Army of Stone: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Fallen Angel Book 2)

by Leo Romero

  The Dark Suit aiming the Taser touched his earpiece. After a couple of seconds, he said, “Affirmative, sir,” and immediately holstered his weapon.

  I gave him an appreciative nod. “That’s better.” I glanced over at the other one, who was turning Bam Bam over in his hands. I snatched her off him and holstered her. The Dark Suit just stared at me. I straightened my leather jacket. “Take me to Smith!”

  “Follow us, sir,” The Dark Suit who’d been fondling Bam Bam said.

  “Sir,” I echoed. “That’s more like it. Treat your guests with respect.” They led me through the bland, sparsely decorated corridor with its off-white walls and smoke-gray carpet. I looked up and a CCTV camera in the corner was following our every move. I poked my tongue out at it as I went by. We passed by more office doors embossed with the legendary names ‘Ms. Jones’, ‘Mr. Johnson’, ‘Ms. Jackson,’ until we reached ‘Mr. Smith’. The Dark Suit gave the door two identical knocks with precisely one second between each. I don’t know if he received an answer, but he opened the door up anyway and held it for me to enter. I strode into Smith’s office. “Much obliged,” I said to the Dark Suit holding the door open. He didn’t reply, merely let go of the door and the mechanism to close it softly took over and edged it shut behind me.

  Smith’s office had been arranged by an anal-retentive robot. At least that’s how it looked. Everything was at right angles and spaced apart with machine-like precision. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere on anything. The desk in the center of the room was like a world unto itself, faux paneled pine and black metal. Sitting behind it was Mr. Smith. At least I thought it was Mr. Smith; everyone in this building all looked the same. Man, was that racist?

  “Ah, Mr. Stone, pleased to make your acquaintance once more,” Smith said, and I knew that it was the Smith. He rose from his chair like a puppet on strings and stepped up to me, a faint smile on his lips.

  “Mr. Smith. How’s it going?”

  “Splendid. No one has tried raising Hell recently, so we are pleased.”

  I gave Smith a sideways look. Did he just inject some humor into the conversation? Well, if he did, it came so out of the blue I forgot to laugh. I hoped he didn’t take offense.

  “So how are your experiments going with the Armor of Agony?” I asked him.

  He interlocked his fingers. “That’s classified information I’m afraid, Mr. Stone. But, what I can divulge is that deep testing is about to commence.”

  My top lip curled up in revulsion. “Yeah, with all due respect, I hope you fail.”

  “Your concern is understandable, Mr. Stone, but ask yourself this: would you rather one of the Seven Princes of Hell had the armor or us?”

  “As bad as each other as far as I’m concerned. Humanity is screwed either way.”

  “Come now, Mr. Stone. We have no intention to ‘screw’ anyone. We are merely fascinated with the advancement of technology.”

  “Whatever. Right now, I’m more concerned about gargoyles taking out my people than you guys with your weapons systems.”

  Smith flinched back in surprise. “Gargoyles?”

  “Yeah. You got yourself a classic gargoyle infestation all over the rooftops of the Loop.”

  “Well, this is news to me.”

  “It was news to me as well until about two hours ago when I got chased through the sky by a bunch of ’em while riding a flying horse.”

  Smith’s mouth popped open and he just gazed at me with a blank stare.

  I flipped a hand on the air. “Doesn’t matter. Everything I say these days sounds batshit. Just believe me when I say there are gargoyles all over the roofs. They’re tough. And for some reason, they’re targeting the Angel Guild. They’ve wasted a bunch of us already. Almost killed me who knows how many times.”

  Smith rubbed his chin. “Hmm, and I take it you’ve a proposal of some kind.”

  “Well, yeah. I want you guys to take them down.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  I puffed my cheeks. “Nuke ’em.”

  Smith gave me a wry grin. “Mr. Stone, we cannot start dropping bombs on Chicago.”

  “Well, you must have some kind of discreet weapon that can blow up gargoyles without making too much mess.”

  “Do you know of such a weapon?”

  I shrugged. “Well, how about an RPG?”

  “Mr. Stone, this isn’t a video game. We cannot go around launching rocket propelled grenades around the Loop. It would cause an awful lot of damage that would incur surcharges from insurance companies, not to mention draw unwanted attention from the citizenry.”

  “Aren’t you the insurance companies?”

  “Yes and no. Executives and higher uppers yes, shareholders no. There is only so much we can do in this matter. A campaign of bombing, grenading, or torpedoing buildings in the Loop would not be in our interests.”

  “So what? Just leave the gargoyles up there to hang out?”

  Smith placed a hand over his black necktie. “Are they a threat to our operations? I believe not. If they were, we would indeed need to strategize a plan to thwart them, but as long as they do not interfere in our operations, they are free to roam. We prefer to refrain from becoming embroiled in any unnecessary entanglements.”

  “But they’re a pest.”

  “To you, maybe. But not to us.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “If you’re not going to help us take them down, could you at least help me find out where they’re coming from?”

  Smith gave me a reluctant nod. “I suppose I could sanction that seeing as you assisted us in acquiring the Armor of Agony. Come with me and we’ll scour our satellite images for any clues.”

  I ran my hands through my hair. That would have to do. Man, these guys really were uptight. They wouldn’t lift a finger unless the gargoyles were in some way a direct threat to their operations even though they were invading their space. It was like living with cockroaches and just accepting them as a part of life. Hmm, that actually made the Dark Suits seem like pacifist hippies. Weren’t they supposed to be the bad guys? Man, the Dark Suits confused the hell out of me. “All right, lead the way,” I said.

  We got back into the crazy elevator and went down to the tenth floor, which was the surveillance hub. We walked out of the elevator straight into Big Brother Shangri-La. Walls upon walls of TV screens flashed and flickered ahead of me, each one depicting a different aspect of the city. Some were showing offices, others displaying streets, even people’s homes.

  I gazed at the gaudy ensemble ahead of me in disgust. “Man, you lot are just a bunch of peeping Toms,” I said, my eyes falling on the Dark Suits sitting ahead of the screens, studying them.

  “Come along, Mr. Stone,” Smith said with a labored sigh and headed toward the end of the room.

  I followed up, moving past more screens, printers printing out endless sheets of information, computers blinking faster than an eye with a fly caught in it. The whole room whirred and hummed with electricity. It glowed luminous under the multitude of screens. I got chills just staring at it all. The thought of these guys watching every move I made creeped the living crap outta me.

  We stopped by a door labeled, ‘Project 989C’. It opened up into a room that was like the secret bunker of a James Bond villain. Massive oblong screens that resembled the monoliths from 2001: A Space Odyssey stood to attention ahead of us. They were jacked into a giant computer that blinked slow and steady. I swear those lights were eyes and they were watching us. I stood there, my jaw slack as I took it all in. “What the hell is all this?”

  Smith rubbed his hands. “Mr. Stone. Meet Cassandra.”

  “Who?”

  Smith went over to the computer. “Cassandra,” he said, running a loving hand down her façade. Cassandra began to blink more rapidly. I shivered.

  “Hello, Mr. Smith,” Cassandra said in a voice that was way too soft, way too friendly. It was the voice of a serial killer attempting to lure in his victim. It was ho
rribly pleasant on my ears. Like being force-fed honey-laced cotton candy.

  “Cassandra, I’d like you to meet, Mr. Stone.”

  “Hello, Mr. Stone,” she said.

  “Uh, hi,” I replied.

  “Are you a member of the family?” she asked me. “Your name would suggest so.”

  I frowned. Was she trying to say that Mr. Stone sat inconspicuously alongside Mr. Smith and Ms. Johnson? “’Fraid not,” I said.

  “Oh, then do you have a first name?”

  “Gabriel. But you can call me Gabe. Or Stone. Or asshole, everyone else does.”

  “Why ever do they call you that?”

  “They all suck at poker.”

  “Poker? I’m quite partial to a game of five card stud. Maybe we could—”

  Smith cleared his throat, cutting her off. “Yes, Cassandra. We don’t have time right now for card games. Mr. Stone has a problem we’d like you to resolve.”

  “Of course. It is my prime objective to resolve problems. How can I help?”

  “I’d like you to scour your databanks of satellite images for any abnormal creatures flying over the Loop within the last thirty days.”

  “Done.”

  I flinched. “Already?”

  “Of course, see for yourself.”

  Those two monolith screens blinked on and various ultra hi-def aerial images of the Chicago Loop played out. The shots zoomed in and there they were. The gargoyles were either standing to attention like statues on the rooftops or taking off and landing. Anger brewed in my belly. “See?” I asked Smith.

  Smith gazed at the screen while rubbing his chin. “Hmm. Yes, I can see what you mean now regarding the infestation. Cassandra, where are they coming from?”

  Cassandra’s lights blinked and a couple of seconds later something familiar came into view. Before my mind could fully register, the screen went blank. I was about to lambaste Cassandra when images blinked into life all around me. I recoiled in surprise, my wide eyes scanning the whole room. The images on the screen were now surrounding us in perfect 3D quality. The Loop sprawled away into the distance. I gazed up; the ceiling was a star-glittered sky. Smith just stood there, gazing ahead of him like nothing had happened while I was all tripped out, having to hold my hands out to the sides to steady myself. It was like we’d suddenly gone into the screen. I turned to my right and was face to face with a gargoyle, his contorted face leering down at me.

  I threw out an instinctive punch. My fist cut right through the gargoyle and I realized it was just an image. He couldn’t hurt me and I couldn’t hurt him.

  “Easy, Mr. Stone. This is just a projection of all the images Cassandra has at her disposal.”

  My heart calmed and I took in my new surroundings. We were standing on a rooftop. A familiar rooftop. Gargoyles were dotted around, loitering like alley cats. Shivers tingled up and down my spine just staring at them. The ground beneath my feet flared red and it caught my attention. My eyes ran along the edges of a pentagon-shaped red glow and horror began to swirl in my mind. The glowing pentagon flashed white as a gargoyle emerged from its center like a phoenix rising from ashes. He bolted up into the sky and the light from the pentagon dulled, the concrete of the rooftop returning. The outer edges of the pentagon remained as black scorch marks. The new gargoyle landed back down on the concrete and stood tall. He gazed about him, taking in his new surroundings, the new world he found itself in. He met my stare. Some kind of weird psychic bond formed between us and he stared right at me as if he could see me. His brow furrowed and he approached me, his feet stomping over the rooftop. We held our gaze as if connected by glue. He stood just ahead of me, gazing down at me. I stared up at him like a boxer facing off before going twelve rounds. The gargoyle’s tongue darted out of his mouth and lapped at his cheeks, right as a grin emerged on his face. And then he laughed. His shoulders jigged up and down as he cackled, his lips spread in a joyous grin, his red eyes flashing with elation.

  A tremble shot up my legs from my feet. In seconds, my legs were full on shaking. My throat went dry, but I kept my stare on that beast. I wouldn’t let him psyche me. “I’ll beat you,” I said to him through clenched teeth, my hand curling up into a fist by my trembling thigh. The gargoyle’s eyes narrowed and his grin melted into a scowl of hate. He took off, shooting into the air like a rocket and swooping away into the distance, no doubt on the hunt for angel meat. I watched him go, my chest heaving, my heart pounding, anger suffusing me. Once he was gone, the surrounding image went into a time-lapse where events played out at super speed. Every now and then the pentagon would flare red again and a gargoyle would emerge from inside it. Sometimes it was in quick succession, other times it took a while. There was no pattern to the gargoyles emerging. But they were coming to this world from somewhere.

  “It’s the portal Samuel and Beelzebub tried to open up,” I said, hardly believing what I was seeing.

  “But you stopped them before they could,” said Smith.

  I nodded. “Yeah. At least I thought I did.”

  “So it’s a portal to Hell,” Smith suggested.

  I shook my head as I watched another gargoyle emerge. “Can’t be. If it was Hell, the place would be overrun with more than just gargoyles, trust me.”

  “But isn’t that where Samuel and Beelzebub intended for the portal to lead to?”

  “Yeah, but we stopped the ceremony. That portal was kind of opening, but then it shut. The Dark Bearer wasn’t sacrificed, so I don’t know what’s going on here.”

  “Looks like you’ll have to find out,” said Smith. “This new information changes things. We cannot have a mystery portal on our rooftop leading to who knows where. And seeing as how you’re partly responsible for opening it, I’d suggest you find out how to close it and do it quickly.”

  I grumbled to myself. I turned my face up toward the ceiling. I gulped. They were up there. Coming out of that portal that led to wherever. “I’ve seen enough,” I said and rubbed my tired eyes.

  “That’s enough, Cassandra,” said Smith. Cassandra shut down the image and we returned to the room we’d entered.

  “Will you need anything else?” Cassandra asked in her creepy, soft voice.

  “That’ll be all, Cassandra,” Smith said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Smith. Asshole, would you care for that game of poker now, if you aren’t too pushed for time? I quite like playing cards and I have all manner of card games installed on my hard drive.”

  I exhaled. “Some other time, Cassie.”

  “Oh, that is a shame. I don’t have anyone to play with and you sound like a worthy challenge.”

  “Cassandra,” Smith said in a stern, fatherly tone. “Mr. Stone has urgent matters to attend to that are beyond games of cards.”

  “I understand,” Cassandra said in a glum voice.

  “One day we’ll play,” I reassured Cassandra as Smith went and opened the door to the room. “When I’ve got less on my plate.”

  “Oh goody! I look forward to it. Bye, Asshole!”

  “See ya, Cassie.” Cassie? More like Casio. “Who programmed that thing?” I asked Smith once we were outside, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder.

  “That thing programmed itself. It is sentient.”

  “I think it needs an irony upgrade.”

  “It was designed to be analytical, not humorous, Mr. Stone.”

  “And that’s why computers suck at poker. Hey, maybe I should’ve taken it on. I could take it to the cleaners, make some extra dough while I’m here.”

  “Another time, Mr. Stone. I certainly don’t want you taking advantage of one of our most intelligent assets.”

  “Whatever. Thanks for your help, Smith.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Stone. I’ll be waiting eagerly for an update on the closure of the portal. Take care.” He gave me a crooked smile before twirling away and walking off. A shiver crawled up my spine. I didn’t like dealing with the Dark Suits and now they were on my case. I really nee
ded to get that portal closed before more gargoyles came through it or Mr. Smith tasered my ass to death. But I was clueless about it. What I needed was someone who knew about that kind of stuff. Someone who knew where that portal led and how to close it back up again. Someone who was an expert in the occult and all things dark side. There was only one thing for it. I nodded my head in grim understanding.

  I needed to find one of the Crazy Four.

  Chapter 13

  Not being a practitioner of the dark arts, I wasn’t privy to the location of any of the Crazy Four. They were shrouded in mystery. The only verified masters of the dark arts. By all accounts, they could literally do anything, perform any spell and indulge in any kind of magic on the dark end of the spectrum. If the rumors were to be believed, they could probably raise Hell itself while eating breakfast. But they were notoriously secretive. And that would make them harder to find than rocking horse crap.

  As a half-angel, my options were limited. Although it would benefit the Angel Guild to know everything about the Crazy Four, the Crazy Four didn’t want the Angel Guild to know about them. What I did have though was a little bald guy who was a master necromancer wannabe. Zane. Man, my luck just gets worse and worse.

  I went back to the Guild to check on things, make sure no one else had got themselves killed while I was away. Luckily, there’d been no more sightings of any gargoyles. I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the club area. Despondency and dejection greeted me.

  I trudged to the bar. Jerome was waiting there as usual. “Any news?” he asked.

  I told him what I discovered at Dark Suits HQ and asked if he had any idea where the gargoyles might be coming from. He shook his head. I then told him about my plan to seek out one of the Crazy Four.

  He flinched in shock. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gabriel.”