Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2)

by Ambrose Ibsen

  It didn't really matter, though. Agamemnon had all of us arranged just where he wanted us. I had no way of knowing just how long those explosives had left, but they were going to go off soon. When they did, it'd be game over.

  Strolling in like a king, flanked by marching undead, Agamemnon raised his scythe in the air. “Well, as predicted, the cavalry has come. I suppose you intend to stop me?”

  Kubo, his busted arm still in a sling, leveled his gun at the necromancer and fired off two shots in quick succession. The bullets hit their mark, sinking into Agamemnon's bare chest while the horde moved in. I watched from beneath the web of stone-like zombies as the necromancer's wounds quickly healed over. He hadn't even flinched as the bullets connected. Silver was awfully painful for a creature like me, but he'd shrugged it off like a mosquito bite.

  At the same time, Kanta took the lead, unsheathing the Archangel Saber. The luminosity of the blade alone was sufficient to force back the mass of undead, and as she held it out in front of her, I felt the zombies atop me quickly weaken. I wasn't spared from the sword's power, either. Already suffering, my eyes began to burn, and I squeezed them shut as tightly as I could to block out the blinding light.

  The sight of that sword knocked the grin straight off of Agamemnon's face. “Where did you get that?” he demanded. Holding the scythe out in front of him, Agamemnon ignored everyone else in the room. So far as he was concerned, only Kanta and the sword in her hand was real. “Where did you get that weapon?” he shouted again.

  Kanta waved the blade before her slowly, warding off the cowering zombies who only moments ago had been closing in on them. “I think you know exactly where we got it.”

  Our theft of the sword apparently hadn't reached Agamemnon. That poor sap in the Underground, Dennis, probably hadn't gotten in touch with the necromancer to let him know, fearing the consequences. Rightfully so; Agamemnon would have flayed the guy if he'd known what we did.

  Agamemnon motioned to his minions. “Attack!”

  The undead flinched at the sound of his voice and began to approach Kubo and the others once more. A single wave of the sword was enough to beat them back, however, and they gave up yet more ground, crowding around the necromancer fearfully. That's right; Kanta didn't even have to cut the things. They knew what that sword could do. These shambling, rotting things couldn't process a whole lot, but they were capable of fearing the Archangel Saber.

  Scowling, Agamemnon switched tactics. “This building is set to explode in less than five minutes. I will survive the blast, but the rest of you will not be so fortunate. I don't suppose that the grudge you bear me is worth dying for, is it?”

  Persuasive though that argument might have been, Kanta wasn't having it. “So be it. I'll strike you dead, no matter the cost.”

  Joe and Percy were hanging back, near the door. Judging by the wild looks in their eyes, they weren't too keen on the dying part. Germaine was clinging to the scabbard of Percy's sword, while Kubo took hold of a spare clip and began picking off zombies.

  “Enough talk!” barked Kubo between deafening headshots. “It's over, Agamemnon.” One after another, the cowering zombies hit the floor. Pausing only to reload, Kubo made quick work of the horde. Before long there were only a handful left in the lobby with us. He shot a couple of the undead that clung to me as well, breaking the chain and setting me free.

  Of course, I wasn't really in a position to go anywhere. My left leg refused to heal, and I still couldn't speak for the gash in my throat unless the demon took over. If I'd tried standing up on my one good leg, chances were about fifty-fifty that my guts would spill out. No, I stayed right there on the floor where I was, breathing heavily. Kanta had this all wrapped up. No sense in my trying to be the tough guy again.

  Agamemnon was furious, and the sweat accumulating on his brow was beginning to smear the ash on his face. I wanted to make some joke about his mascara running, but, you know... I couldn't talk.

  Joe and Percy pushed through the corpses and pulled me across the lobby, towards the door. They looked at me with alarm and pity. I felt like a train wreck but could barely imagine what I looked like at that moment.

  “So be it,” said Agamemnon, raising the scythe and approaching Kanta. “This room shall be your grave.”

  The fight of all fights began. In one corner was Kanta, armed with the Archangel Saber. It was a frightful thing to me, what with its materials having come from Heaven itself. In the other corner was Agamemnon, wielding a scythe that belonged to the Grim Reaper. Even he was spooked by the sword, though.

  Considering the nature of the weapons, it was clear that whoever landed the first blow would be the winner. That made this fight surprisingly normal. This was something of an old-fashioned duel; you got one shot, and one shot only. The first one to get hurt would end up dead. Despite my injuries, I managed to sit up a bit and watch. Kubo backed up towards us, reloading his gun yet again and preparing to step in.

  The two combatants fell into a slow dance, weapons poised for a quick strike. Despite the power of that sword, I felt Kanta was at a major disadvantage in this bout. She was tough as they came, no doubt, but Agamemnon's skill on the battlefield was incredible. He was the best fighter I'd ever faced. One wrong move and Agamemnon would tear her to shreds. Moreover, the scythe, and his impressive stature, gave him a lot more reach and power.

  The weapons met. Agamemnon swung his scythe like a punk with a baseball bat, and though Kanta managed to block the attack, the force of the necromancer's strike left her rattled. Sparks flew as the blades met, and they remained locked against one another in a power struggle for a few breathless moments until the two of them pulled away and prepared for a second go.

  Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

  It was Kubo. Kneeling beside me, he took a potshot at the necromancer. The bullet grazed Agamemnon's leg and was probably intended to serve as a distraction to him. The effect was the opposite, however.

  Agamemnon's focus was unshakeable. His mind was like steel, and even the crack of a silver bullet wasn't enough to force him from his trance. Kanta, though, was taken by surprise and flinched. That was the opening the necromancer needed, and with the same dirty trick he'd used on me, he stooped low and knocked Kanta's legs out from underneath her.

  Kubo unloaded his gun, blasting Agamemnon again and again, but by that point, it was too late. The necromancer was on the move. He took a step back, accepting the bullets without complaint, and prepared his next strike; a downward slash. He was going to marry Kanta's spine to the carpet beneath.

  Kanta lost her grip on the sword. The Archangel Saber went tumbling across the floor, well out of her reach. The blade was half-lost within a mass of corpses. Sensing the attack from above, Kanta rolled to one side, pulled a hair from her head and narrowly avoided being routed. A gleaming trident materialized in her hands, and with it she met the necromancer's hammer-blow.

  But she was still pinned to the ground. If she gave an inch, the tip of the scythe was going to end up buried in her chest. Kanta panted, lifting the trident like a bar on a bench press with altogether too many plates loaded onto it, and struggled against Agamemnon's might. Her arms were shaking already. It was clear how this was going to go.

  Joe and Percy stepped in, preparing their attacks while Kubo went looking for a seal to use. All the while, Kanta was on the chopping block, about to give up the ship.

  A fresh slew of zombies from the hallways kept the three of them from interfering. With the angelic sword out of sight, buried in a heap of bodies, the zombies had their fight back. They sprang from all of the dark corners and laid into Percy, Joe and Kubo something fierce. The trio held their ground, but were sufficiently blocked from rushing the necromancer like they'd wished. Kubo was forced to resort to his gun once again, and as the bullets finally ran out, he whipped out his Ka-Bar and simply tried to keep himself from being crushed by the stampede of undead.

  And so went the world. The necromancer
was a hair's breadth from killing Kanta. When that was done, he'd kill the rest of them before they could recover the sword and then the building would explode. He would live, all of us would die, and he'd be free to take over the city, just like he'd planned.

  In the chaos, Agamemnon forgot all about one vital player, however.

  No, I'm not talking about me.

  I'm talking about Germaine-fucking-Fox.

  FORTY-THREE

  The Brazilian Wandering Spider pounced.

  I hate bugs, make no mistake, but as I watched Germaine rocket off of Percy's back, spiral through the air, and land on Agamemnon's boulder-like shoulder, I wanted to cheer.

  “All right, you evil prick,” shouted Germaine. “I hope they've got Cialis in this new world of yours, cuz you're never getting it up again!” Germaine sank his fangs into the necromancer's flesh for everything he was worth.

  Surprisingly, Agamemnon reacted. Cringing, he tried to toss the annoying creature from his shoulder. The fangs were in too deep, however, and with every twitch, Germaine just dug in deeper. “You vile little--” The necromancer, his focus temporarily weakened, gave up some ground against Kanta, who pushed back with renewed gusto against the Scythe of Thanatos. Her trident looked about to fold; her weapon was creaking, bending slightly as it staved off the necromancer's blade.

  Germaine had gifted her a bit of time, delayed the inevitable for a few minutes, but it couldn't last forever. Agamemnon was going to double down and break through her trident. He was still going to win, unless something drastic was done. Kubo, Joe and Percy weren't faring well. There were so many zombies entering from every entrance that they scarcely had room to move. Joe tossed a series of fireballs about the lobby, but his aim was thrown off by the constant blows of the undead, and as a result he burned up more furniture than anything. Percy could hardly swing his sword, they were so crowding in on him. And the Chief, poor guy, was getting hammered, barely able to stay upright. He'd lost his knife and was forced to pistol-whip his way out of the throng.

  There was only one thing to do. The plan entered my mind, and if I'm being honest, my entire being recoiled at the very thought of it. But another moment's consideration was all it took; I knew what had to be done.

  I needed to take hold of that angelic blade and get it back to Kanta.

  This mythical weapon was made for killing creatures like me. Just looking at it was enough to bring me to my knees. If I could somehow get over there and take hold of it, I felt ninety-nine percent sure that it would kill me on the spot.

  Was killing Agamemnon worth it? If I grabbed that sword, I could possibly end this fight and help kill the necromancer. But that would be it for me. Curtains.

  It was a snap judgement on my part.

  I used what little strength I had to lurch upward. I dug my one good leg into the floor and threw myself forward, over the heaps of dead zombies, and towards the hilt of the saber. As I did so, my wounds were torn open afresh. Gore spilled from my mouth and throat, and my entrails dragged behind me. I landed with a wet thud upon a number of corpses, and then clawed my way over them. It was from this cold pile of dead zombies that I loosed the sword. Like King Arthur yanking Excalibur out of the rock, I reached out, wrapped my fingers around it, and--

  If I had been able to make a sound at that moment, my screams would have been heard over the cacophony.

  What I felt at that moment was pain beyond pain. I lifted the sword but was instantly rendered blind by the light that came off of it, and as I rolled towards Kanta, the pain shooting through my arm temporarily snuffed out all sensation.

  The end of the line. Next stop, Fire and Brimstone Avenue. Pain eclipsed everything, and I had what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience. Probably, my soul was being torn from my body.

  What occurred next, for the longest time, seemed like a hallucination to me. I felt someone's hand on top of mine, wrapped around the saber's leather hilt. Hovering just over the scene, I watched as Kanta took hold of the sword. It was her hand I was feeling. There was another hand on the hilt, too.

  The demon's.

  I was floating above the scene like a cloud of smoke, looking down at Kanta and the hideous monstrosity, Gadreel, wielding the sword in unison. I could feel the sword in my hand even as I hovered there.

  And then, all at once, the three of us gave a solid thrust.

  FORTY-FOUR

  With the Archangel Saber wedged deep into his gut, Agamemnon stopped in his tracks. Massive and muscled though his frame was, he was suddenly enfeebled, barely able to remain standing. The room was completely silent. Joe, Percy and Kubo stood in the corner, watching the titan fall with wide eyes. Germaine wandered over and joined them.

  Letting go of the sword and feeling a few drops of the necromancer's blood strike me in the face from above, I found myself back in my physical body. I was completely shot, drained, and at that moment it didn't feel like I'd ever manage a recovery. Even demons had limits, and it seemed to me that I'd pushed so far past them with my little stunt that our death was imminent. It didn't matter; standing there and watching the life flicker in Agamemnon's eyes was worth it.

  The necromancer groaned, taking a few steps back. His horde had fallen still, silent, as if they too had been run through by the angelic blade. Kanta rolled out from underneath him and savagely ripped the sword from his abdomen, strewing his entrails across the floor in the process.

  The job was done.

  Crisis averted.

  The necromancer was dead and we wouldn't have to worry about the war he'd planned on waging. Soon, when he'd drawn his last breath, all of his minions would crumble and the world would be saved. Or so the narrative had gone up to this point.

  Make no mistake: Agamemnon did die. He took his time with it, wincing and falling to one knee. The scythe he'd so proudly carried fell from his hand and quickly disintegrated into a fine, black powder. The zombies in the room followed suit, till it was just Agamemnon kneeling before us, grimacing in his death throes.

  Even in death, however, the necromancer retained his brutality. While bleeding out in the hotel lobby, Agamemnon looked at each of us in turn. His eyes were a plain, ordinary brown now; no longer the terrifying yellow I was used to. His lips were twisted into a cruel sneer in the moments before the end, and he uttered what would become his final words. “Well,” he said, “was it worthwhile?” Agamemnon looked at me last, before finally falling onto his back and taking in a final, soupy breath. “I'll be seeing you in hell very soon now, demon. The building... is set to detonate any second now.”

  The necromancer died.

  And if we didn't hurry our asses up, we were going to be right behind him.

  ***

  Joe and Percy held me up and dragged me out of the lobby. We were going to make a run for it. My wounds were slowly healing now; after the Scythe of Thanatos had disintegrated, its curse had been lifted. Still, my demonic energies were at an all-time low after touching the angelic sword and I couldn't even summon the strength to walk on my own feet.

  Germaine hitched a ride on Kubo's sling while the Chief charged through the doors and led us to the nearest exit. Kanta was next in line, her body shaking for the exertion of the fight we'd just narrowly won. Percy and Joe did their best to keep up, shuttling me down the halls while I struggled to remain conscious. I wasn't sure how much time we had before the building was set to explode, or how we'd manage to get far enough away from the complex to avoid being crushed.

  I heard Kubo scream into his radio. “Tell her to do it now!”

  When next I opened my eyes, I got an eyeful of sunlight. We'd found an exit and were booking it down the street. The cop cars I remembered had moved since I'd last been outside; apparently the message had gotten through about the explosives and the first responders had gotten away. Good thing.

  A series of explosions like firecrackers tore into the building. I turned my glassy eyes upward and watched as the center towe
r began breaking apart from the top. Its uppermost levels wobbled and began to split as the supports were taken out by Agamemnon's explosives. Walls were reduced to rubble, and the entire structure began to tumble at incredible speed. The wreckage and dust were going to overcome us any second... Anyone within a few blocks was in serious danger, and I hoped that the evacuation had been thorough enough.

  But as I watched the destruction, I grew increasingly confused. I was out of it, sure, but the sight of the center tower and the center tower alone blowing up didn't make any sense to me. The pieces of the building were in free-fall and the other six skyscrapers in the complex should have been significantly damaged, at least. That wasn't what happened, though. In my stunned state, I squinted at the hotel building and watched as its destruction was neatly, unnaturally contained.

  It was like a big, invisible wall had been constructed around the exploding building. It dampened the sound of the blasts dramatically and kept the destruction contained to a very limited area. The physics of the explosion were all wrong. When Kubo stopped and looked up at the mess with a grin, I knew something was up.

  “H-how did that happen? Why is the whole RenCen not going to pieces? How did you contain that blast?” My voice was awfully hoarse; Gadreel had gotten around to fusing my windpipe back together and talking was still somewhat painful.

  Kubo palmed away a veil of sweat and laughed. “It was pure, merciful chance is all it was.”

  Joe and Percy lowered me to the sidewalk, where I managed to sit up on my own. “Bullshit. What'd you guys do?”

  Joe knelt down beside me. “Our original plan was to seal off the building. See, we wanted to keep Agamemnon and his monsters from escaping it if possible. We called in, uh, a specialist to help us with that part. The Chief had a few men inscribe seals in the four corners of that building to strengthen certain spells. Isabella took care of the rest.”