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

by Ambrose Ibsen

  I'd journeyed into the Beyond and fraternized with a notorious villain to gain new powers, but you know what I still didn't have?

  The power of flight.

  Whiro took off in the direction of Belle Isle, leaving me standing on the very cusp of the city, staring down at the turbulent Detroit River. My sword disappeared into sparks and I was left, literally and figuratively, empty-handed.

  “Fuck,” muttered Germaine, skittering out of the coat and crawling up my pant leg. “How in the hell are we going to get over there? Think we can call in one of the helicopters to give us a lift, or...?”

  I didn't hesitate, diving into the icy waters. Clothes, bitching spider and all.

  “Lucy, man, what are you thinking?” gasped Germaine, barely staying above water. He clung to the top of my head as I began swimming past the remains of the bridge, cutting through the waves with solid strokes. “This is insane, kid. You tryin' to murder me?” Hyperventilating, the spider looked mournfully back to shore. He seemed ready to burst into tears. “I don't do so well in water, man. You know what happens to spiders that go swimming? They end up drowned. Is that what you want?”

  “If you don't want to take on water, keep your stupid mouth shut!” I shouted.

  Whimpering, Germaine remained huddled against my scalp. “What if there are, like, fuckin' sharks in here, huh? Did you ever think of that?” He glanced around, wicking water off of his furry body as I charged through the river. “Lucy, buddy, please tell me we ain't gonna get mauled by sharks or some shit.”

  “It's a river, dumbass,” I spat.

  Demon or no demon, the water was frigid, and my limbs quickly became numb.

  Belle Isle seemed impossibly far, unreachable.

  Still, I paddled on.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  37

  I flopped onto the opposite shore like a fish, scrambling onto a piece of floating rubble and then rolling onto the sand, shivering. I don't know how long it took; the chill in my bones was so intense that it might as well have been days. Eventually, though, I stood and took in my new surroundings, carefully lifting Germaine's terrified bulk off of my head.

  “Don't you ever do that to me again, kid. That shit was too much. You wanna throw lightning bolts and whatnot, go for it. But swimming through that mess is where I draw the line. You leave me behind next time, got it?”

  I ignored him, looking for signs of Whiro, of the others.

  At first, there were none.

  Where the dark lord had gotten off to was a mystery to me. I'd lost track of him on the other shore, had watched him float up into the sky like a lost balloon. Now that I was over here I wanted desperately to find him and settle our score.

  There were bigger fish to fry, as it turned out.

  Something large—no, fucking enormous—moved through the sky gracelessly overhead. What really drove home its titanic size was the Matchbox-sized Black Hawk that tailed it, firing off rockets that fizzled out against its bulk like nothing at all.

  It was the Manticore.

  And he'd grown into a very, very big boy.

  “Holy shit,” I managed, stumbling a few steps further.

  “I'll say...” Germaine gulped. “I've never seen anything like it. Goddamn. It's like a flying fortress.”

  The spider was on the money. Since last we'd tangled, the Manticore had more than doubled in size. Its wings, its terrible face, its fleshy, segmented tail; everything was jumbo-sized. The creature hadn't exactly been small to begin with, but its growth over the course of a day had me reeling. How was this possible? How much had the damn thing eaten?

  I felt sick. My stomach lurched, my bones ached down to the marrow.

  This sucker was just going to keep on growing. It would eat and eat till there was nothing that could stand in its way. And then it would start taking bites out of the planet like a fucking hand-tossed pizza. With extra pepperoni and a side of civilization.

  From behind came another Black Hawk, this one hauling a large payload from a thick line. It was a massive square, whatever it was. The helicopter sidled up to the row of parked SUVs ahead and slowly lowered the load to the ground, setting it upon the grass in a cloud of dust.

  Getting closer, I realized it was the platform Atticus Craven, the failed sorcerer, had used during our last bout with the Manticore. The dead man's seal was still intact, and most of his blood had been scrubbed off of it. Kubo was probably planning on re-using the platform as a stage to launch the Binding of Hekatonkheir. A pretty smart move. Re-using Craven's stuff would save a hell of a lot of time.

  Walking the perimeter of the platform, I let Germaine climb down onto it and sought out Kubo. He was standing with Percy and Malcolm amidst a cloud of pale commandos, staring up into the sky. The Chief was damn sweaty despite the biting cold.

  It was show-time and now he was going to have to perform.

  “Lucy,” he said, grabbing my arm. “Did you handle Whiro?”

  I shook my head. “No, he escaped. Wanted to watch this go down, I guess.”

  Kubo's eyes dropped to my arm. More specifically, to the black, serpentine scar that now dwelled there. He looked it over for a second, eyes narrowed, and then shot me a sharp glance. “Lucy... W-what is this? Since when did you...” He trailed off, and I think that was when he finally put two and two together. Shaking his head, he came in close, looked me in the eyes. “Lucy... is that what I think it is? Demonic magic?” He took a firm hold of my shoulder, was leaning into me like a disappointed father who'd just discovered an issue of Penthouse under his son's bed.

  I motioned to the platform. “Don't worry about that now, Chief. You should get started.”

  Kubo wouldn't let it go, though. He shook me, really got in my face. This was probably the most hysterical I'd ever seen him act. His eyes were wide, his voice wavering. “Lucy... where did you get these marks? What is this?”

  “Believe me, you really don't wanna know, Chief,” said Germaine from the platform.

  I broke away from Kubo and joined Malcolm and Percy. They both had their weapons drawn and were tracking the creature's movements in the sky. The beast was sluggishly dog-fighting the helicopters on its flanks, though if we're being honest the Black Hawks never stood a chance. They were just keeping it busy until those of us on the ground could take over the fight.

  Malcolm loaded a pair of massive shells into his gun. There was a half-spent Camel dangling from his lips as he stared up at the Manticore with disdain. “I was right about this spot. But I never imagined the fucker would get so big.” He watched the creature roll in the sky, his grip on the gun tightening. “I ain't too proud to say it; this is the biggest game I've ever seen. And I'm not so sure we're gonna bring it down.”

  Percy balanced his blade over one shoulder, his fist locked around the bone hilt that was, apparently, his grandfather's femur. “Don't talk like that, dad. We just need to get him down here. Chief Kubo will get his spell going and this will all go according to plan.” He glanced at the Chief. “Right?”

  Kubo, though, was still staring at me, stunned. He was sweating harder, seemed to want to say something, but I couldn't tell whether he was frightened or incensed. It was probably some mixture of both. He was standing beside the platform, and every minute his ass waited to climb onto it and start the hocus-pocus was another minute the Manticore had to dominate us.

  “Chief!” I shouted. “Get moving! Start your spell now. Don't worry about anything else. We're here to save the damn world, and we need you to do this.” I sported a sheepish grin. “We'll... worry about the rest later, yeah?”

  That snapped him out of it. Growing firm, Kubo mounted the platform and cast off his sport coat. From his back pocket he revealed a familiar-looking knife. It was the same ceremonial blade Atticus had used during his attempt. Dashing himself across the palm, he gave me one more glance before issuing his orders. “Keep it busy, all of you. Draw it down here, but keep it away from me. We onl
y get one shot at binding it.” Taking a deep breath, Kubo closed his eyes.

  I took the lead, walking past Malcolm, Percy and the others. “Let's do it.” Walking out into the open field, I watched the Manticore as it circled overhead. In the distance was a large, circular building. The observatory they'd mentioned earlier, by the looks of it. The stone structure had once been beautiful, a real inspired piece of architecture. It now sat in ruins, the roof partially caved in and apparently super cozy for a Manticore.

  The sky turned a deeper shade of grey as I held up my hands. “Hey!” As I shouted, there were two voices issuing from my throat at once. Gadreel and I were speaking in tandem, and the effect was chilling to anyone within earshot. “This ends now!”

  Jags of white lightning danced through the sky directly above the floating beast.

  “Come down here!” I demanded.

  The Manticore was so far off that it couldn't hear me. I was shouting for naught.

  “I said come down here!”

  The monster may not have heard my words, but when I reached out to it with the lightning, it took notice. Bolt after bolt sprang across the gunmetal skies, striking the Manticore as though its carapace were wrapped in tin foil. The swirling clouds spewed everything they had, emptying themselves upon the beast like cannons full of voltage and hail. The air grew thick with the smell of ozone and the temperature rose quickly. Thrashing winds helped to confuse the creature's tremendous wings so that its descent was hastened.

  The closer the Manticore came to Earth, the more I was dumbfounded by its size.

  It was a juggernaut.

  A Goliath.

  When it landed upon the ground less than a hundred feet away, I was amazed to feel the island quiver beneath my feet.

  The creature didn't lash out at us immediately. Staring intently towards me and the men at my back, it seemed to want us to make the first move. Like a house cat transfixed by a toy mouse, its tail was raised in the air, swaying side to side. The claws fixed in its reptilian feet sank into the ground, staking it in place.

  It was anticipating a big fight.

  And I was determined to deliver.

  One final bolt of lightning crashed down to the surface and landed in my outstretched palm. From it materialized the long, bluish sword. Extending the blade towards the Manticore, Gadreel donned a grin. “Here, kitty...”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  38

  The fight to stave off the Apocalypse was here.

  Lunging, I left the others in the dust and set my sights on the snarling beast. Its wild mane quivered as it loosed a rumbling roar. From the rear I heard the report of numerous guns, felt bullets cruising past me towards the Manticore. The creature was so enormous that the shots literally couldn't miss, however the gunfire had, once again, no effect. As I approached, the Manticore began walking towards me, glowing eyes narrowed as though the flurry of bullets were nothing but an afternoon shower.

  The tail came first, the segmented length whipping towards me and packing a wallop. I evaded the stinger narrowly, parrying it with my blade and then driving it back. The Manticore reached out to swipe me, its claws parting the air with a whine, but failed to connect. Gripping the hilt with two hands, I grazed its scaly bulk, parting its leathery flesh with a sizzle. Though the damage was promptly healed and the deep, bubbling cut vanished, the beast actually reared back in pain.

  It felt good to fight with the creature on an even footing, to go mano a mano with it. Though it'd grown larger, stronger, it was no longer able to toss me around like it had before. Gadreel had taken notice, was emboldened by this, and leaned into the creature with terrifying force and persistence.

  I clocked the thing's tail with the butt of my weapon and then dashed it across the mouth as it went in for a bite. The Manticore was more than big enough to swallow a man in one bite, and would have done so to me if I'd been a slower target.

  More gunshots rang out, and among them came the explosive report of Malcolm's elephant gun. Two shots in rapid succession tore into the Manticore's right shoulder, knocking hair from its mane, and gave me another opening. While Malcolm's attack had it distracted, I plunged the tip of my blade through its paw, causing it to stumble. The island rocked as it flopped onto its side, limbs and wings fluttering madly.

  That was when Percy stepped in and brought the game-changer.

  Taking a running jump, the swordsman leapt into the air and cleaved into the Manticore's left wing with his blessed sword, parting the leathery material in a mist of red. He didn't stop there, however. Hitching a ride on the creature's exposed belly, he began to jab and pierce it wherever he could, aiming for the soft spots between the scales. The beast writhed in pain with each cut and uttered awful cries. A lesser creature would have been done in by such blows. As the Manticore flopped back over, righting itself, Percy sprinted across its back, cleaving at both of its wings and taking large chunks out of them.

  Livid, the Manticore tried to take flight.

  Notice I said “tried”. It didn't get far.

  I had zero doubt that its torn-up wings would heal if we let up, however they didn't seem to mend as quickly as the rest of the beast did. There was probably an explanation for this; some idiosyncrasy particular to Manticore anatomy that made its wings heal slower than the rest of it. Not that I gave a shit.

  It was our best strategy to date.

  “The wings!” I shouted over the din of battle. “Aim for the wings!” If all of us focused our attention on wounding the creature's wings, it would remain earthbound. Maybe we couldn't kill it just yet, but we could keep it from flying away on us. Jumping past one of the gigantic paws, I replaced Percy on the Manticore's back and lined up a pretty cut along the right wing-stalk.

  The blue blade parted skin and bone, removing the Manticore's right wing in its entirety with a single well-placed slash.

  That was when I knew we could win.

  That we were going to win.

  The Manticore made sounds I'd never heard from it before, tossing itself onto its back and rolling around like a giant dog. The fallen wing hit the ground with a great thud, and the severed stalk on the creature's back began to bleed profusely. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched the thing thrash confusedly, not knowing how to react. It was pretty clear that a coup of this kind hadn't been expected.

  “Don't let up!” I cried. “Get in there and keep it hurting!” There was no telling whether or not the Manticore could grow another wing, how long it might take it to recover. Right now that we had the higher ground it was imperative that we not let off the gas.

  Percy started running around the thing, continuing to bury his sword into any soft spot he could find, while Malcolm sat back and sent round after round into the creature's face. It wasn't long before the Manticore's mane was sodden with gore, and after several such blows, it actually seemed to hunker down, face pressed to the ground. We had it on the defensive.

  This was everything we'd been waiting for. If we could just keep this up a while longer, the Chief would be able to bind it permanently and we could then figure out a way to find its heart and kill it once and for all.

  I turned around and looked over at the platform, waving to the Chief. “You almost done?” I shouted.

  And then I froze.

  Kubo was standing there, palms pressed together and clothing soaked in sweat. He was swaying, face white as ivory, and looked ready to drop. His lips were moving, but he wasn't looking at the wounded Manticore. His eyes were going blank, about to roll into the back of his head.

  “Chief!” I cried.

  He started losing his balance. I started running for the platform, but it was obvious I wouldn't get there in time to catch him.

  No, Chief... hold on. Don't you fucking die on me, Chief!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  39

  Kubo's eyes were wide, transitioning between glassiness and intense focus. The closer I got to him, th
e more I feared for his life. His hands were slick with blood, which trailed down his wrists, and his entire body was shaking.

  “Chief? Are you OK? Stay with us!” I shouted.

  Kubo did a little nod, his face dripping sweat. His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear what he was reciting.

  Behind us, Malcolm and Percy were falling back as the chimeric hulk soldiered on through everything they could dish out. Its snout was pockmarked with gushing holes, one of its eyes had been destroyed by Malcolm's rounds, and yet it still crawled towards us on its belly. The stump on its back where I'd cut off its right wing was beginning to lengthen, showing signs of regeneration.

  It was coming towards the platform, headed right for us.

  That was no good.

  If it managed to grow back its wing, it would take off and we'd lose it. Maybe for good. But if it decided to stick around and got over here before Kubo could complete his spell, the Manticore would flush all of our hard work down the toilet.

  Taking up my blade, I considered running up to it and lopping off its other wing.

  There was a stir around the platform as Kubo suddenly fell to his knees, his nose gushing and his eyes going blank.

  “C-chief!” I doubled back towards the platform, taking one of his forearms and giving him a slight shake. “Chief, speak to me!”

  His arm was completely slack, however.

  “Chief Kubo...?” I sank to my knees beside him, tried to pick him up. “Snap out of it, Chief!” his body felt heavy as a stone. He wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, and his eyes, though open, were fixed on nothing at all.

  I looked out at the scene before us, at the Manticore that was marching towards the platform now with renewed gusto. Percy and Malcolm had run out of ammo and fight, and had fallen back with the rest. The beast was staring intently at me with its one good eye, and planned to stage a comeback on the platform where I now stood cradling Kubo's body.