God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords

by John Conroe

  More drones dropped from my shooting, but the sky darkened as others kept coming. Bullets hit the wall around me as I made contact and started running down the side of the building. A big rust and green colored dumpster was Grim’s destination, a temporary shelter from the bullet storm. A burning stream of pain across one calf told me the bullets were DU and that I wasn’t dodging quite fast enough. Drone fire hit the metal side of the dumpster as I ducked behind it. The bullets punched right through but stopped in the piles of stinking garbage while I braced my feet, Posted my body, and heaved on the entire dumpster with both arms and all of my aura. My shelter left the ground with a groan of steel, flying twenty feet into the air and into a cloud of sleek black drones. A few evaded the multi-ton missile, but a goodly number met their fate in the white and black plastic bags of society’s cast-offs.

  I was around the corner and moving fast when I heard the dumpster land in an awful crash that had people turning to look and windows opening. The short break let me reload both guns. Just in time, too, as I immediately had to trim the drone flock down by four more as I rounded the front of a small corner bistro. I was moving so fast that the napkins flew from the handful of outside tables, the diners not sure what had passed them. Around another corner, then another, turning into a dead-end alley and racing up the side of a building to gain height and ambush the last nine drones from thirty feet up in a burst of gunfire. My feet touched down on the alley’s pavement as the last black mini-airship hit the ground in a smoking heap. For a second, the immediate area was quiet, the sounds of cars and people yelling coming from back out on the main streets.

  But it was just a moment of peace as I tucked the Glocks away. Then the pile of cardboard boxes in the closed end of the alley exploded outward as a metal something unfolded from under it like a twisted version of one of those Little Giant collapsible ladders, only this thing had guns and glowing red laser sights instead of metal rungs. Two more eruptions, one by the corner I had just passed and the other halfway down the alley, announced, in a whining shriek of overpowered servos, that the first robot was not alone.

  Five feet tall when fully unfolded, they had some kind of machine gun on each arm, likely in 5.56 mm, at least in Grim’s admittedly expert opinion, based on the sharp staccato report as they opened fire.

  The flying drones had been shooting pistol munitions, maybe 5.7mm x 28mm, which would have good ballistics with low recoil—perfect for a flying platform. But these rounds were decidedly more powerful and coming in six converging streams that included enough tracer rounds to make them look like the laser beams that sighted them.

  Military doctrine dictates that you attack into an ambush, and hand-to-hand combat with multiple opponents suggests that you concentrate on one attacker, using that one to block the rest. Grim Pulled a thick steel sewer cover from the center of the street, several hundred pounds that flew to my left hand and formed an immediate barrier between me and the slug storm that the first robot brought to bear on me. Captain America and his trademark shield were in no danger of being replaced by Captain Hoody and my Department of Sanitation bullet blocker, but it got the job done. Grim’s speed put us on top of the robot before it had fired more than twenty rounds into the steel shield. Then the two-foot steel disc was flying like a Frisbee at one of the other robots while my hands twisted the two hydraulic gun arms around so that the red tracer streams ripped into the remaining automaton. After that, it was a few micro-seconds of cleanup, by which I mean a mono-edged knife hands enough robotic body parts to render all three death machines inactive.

  Sirens, whose distant screams were getting louder, announced it was time to vacate the area, so I grabbed one broken drone and ran up and over the nearest building and down the other side. A slightly torn Macy’s shopping bag poking out of a garbage can got crammed over it the drone, covering enough that I could walk the remaining couple of blocks to the tower without drawing attention. Just a grubby, hoodie-wearing guy with a Macy’s bag strolling away from the place where police and fire trucks were converging. Nothing to see here, nothing at all.

  Chapter 4 - Declan

  I was acutely aware of how small the elevator was with a massive wolf next to me, pushing me closer to Stacia.

  “So how were finals?” she asked as the elevator ascended fifty floors.

  “Surprisingly stressful. The actual tests weren’t too bad, but it was the studying on top of the pile of papers we had to get done. I’m glad it’s over. Looking forward to whatever I’m going to be doing for you guys.”

  “Good. Let’s check in with either Lydia, or maybe Tanya. Chris is out but due back soon,” Stacia said. Her minute grimace at saying Tanya’s name told me all I needed to know about how that all stood. “Hey, that girl with the accent was pretty cute, don’t ya think?” she asked.

  “Why would it matter what I think?” I asked back, maybe a touch defensive.

  Her eyebrows went up. “Whoa, just saying. Summertime in the city and all that. You’re still single, right?”

  “Single, at least with humanoid types—kind of hooked up with an evil book, though,” I said, backing down my tone.

  “You seem to have it under control,” she said.

  “It’s a struggle. Constantly trying to trip me up,” I said. “Pretty sure it might be a deal breaker on the pickup scene.”

  She tilted her head and tucked her platinum hair behind one ear. “What does it do?”

  “At first, it just gave orders like it expected me to obey or something. If it had checked with Aunt Ash first, it could have saved itself a lot trouble,” I said.

  “Yeah, you don’t take orders real well,” she said, grinning.

  “At least not from evil books. You guys, yes. Fifty shades of grimoire, not so much. Anyway, it stopped doing that whole explode him and use this spell to wipe her mind sorta thing after a couple of weeks.”

  “Wait, it really has those… spells to wipe minds?” she asked.

  “Stacia, it’s got spells you wouldn’t believe, which is why I’m sometimes glad it’s locked inside me and not some other witch,” I said.

  “Right up until the super cute teen intern is checking you out, right?” she asked.

  I snorted. “Yeah, it’s a drag. But she wasn’t checking me out. I think she was disgusted with how quickly I shot down that showoff grad kid,” I said.

  “Nah, she was checking you out. Trust me. But back to the book of death. What else does it do?”

  “Oh, well, now it’s super agreeable. Offers helpful spells, tries not to suggest too many horrific murders, and makes observations that I will likely agree with,” I said.

  “Umm, I see. Sinister stuff,” she said, unable to keep from cracking a smile.

  “See, you’re already falling for it. It’s trying to worm its way into my confidence. Next, I start relying on it and suddenly it switches parts of a lust spell so that the Aussie girl doesn’t just get the hots for me but instead becomes a virtual slave, basically mind wiped or something,” I said.

  “Lust spell? Not love spell?” she questioned.

  “Yeah. Summertime in the city, remember? I’m not looking to co-author a book with a girl,” I said.

  “You guys are all the same,” she said, staring at me.

  “Look, it was an example. I would never do it. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even thought of it, but that’s the kind of thing Sorrow suggests. Hey Declan, cute girl there. Why not a little magical Spanish Fly spell and a night of horizontal Olympics? What’s the harm? See, that’s the dangerous part of it. The whole slippery slope thing,” I said.

  “Oh, wow. That is tricky,” she said, now looking a little worried.

  “Good. You understand why dating is out of the question for this warlock, right? I have to be like a monk or something,” I said.

  “Oh Declan, I didn’t realize it was like that,” she said.

  “No pity. I can do that on my own. What I need is people keeping an eye on my decision-making. Don’t let me sl
ip down that slope, okay?” I asked.

  She nodded, eyes solemn, and the elevator dinged. We were at the fiftieth floor.

  The door opened and Tanya was standing right in front of us, Lydia, Nika, and Arkady just behind her. She pushed forward, forcing us back into the elevator.

  “Chris is coming in. He’s been attacked,” Tanya said, blue eyes shifting toward black. The others followed and Arkady punched the button for the ground floor.

  “But he’s okay?” I asked.

  “Why do you say that?” Lydia asked. Tanya just looked at me in an uncomfortably predatory way.

  “Well, if he were really hurt or something, you all would have just knocked out a window and jumped down or run down the building or something, right?” I asked.

  Lydia pulled back like she was looking at me for the first time. “He is like a mini-Chris, but smarter,” she said, looking at Tanya, whose eyes bled back to full bright blue.

  “Yes, he’s okay. But something or someone attacked him and he’s approaching the building now,” Tanya said.

  “Did he call or something?” I asked.

  “They have a bond,” Nika supplied.

  “Oh, cool. Like a personal wavelength sorta thing?” I asked.

  “Actually, that’s as good a description as any,” Tanya said, smiling for the first time. It was a tight smile, though, and I shuddered a little, thinking I wouldn’t want to be the party who had attacked her boyfriend.

  “So who is mind-dead enough to attack God’s Warrior?” I asked.

  They all exchanged a glance. “We are still working that out,” Tanya said.

  “Wait. This isn’t the first attack?” I asked.

  “Holy cow, warlock. You are smarter than Chris,” Lydia said.

  “You know it’s not fair to take shots at him when he’s not here to defend himself?” I asked.

  “As if he could,” the little vampire responded. “But if you’re looking to fill in for him, be my guest.”

  “Wow, the ageless wisdom of the Darkkin race focused on berating one eighteen-year-old college kid. If only we could harness your powers for good instead of evil,” I said back.

  Lydia snapped around to stare at me. Stacia and Nika laughed and even Arkady coughed suspiciously.

  “I told you, Lydia, they bro-bonded in Burlington. You’re now outnumbered,” Tanya said.

  “They’ll need a dozen more,” Lydia muttered, then the elevator doors opened. Immediately, we were crossing the vast lobby floor, the faster vampires leaving me in the dust.

  A man entered the building, wearing a dark green sweatshirt with the hood up and grubby jeans, carrying a shopping bag.

  The guard at the desk started to stand up but the man brushed back his hood and smiled at the guards. “Just me, Andrew,” Chris said.

  “Yes sir. You alright, sir?” Andrew asked.

  “Yeah, fine, just dirty. Hey Joe,” he said to the other guard. I realized that he probably knew every guard and janitor and regular worker by his or her first name. He was the kind of guy you would find talking sports with a custodian or asking how one of his guard’s mothers was doing.

  Tanya was upon him before Joe could answer, but Chris hardly blinked when she appeared in front of him. Probably the bond thing they had going.

  “Hey zayka, look. I brought you a present,” he said with a smile, holding up the bag, which said Macy’s on it. He looked slightly tired but happy. Then he spotted me in the crew and his smile got bigger. “Hey Declan, you made it!”

  “I did. But how about you? Good fight?” I asked, taking a stab at the reason for his good mood. Tanya snorted lightly as she gave him a quick once over for injuries, but apparently found nothing.

  “Ya know, it wasn’t half bad. All robots and these drone things,” he said, pulling a sleek black flier from the bag.

  “DARPA attacked you?” I asked. They all turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question.

  “I recognize the design. We had a demonstration by a guy from DARPA at Spring Break. Same drone, only ours didn’t have the gun on it,” I said.

  ‘Well it makes sense that they were government designs, but I don’t think DARPA was driving them,” he said.

  “You’ve been investigating,” Tanya accused him.

  “Yeah, well there’s not a lot else for me to do. The demon stuff has all quieted down and you don’t need me for my razor-sharp business acumen, but these attacks on us have to stop. Anyway, I got a name and a bit of a backstory,” he said.

  “Attacks?” I asked.

  Tanya turned my way. “Somebody or something has declared war on us, but we haven’t figured out who or why. Everything from assets disappearing to leaked e-mails, to faked e-mails destroying negotiations, to all of us continually appearing on the no fly list, to an unlikely number of near death accidents. It’s what we mentioned in Vermont a couple of months ago. And now this.”

  “You know there’s something funky about your computers, don’t you?” I asked.

  Tanya glanced at Chris then turned back to me, her attention focused. “Explain?” she asked.

  “Well, when I got here, the computer at that desk froze up, but I could sense something in it. Then whatever it was jumped through Bluetooth or a wi-fi band to the waiting area where all the other interns were sitting, and it jacked their computers and phones. Then it left completely. I was going to ask if you’ve been working on some advanced software or something ‘cause that’s the feel it gave off.”

  “That’s what I found. It’s a NSA project that outgrew its masters and thinks we’re enemy number one,” Chris said. “Named Anvil.”

  Suddenly I could feel it again, but not at the desk. This time, I sensed it in the very walls and floors around us.

  “It’s back. In the building,” I said, trying to pinpoint it.

  “What can we do?” Lydia asked.

  “Well, I noticed earlier that it doesn’t like the protective wards I put on my phone. Maybe I could rune up the place,” I suggested.

  “Okay, we can try that. We’ll also have you talk to our chief IT guy, Chet. He has a whole crop of interns to help build security software against this thing,” Chris said. “We’ll want to protect our computers first.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of the eleva…” I started but was interrupted by a rushing train sound mixed with the screams of a dozen people, “-tors.”

  Chris and the vampires disappeared with a pop of displaced air, appearing by the bank of elevators. I stayed where I was, closing my eyes and pushing my senses deep into the stone and concrete of the building. The falling elevator was dropping from the fortieth floor and I could feel the safety brakes being deliberately held back by something.

  There was little time, but I had an idea, and Sorrow supplied a spell that would be much better than the hack I was going to attempt.

  The clan or circle of witches I was descended from specialized in borrowing energy that they have an affinity for from their environments. Most witches use energy gathered inside their own magical core. But the secret family recipe conserves personal energy and directly harnesses external energy. The most energetic thing in the building was the falling elevator itself. So I ruthlessly took its kinetic power, as much as I could grab as fast as I could grab it, and shoved it into the elevator shaft. Into the walls themselves, willing them to thicken and swell like a bee-stung hand. Sorrow’s spell made the conversion of kinetic energy to mass much smoother than I could have done by raw force of will alone.

  As power left the falling car, it slowed, at least a bit, and as the shaft walls ballooned inward, the sides of the elevator screeched the most God-awful squeal of tortured steel and stone, loud enough to temporarily block out the screams of the people inside.

  I shuddered a little at the damage I was doing to the elevator and its shaft, but when I opened my eyes, I found Stacia still with me, watching me with widened eyes.

  Chris had ripped open the doors to the shaft and, from the flashes of energy I c
ould see around him and Tanya, was preparing to do something drastic to catch the elevator. But it was slowing on its own and when it finally appeared in the open shaft, it came to a stop, almost totally wedged tight, with the bottom of the car still a foot above the lobby floor.

  Chris looked at the base, where the steel of the elevator was now jammed tight against the concrete of the suddenly much-smaller shaft and then glanced my way.

  He smiled and gave me a nod before yanking the car door open with casual strength. Eight or nine young people, who I recognized as part of the intern group, were quickly helped out of the car.

  “Joe, shut down all the elevators. Now,” Tanya ordered.

  “Ah, ma’am, somehow they already are,” he said.