evening had just decided to settle in several hours early.

  “I'll have power to spare,” was Gadreel's cavalier reply.

  Well, the demon was primed and ready for a fight. That had to count for something, right?

  I wondered about the rest of the team, though. Kubo, Malcolm and Percy were heading towards the park, but had they had enough time to prepare their new trap? Kubo was going to be trying his hand at the Binding of Hekatonkheir. I was feeling nervous for him.

  From afar I heard the hum of Black Hawks, and down below I spotted a caravan of black SUVs headed in roughly the same direction I was.

  Bingo.

  Leaping down onto the street, I rolled to one side and then started sprinting towards the foremost vehicle. Sure as shit, Kubo was in the driver's seat, and at spotting me he promptly pulled over and had Percy open the side door. “Get in!” he yelled.

  I dove into the SUV and slumped into one of the seats, barely managing to get the door shut as Kubo peeled off. “Hey, thanks for the ride. Takes a lot of guts to pick up a hitchhiker these days. Never know what kind of psycho you might find on the side of the road.”

  I may as well have been interrupting a funeral. No one laughed at my joke—a pretty good one in my estimation. Seeing as how they all had pre-fight butterflies, I tried not to hold it against them.

  Malcolm was holding onto his elephant gun, gaze fixed on the road ahead. He was itching to get to the den, to pop that sucker in the eyes as it slept. One of his boots was up on the dash, squeaking noisily against the leather with his fidgeting.

  “Malcolm discovered the island in an atlas last night. It was one of the few places we hadn't looked for the thing. Every night, the Manticore retreats from view, and despite the eyes we keep on it from above, it always seems to disappear. Now we know where it's been going. Had the choppers do a fly-over, and the thermal imaging brought back a positive result. Then, like I told you, we sent in a trooper and he visually identified the thing. It's taken shelter in an abandoned observatory. A good hiding spot, though if it gets much bigger it's going to have to start looking for a new place to live.” Kubo glanced back at me. “What've you been up to?”

  Germaine pushed my phone out of my pocket and tumbled out onto the floor of the SUV. Once he'd regained his bearings, he crawled up onto Kubo's headrest. “He's been a major league dick, for starters. Listening to his loud-ass music like a moody teenager and trying to make this old man go deaf.”

  “Sorry I wasn't around last night,” I offered. “But I plan on ending this today. I'll bring the fucker down if it's the last thing I do.” The demon lurched in my chest, as if to add his seal of approval to that message.

  Kubo nodded. “Well, our forces, including the three of you, will distract the beast while I prep the spell. If I succeed at casting it, the biggest hurdle will have been cleared. And if I don't, then I've already consulted with two other contractors who may be able to fill my role.”

  “Hey, don't talk like that,” I said. “You'll pull it off. I have confidence in you, Chief. And, with the team we've got? You'll have all the time you need. We've got a talking spider in our corner. We've got not one, but two generations of the Sterling family on our side. No need to worry.”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “Three. We have three generations of the Sterling family here with us today,” he corrected.

  Confused, I looked to Percy, who grinned. “Oh, right.” He reached back and gripped the bone forming the hilt of his sword. “This bone here belonged to my grandfather, Craddock. It's his femur. After grandpa's funeral, dad and I cleaned up the bone and decided to use it as the hilt for a blessed weapon. That way, you know, gramps would always have our back.” He related this little anecdote with a smile. I shit you not, there were tears in his eyes, as if this were some heart-warming little craft he'd done with his dad as a child.

  I thought it was kind of fucked up, but whatever. “C-cool. So, uh... three generations, then. See, Chief? This is going to be an easy one. No stress.”

  Kubo grunted, tapping the accelerator and blowing through a flashing red light. Up ahead, the bridge was coming into view. Seeing it completely empty, barren of cars or pedestrians, was damn eerie.

  “Do you have everything you need? For the spell?” asked Germaine.

  “I hope so,” replied the Chief. “I have all of the materials, anyhow. The skill? I'm unsure.”

  I frowned. “Hey, I get it. This spell is tough shit. The Calculus of the magic world, am I right? You've got it in you, Chief. I'm confident of that. Don't rattle yourself prematurely.”

  Kubo just laughed me off, though. “This spell is unlike anything I've ever attempted, Lucy. Even if I do pull it off there's no guarantee I'll survive.” He smiled warmly, falling into a brief reverie. “I first learned magic under my grandfather. He ran a Shinto temple in Kyoto, was the kindest, most patient man I've ever known. He guided me through those first few spells very closely, but then he set me loose, really let me experiment. He was always talking about how, in magic, willpower is the strongest ingredient, and so long as you have a good deal of it, you can accomplish anything. He wasn't wrong, but I doubt that either of
us ever believed I'd be trotting out a spell of this caliber. I was going to take over his temple once he retired, but the old man passed away and I chose another path. Maybe I'll be seeing him again soon, eh?”

  Usually I'd have been more than happy to hear about the Chief's past, but in this instance it was freaking me out. Kubo wasn't one to open up, to talk about himself a whole lot. If he was doing it now, it was probably because he thought there was a significant chance of his buying the farm. “Don't start, Chief--”

  Suddenly, the SUV swerved, nearly crashing into the railing near the entrance of the bridge. The other SUVs in the caravan barely managed to keep from rear-ending us and screeched to a stop. Germaine hit the windshield with a fleshy thud and the rest of us were thrown forward in our seats.

  “What happened?” asked Percy, peering over the edge of Kubo's headrest.

  I looked out the windshield and found someone standing on the bridge, perhaps fifty yards away. When last I'd looked at the bridge, it'd been empty. In the space of an instant, this figure had appeared there, however. The black garb and white mask gave him away.

  “Whiro.” I uttered the name under my breath like a curse. Last I'd heard, the Veiled Order hadn't seen hide nor hair of this guy for a while now. We'd met him on that rooftop when Joe had gotten stung, but in the ensuing chaos I think it's safe to say that we all forgot about him. The dark lord had probably been watching from the shadows, making sure that we didn't get too close to defeating his prized creature. Now, he was back.

  And he was walking towards the SUV.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  36

  Kubo and I got out of the car. How we managed to get Malcolm to stay put is a mystery. The guy had picked up his gun and leveled it on Whiro, ready to blast straight through the windshield. Without being prompted, Germaine dashed out behind me and situated himself on my shoulder, arms raised, like he hoped to look threatening.

  “Stand down,” Kubo urged as the two of us got out to meet him.

  The dark lord stood a few feet from the hood of the SUV now, arms crossed. “You're wasting your time,” came the breezy voice from behind the mask. “The beast has fed further. Very soon now, by tonight, I predict, it will have reached critical mass. The world you know is in its final hours. Haven't you fools something more pleasurable to fill this time with, or are you really so dead-set on chasing oblivion? Surely you should go and spend time with your loved ones... a generous offer, I think, when you consider everything the Veiled Order stole from me.” Whiro's voice hardened a bit as he finished.

  “Chief,” I said, my eyes fixed on the cloaked figure, “you guys go on ahead. I'll take care of this clown.”

  “No. We'll all take him on and then proceed to--”

  “I wasn't asking, Chief. You guys don't have the time to fuck around with him right now. I'll keep him busy. The rest of you need to get your asses in gear. You know I'm right. Every minute you stay here is another minute the Manticore can roam freely.” I unbuttoned my coat. “Go on.”

  After a brief hesitation, Kubo got the picture and returned to the vehicle, signaling to the other drivers that they were going to proceed. Engines revved and SUVs maneuvered past Whiro, who made no motion to stop them. He was watching me from behind that porcelain-colored mask, his empty eyes boring into me.

  I didn't know what I was getting into here, but Gadreel was getting awfully excited at the prospect of a one-on-one. As the vehicles sped up and began across the bridge, the demon chuckled in my ear. “It's always good to limber up before a big fight. This wretch will do nicely.”

  I threw off my coat, left it fluttering in the icy wind. “Let's do this.”

  “Careful, Lucy,” said Germaine, taking cover in the discarded coat. “He's out to kill.”

  Whiro, though, was preoccupied. He looked over his shoulder, at the bridge beyond, and then raised one of his withered hands towards the sky. Grunting, he closed his fist and generated a shockwave from seeming nothingness that rattled the structure to its foundation.

  He was destroying the bridge.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  The bridge began tumbling into the Detroit River, piece by piece. The caravan of SUVs were almost across by that time, looked like they were going to make it onto Belle Isle, but the dark lord had effectively cut me off from the action unless I was willing to go for a dip. The supports were warped out of shape, torn from their places, and the road joining the city to the island began to drop in chunks so vast that they sent up great waves. If I watched closely, I could almost see the energies he was utilizing, could observe the way he turned the air all around us into a wrecking ball and lashed out at the metal supports beneath the bridge.

  There's no shame in admitting it. I was impressed. Whiro was capable of controlling air, of projecting his strength into his surroundings. During a previous dustup, I'd seen him deflect bullets with a similar technique, and I didn't doubt that he could bring the pain.

  Of course, I had new tricks of my own. The black scar on my left arm ached just a little as Gadreel stepped in.

  “They will make it to the island safely,” said Whiro, seemingly amused with himself. “But they won't leave it. They will hand-deliver themselves to the Manticore, its last meal. How does it feel, knowing that your friends are mere morsels to the beast? When they've been digested, integrated, your world and everything in it will come crashing down.”

  “I don't think the two of us have been properly introduced,” said Gadreel through me, arms growing tense and the chilly air growing suddenly humid.

  Whiro sensed the change in me and differed his stance. Cocking his head to one side, he began towards me. “I'm not in the habit of introducing myself to dead men. I assure you, this will be over quickly.”

  It was on like Donkey Kong.

  * * * * *

  “You've been keeping a low profile lately,” I said. “That's wise. Here I thought we'd see more of you. How does the Manticore feel about your absence? Does it make him sad, knowing that Papa Whiro doesn't bother to come and watch his fights?”

  The dark lord shook his head. “You misunderstand. The creature has grown too powerful. Even I cannot control it any longer. It operates on its own now, requires no guidance. It's like asking a general why he doesn't stand by and watch his own bombs go off. There is no need.” He changed the subject. “Why should a demon like you assist the Veiled Order?” asked Whiro as he closed in.

  It was a question I'd been asked too many damn times. Gadreel wasn't too interested in responding and started at him, the air between my fingers sparking.

  Like my fingers had been turned into sparklers, I harnessed each and every discharge, summoning up a tangible weapon from the electrified air. I closed my hand around something substantial; a hilt. From it there sprang a long, bluish blade.

  A sword borne of the lightning.

  With a savage scream, Gadreel reared back and took a swing. The dark lord was taken aback by this display and just barely managed to resist, throwing up an invisible barrier of supercharged air. The blade was effectively deflected to the ground, where the tip sank into the pavement like room temperature butter.

  Gadreel, for all of his savagery, wasn't so stingy as to keep me out of the fray. I could see and feel everything that was going on. And I could even comment. Raising up the sword and delivering a quick thrust of the blade at that white mask, I growled. “I'm going to make you pay for what you did to my friend. And when I'm through with you, your monster is next on my list!”

  The jab missed the mark. Side-stepping me, Whiro's warped hands kept the invisible barrier going, the air around us surging as though we were standing in the eye of a tornado. Leaning towards me, the dark lord balled a fist and went in for a knockout punch, the wind borne energy surrounding his knuckles the equivalent to a loaded glove.

  Doing so brought him too close for comfort however, and I landed a punch of my own against his flimsy chest, k
nocking the breath out of him. He doubled back, a hand pressed to his cloaked breast, and sucked wind while I caught a whiff of ozone in the air. “Eat shit,” muttered the demon, summoning up a lightning storm.

  The grey skies overhead began to boil, and from the clouds there jumped columns of white lightning, too many to count. They struck the water, which was still sloshing for the disintegration of the bridge. They battered Whiro's air shield and damn near toasted my fur coat, where Germaine was cowering.

  “Give him hell, Lucy... but don't go crisping me up in the process!” cried the spider.

  Barely able to catch his breath, Whiro tried to go on the offensive as my lightning strikes dissipated. I had no plans of giving up ground however, and promptly gave my sword a swing, aiming right for his neck.

  The blow fell short, but I did succeed in nicking the bottom of his mask, cracking the material and forcing it off of his face. That was my best opportunity yet to land a deathblow, but I faltered.

  Glimpsing the visage underneath, I was momentarily swayed from my rage.

  Whiro didn't really have a face. Where a face should have been I discovered only a sucking void, a turbulent blackness where there should have been the usual features. One look at that emptiness left me stunned, and I admit that I stepped away.

  Whiro knelt down to pick up his mask, quickly returning it to his face. The chipped bottom corner gave me enough of a peek into the hideousness beneath to remain unsettled. “You're lucky,” said the dark lord. “A mere glimpse of my true face is enough to kill mortal men.”

  “A pity I'm no mortal,” was Gadreel's rejoinder.

  As I circled him, sword raised and ready for a strike, Whiro sighed. “I suppose that's enough,” he said. “I can feel the Manticore stirring, and I wish to witness the Apocalypse from the front row. If you'll excuse me.” Leaping into the air, the dark lord stayed there, slowly gaining altitude until he looked down at me from a distance of no less than twenty feet. “Goodbye, demon.”