“Really, must you manhandle me?”
Terry looked her in the eye, the serious, no bullshit expression on his face. “Tell me what I’m about to face, Armen.”
“Warrior demon,” she replied and yanked her arm from his grip. “A nasty one.” She brushed herself off and stood straight, albeit painfully. She really didn’t want to resort to using her cane again.
Before Terry could respond, the demon came to the front of the van, climbing onto the dash. It perched in the open windshield.
“Okay, that is something I’ve never seen before,” Terry said, staring at the creature.
“Not surprising.” Armen moved to his side. “They don’t appear much in this realm. It’s usually by accident. I don’t think this one was, though.”
It was small, perhaps about three or four feet in height, no eyes, and several sharp teeth. But the size of a demon didn’t really matter. They were all equally dangerous, especially when they had several sharp teeth and claws, much like this one did.
“Was that inside the victim?”
“Yes, and there isn’t much left of the victim. Do you have silver loaded in that gun?” Armen kept her eyes on the demon.
“Yes.” He raised his gun and aimed at the intended target. It snarled at him.
Someone screamed. Armen didn’t look away from the demon, but it switched its attention to the screaming woman near the elevators. It leapt forward.
“Shoot it!” Armen ducked out of Terry’s way, running parallel to the gunfire as it rang through the garage. Terry succeeded in taking out a car window, a light, and a tire as the demon sped toward its target, crawling over and under cars and along the wall sideways. Armen just hoped it didn’t decide to jump in her direction; she didn’t want to get inadvertently shot.
“Shit!” He fired once more and the demon dropped to the concrete right in front of the woman, who despite being petrified managed to continue screaming relentlessly. The demon writhed on the floor of the garage, hissing and cursing them both in hoarse whispers suitable only for Hell.
“I thought you never missed.”
“Shut up.”
Armen ran over to the demon and stomped on its head, which immediately burst into embers and ash. The woman continued to scream.
“Would you shut the hell up?”
The woman closed her mouth and stared at Armen wide-eyed, unblinking, and trembling violently. She asked, “Wha . . . what was . . . that thing?”
“A demon. What did it look like?”
“Armen, don’t be so cruel.” Terry walked over to them after retrieving his radio from the squad car. “Most people haven’t seen a demon.” He observed the woman briefly after watching the demon disintegrate. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I . . . I . . . think so,” she replied, her voice just as shaken as her body.
Terry grabbed his radio and called it in. When he finished, he looked at the woman with soft eyes. “I’m having someone come down to speak with you, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened again. “What . . . for?”
“Just a precaution, ma’am.” He held out his hand, pointing to his car. “Here, you can wait in my car. It’s safe in there.” He gently took her by the elbow and led her over to it. “Just wait here. Someone will be along shortly.” Once he closed the door, he returned to Armen, who crouched over the ashes. “Honestly, you need to learn some people skills.”
Armen huffed. “I don’t have time to cater to fragile people when there are demons running around looking for hosts.” She poked a finger into the ashes and lifted it to her tongue. “Ugh, you reek of Ash.” She raised her head to Terry. “This was the first of many.”
“Look, I get it, I really do,” he said calmly, “but you need to have more tact. That woman was scared to death and you snapped at her as her world just crumbled because a creature that’s not supposed to exist charged her.”
She dragged a hand over her face with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I’m focused on the bigger picture here because I don’t know what’s happening or why, and I’m afraid that it’s too big, that it might involve humanity, the whole of the planet, or maybe even the universe.”
Terry crouched beside her and touched her arm. “Am I not by your side right now, through this? Armen, I’m here. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on when shit goes down. I’m your partner in this.”
She quickly rose, pulling her arm from his grip. “More will come soon. I can’t be weak. Not now. Do you want a polite, tactful woman or a warrior? Because let me tell you, the warrior is the one you fucking need right now, even if she isn’t pleasant.”
He stood up and stared at her, and gave a short nod. “How soon?”
Armen saw the horror in his eyes before he returned to cop mode, that he saw the warrior angel she once was before him now, that cold-hearted bitch of a demon she’d never truly be rid of even with her flesh, and not the human woman he fell for. “It’s not Friday anymore, you know.”
“So? What’s that have to do with anything?” His words were cold, clipped, as though he’d shut down all emotion.
She grimaced. “It means we’re in for a long damn night, that’s what.” When he frowned, she sighed. She shouldn’t have to explain this to the son of a priest. “Saturday, the day before the Sabbath.” His frown remained, but comprehension started to seep in. “This is going to be a 24-hour rollercoaster ride to Hell.”
He stared at her a moment before finally saying, “Shit.”
“Ah, now you get it,” Armen said. “Welcome to the end of the world.”
“How many more demons are coming?”
“Don’t know.” She looked at the ashes again. “It depends on how many she already has, and how many she’s taken besides these last two.” She headed toward the back of the van.
“And the host thing?”
She clucked her tongue. How to explain that one? “The warriors . . . plant a seed in a human body—dead, fresh kill—and it produces more of them.”
Terry blinked at her before responding. “How in God’s name are we supposed to fight this?”
A patrol car pulled up behind the van as Armen rummaged through the mess. Bits of human flesh covered the inside of the van, and she had to pick them off to get to what she needed.
“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Terry, she knew, would be more concerned with keeping it out of the public eye in order to keep the public safe. Armen wasn’t sure that was entirely possible. If Ash wanted to make herself known to the world, she would, and if the End of Days lurked around the corner, there’d be no stopping those residing in Gehenna and all of the Underworld from coming into open view for all the world to see. She headed back over to the demon.
“Great,” was Terry’s reply as an officer approached. He took in the van’s condition, then his eyes moved to the woman sitting in the car with her face in her hands, and finally, his eyes fell on Armen and Terry.
“Detective Armstrong, Dr. Leza,” he said with a nod to each. “Are you in need of assistance?”
Terry nodded to his squad car. “Could you take that woman in for counseling?”
“You know the doc’s not in at this hour,” the officer replied.
“Call her in, Peterson,” Terry said. “This woman needs her attention immediately, and Dr. Whitewolf will know exactly how to treat her.”
“Whitewolf, huh?” Peterson’s eyes lingered on the pile of ash. “Another demon? Who was it this time?”
“Just a warrior.” Armen scooped a small sample of the ash into a vial she’d plucked from the van when he pulled up.
“Warrior for whom?”
Armen peered up at him, surprised. “If you’re asking that question, then you know damn well her name can’t be spoken aloud.”
Peterson nodded. “Give me the shorter version, if she has one.”
“Ash,” Armen replied.
“Wow, really?”
Armen nodded.
“Damn.”
She
pointed a finger at him. “How do you know that?”
Peterson shrugged. “Catholic school and college theology and anthropology classes.”
He might be of use to them if he knew about demons. “What else do you know?”
Peterson smiled. “Enough to possibly help, if you need it.”
“Do you know how to defeat her?” Terry asked.
Peterson frowned. “Perhaps. Let me think on it while I take this one in and call the doc.” He walked over to Terry’s squad car and opened the door. “Ma’am, if you’d come with me, please. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” The woman shakily climbed out of the car, and Peterson took her by the elbow. He turned back to Terry and Armen. “I’ll be right back. You want me to call someone to come for the van?”
“Yes, please,” Armen replied. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Peterson said, and waved. “Investigators should be here shortly to close off the scene.”
Terry turned to Armen and eyed the glass vial in her hand. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Study it, what did you think I was going to do with it?” She walked to her van once more to gather a few things.
He followed her. “Study it for what?”
“There’s got to be a better way to get rid of them. Exorcism and banishment just sends them away for a while, but won’t kill them. The scepter kills them, but we only have one scepter, and silver bullets only work on the lesser ones.” A sudden thought hit her and she bolted upright, turning to face him. “How many demon wranglers are there?”
“Several. They’re placed all over the world.”
Armen bit her lower lip in thought and stared off for a moment before she jerked from her trance and looked up at him. “Would you know if there’s been any activity with them lately?”
Terry shrugged. “I suppose I could ask.”
“Yeah, do that.” She pulled a duffle bag from the mess in the back of the van, opened it, sifted through, and pulled out a small satchel. She placed the vial inside the satchel, seated the satchel safely inside the bag, and closed the bag. Then she looked up at Terry again expectantly.
“Right now?” Terry looked at his watch.
“No, on Monday during normal business hours,” she replied, the sarcastic twang ringing through her words.
“Fine.” He pulled his phone from his belt.
Armen opened the trunk of his squad car and placed the duffle bag inside. She spotted the scepter hidden partially beneath a blanket. Smart man. But she wondered how they would get to it quickly if needed. It’d have to sit near them, one of them holding it, perhaps. Before closing the trunk, the twisted putrescent odor she’d always linked to demons before their arrival invaded her nostrils. She looked to Terry, whose nose wrinkled; he could smell it, too. Terry’s eyes widened with acknowledgment and shifted to meet hers. She gave a quick nod. He ended his phone call and walked over to her.
“No activity elsewhere. Guess we’re special.”
“Scepter or gun?”
He looked briefly into the trunk. “Gun. You’re probably better with that thing than I am.”
She reached down into the trunk. “I doubt that.” Something slithered through the garage. “Oh, that’s a big one.”
“Armen, I really don’t need your commentary. It’s not helping me.”
She chuckled. “Fine, it’s not a big one.”
“You are so not funny right now.” He drew his weapon, checked the magazine, refilled it, and slid it back into the Glock with a snap. “Do you have any idea how long this damn report is going to be?”
“A small novel?” She pulled out the scepter. “As I said earlier, it’s going to be a long night.”
The sound drew closer, coming from one of the upper levels. Armen listened carefully, distinguishing between the normal sounds of the city and those that were otherworldly. The sounds shifted in her ears and otherworldly became prominent with its beats and winds. A hot breeze blew across her flesh. She leaned closer to Terry.
“It’s not alone,” she whispered and thumbed the trigger on the scepter. Its blades swept out with a ring of metal scraping metal just as a car alarm went off on the level above them. A loud crash echoed, and Armen figured the demons had flipped the car over. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No shit.” Terry raised his gun.
Armen followed the ramp on the other side of the wall with her eyes, peering through the shrinking gap. Several feet appeared, running down in a stampede, shaking the entire concrete level. She heard Terry mutter something under his breath before he took aim and fired. A prayer, perhaps, which she thought wasn’t such a bad idea at the moment.
Father . . . .
An army of warrior demons rounded the corner. Terry took out several on the front line, but he would be out of bullets soon. Just as the thought occurred to Armen, she heard a click signaling he’d released the magazine. He reached for his utility belt and pulled another loaded magazine from it as the empty one fell from the gun, the plastic clacking against the concrete. The demons drew closer. He slid the magazine into place and drew the barrel back, firing once more at those nearest to them. Several of them moved around the squad car. Armen sliced through one with the scepter when it came from behind. It crumbled into ember and ash with a garbled scream that barely left its throat before that too disintegrated. She jumped to the opposite side of the car from Terry, blades cutting through the air with viciousness and speed. Her body responded almost as though it remembered her days as a warrior. The demons dwindled in number as Armen cut and sliced and decapitated, and Terry fired upon them one after another.
The air in the garage filled with ash, but it was the woman standing at the top of the ramp looking down at them with a grin upon her pale face that concerned Armen. Two small horns protruded from her forehead, framed by deep burgundy hair that flowed to her waist. A lightweight cloth barely covered her almost human body, rich with crimson blood. She stood poised in observation of the tableau before her. In a long sweep of her blades, Armen took out five more warrior demons before they could attack. That was the last of them, for now.
“Azel, you impress me,” the Red Queen said, a smile twisting the corner of her ruby lips. “Had I known it would be so easy for you, I would have brought forth Leviathan.”
“What do you want, Ash?”
Ash’s grin grew wider, revealing four fangs among the otherwise perfectly human white teeth. “You, my dear.”
“What the hell for?” Armen had long grown tired of this game.
Ash laughed, almost a giggle, but not quite. “We know He favors you; that He still loves you.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Absolutely everything, my dear.”
“Why are all of you after me?”
Ash raised one shoulder casually. “Why not?”
Armen frowned at the Red Queen, wondering what in the hell the endgame was. Demons were never forthright with their answers. “I’ll not be your prisoner in your war against Heaven.”
Ash threw her head back and uttered a short bark of laughter. “Who said anything about imprisoning you, dearest Azel? We, who shared the Darkness with you after your Fall, would never imprison you as He did us.”
Armen cleared her throat. “I think you placed yourself there, Ms. Lust.”
Ash pointed. “Pot, kettle.”
Armen growled. “Don’t you ever try that shit with me again.”
A witch’s cackle came from Ash’s throat. “I thought you should enjoy yourself with such a fine human specimen.” She eyed the muscle-bound cop next to Armen. “But, of course, if you do not care for him, he should make a wonderful playmate for me.” She winked at Terry.
“I don’t think so.” Terry held his aim on her.
Armen’s anger flared. “Don’t you dare touch him.”
Ash arched a fine-lined brow. “Is that jealousy I hear, dear Azel? My, you are one step closer to coming home to us, then.”
&nbs
p; “I will never go back there,” Armen spat.
“Oh, but you will not need to, Azel.” Flames lit her eyes. “Here, my pet shall help you bring it forth.” She gracefully waved her hand toward the ramp the warrior demons had come down.
“What are you—?” The garage shook again, but this time only four footsteps sounded. It was large, whatever it was. Armen’s mind raced to recall Ash’s pets. She had several: snakes, scorpions, spiders, felines, canines—all taken from Earth the first time she came to this plane and all larger than those residing on Earth because she had manipulated her pets to their larger size. One particular four-legged beast jumped into her mind and she shot a look at Terry.
“Cerberus,” they said in unison, the creature’s most common name. Armen didn’t have time to ask how he came to the same conclusion.
“Get in the car.” Terry ran past her to the driver’s side.
Armen thumbed the trigger on the scepter, and its blades promptly retracted. She threw a glare at Ash before climbing into the squad car. As Terry threw the car in reverse and backed up to pass the van, Armen saw Cerberus round the corner and stop next to Ash. The dog stood taller than the demon, whose height was close to a human’s. He lowered one of his three heads to Ash, who stroked his fur and whispered in his ear. A lip on each head curled in a snarl, and all three heads barked viciously. Ash gave Cerberus a command and stepped away, and he started after them. Terry turned the car around at the end of the ramp.
“Go, go, go,” Armen yelled, hitting the dash, and Terry slammed his foot on the gas pedal, sending her flying to the back of the seat. She snapped her seatbelt into place; this was going to be one hell of a ride.
Terry took a sharp turn. The rear end fishtailed into a parked SUV, setting off its alarm. He sped down the ramp and made another neck-snapping turn. Armen hoped the corners would slow the beast down. They drove past a car coming up the ramp, and Armen cursed herself for letting Terry lead them into the garage in the first place. She should have known better. Cerberus barreled into the car as it skidded to a stop, crushing the side of the vehicle with his weight. Screams from the tires and from the people in the other car echoed off the concrete walls and floor of the car park. Armen could only hope that the people inside were okay as Terry took the next sharp corner, heading to the third level.
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 19