A Dose of Brimstone: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Van Helsing Organization Book 2)
Page 9
“Hey,” I exclaimed.
She glanced back at me with a death glare. Deep shadows lay in a valley under her swollen eyelids and her skin had taken on a sallow quality that was visible even in this dim light. She exited to the fourth floor and slammed the door shut behind her. I took the rest of the stairs two at a time and caught up with her in the small hall near our makeshift locker rooms.
“What’s with you?” I asked.
“Nothing. I swear, you are so damn nosy.” She threw her hands in the air.
I crossed my arms. “You look like hell. When was the last time you slept?”
She snorted and turned to the locker room. “I don’t need a vacation like you did. I have a demon to find.”
“And not sleeping has gotten you closer? Did you find Cambione, and I just wasn’t informed?” I looked around and spread my hands wide.
She scowled. “Look. If you have any news, let me know. Otherwise, fuck off. I’m fine.”
With that, she shut the locker room door in my face.
My phone in my pocket vibrated and started playing “Wandering Stars” by Portishead. I sighed and pulled it out. Lucy’s name flashed on the little screen.
“Please tell me you were successful.” I said.
“Not exactly.” Her voice crackled over the phone.
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“I think the drug is interfering with the dowsing.”
“You couldn’t find anything.”
“No, it just keeps moving, and it takes forever find a location.”
“We’re going to have wait longer.”
“No, the last location I managed to get was in Queens, but she seems to be on the move again.”
“It’s worth looking into. Give me the address.”
I fumbled in my jacket for a pen and piece of paper as my heart raced in my throat. This wasn’t what I was expecting, but at least it was a lead. There might be demons for me to kill even if the lamia wasn’t there. I wrote down the address, hung up with Lucy, and stepped into the locker room. Marge glared at me with her shirt half over her head, looking more laughable than intimidating.
“Looks like you’ll be earning that paycheck. We need to find Esais,” I said.
“Cambione?”
“I doubt it.”
She scowled and crossed her arms. “Then why should I care?”
“Because you’ll enjoy it better than the punching bag.” I sent my thought out to Esais. “Where are you?”
“In Adrian’s office. Come here, I want you to meet someone,” he sent back.
“I have to talk to you anyway.” I looked to Marge. “Come on. The faster we get this done, the faster we get out of here.”
Adrian’s office had become crowded. He still sat at his desk with a sour smile on his face while Esais stood on the opposite of the desk with his back to me. Beside him stood a young man with slender shoulders and dark blue hair that brushed the bottom of his neck. Tres leaned against the wall near the door with his cell phone in his hand.
Esais turned around and smiled at me. “Gabby, Marge. I’d like you to meet our newest member. This is Viktor.”
The boy turned around and nodded at me with a smile.
“Hello,” he said in a light Southern American accent.
I took his hand in mine. “Gabriella Di Luca. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Marge looked him up and down. “New blood, huh. He doesn’t look like much. How many monsters has he killed?”
Viktor’s smile disappeared, and he scratched the back of his head. “I haven’t killed anything, actually.”
“So, why are you here?” Adrian looked to Esais. “Please tell me this isn’t some sort of relationship whim.”
Esais glared at Adrian. Viktor’s face turned a deep red, and he cleared his throat, looking at the ground. There was a moment of silence where the whir of Adrian’s laptop was the only thing heard.
Marge let out a choking laugh.
“Seriously? I should have guessed.” She yanked her thumb behind her at Tres. “I would have thought the pretty boy, but he chases too many girls.”
“Jealous?” Tres asked.
“Nope.”
Esais turned his glare on Marge and Tres before returning to Adrian. “No, this is not because we’re involved. Viktor has a gift that has drawn attention. He wants to know how to defend himself.”
“Take a Karate class,” Marge said.
“Not helpful,” I said, turning to Viktor. “But she has a point. This is a life thing, not a job, or a hobby, and it will put you in more danger. If all you want is to protect yourself, we can give you basic tips.”
He shook his head. “Oh, I want more than that, honey. Esais says I’ve been gifted, and I want to use it to help others.”
“What kind of gift are you talking about?” Tres asked.
“It’s easier to show,” Viktor said.
He scanned the room until his gaze landed on a stack of plastic compact discs on the table and his brow furrowed. The discs rattled, shook, and lifted into the air. They circled around the room, making a rainbow pattern on the walls as they caught the light. Tres gasped. Adrian gripped the edge of his desk, and his smile disappeared. Esais crossed his arms and grinned.
“Damn, so he’s another emissary freak, huh?” Marge said.
“Not exactly,” I said. “He’s a nephilim.”
“A what?” Adrian asked in a cold voice.
“Like the biblical half angels?” Esais asked.
“Sort of. That’s where they got their name, because I think some of the first wore born from angels.” I tried to think of a way to explain. “You all know of Greco Roman mythology, correct?”
We looked at Marge.
She glared at all of us. “What? I’m not stupid. I know. What do they have to do with this?”
“The emissaries would be the avatars of gods while the Nephilim would be the children of those avatars, like Hercules,” I said. “I don’t really know the extent of their powers, though.”
“So, what else can you do?” Tres asked. “Besides parlor tricks?”
Viktor’s brow furrowed again, and Tres rose in the air. His eyes widened and a muffled curse left his lips. His body was frozen with hands clutching his phone and elbows close to his sides. Viktor smirked and stood with his arms crossed as he surveyed his work. Tres lowered back to the ground gently.
“All right,” I said. “But he still needs to be trained.”
“I’ve already started on lore.” Esais looked at Marge and me. “But I want the two of you to handle his combat training.”
“We’re busy,” Marge said. “We have a demon to catch.”
“Or four,” I said. I updated them on my conversation with Lucy.
“So, the lamia’s not there,” Tres said. “Seems like a waste, but hey, have fun. Is this over? I have a date.”
“Cancel it,” Esais said. “You’re going with Gabby and Marge.”
Tres scowled. “Why can’t Adrian go? Or you and the new guy?”
“I’m working,” Adrian said. “Something you really need to learn.”
“And I need to train Viktor. That leaves you.” Esais crossed his arms. “You’ll have to play later.”
Tres’s shoulders slumped, and he muttered to himself. “Fine.”
“Be ready in fifteen minutes,” I said. “Marge, you’re driving.”
Tres snorted. “We’re going to die before we get there.”
Chapter 15
“This is starting to become a pattern,” I said as I stared up at the abandoned building in front of us.
“I guess they figured that if it works, why do anything different?” Marge said.
The address Lucy had given me belonged to a dilapidated brownstone, squished in between several others. A metal fence surrounded the porch of the first floor, though the gate lay on the ground. Graffiti covered any available space on the wall, including the boards that covered the windows. A set of ricke
ty steps led up to the second story, green metal balcony, also covered in graffiti.
Tres pointed to the front door on the first floor and the boards that lay scattered around it. “Looks like someone has been here.”
“Let’s pay a visit,” I said.
“I’ll check around back,” Marge said.
“We’ll wait for your signal.” I touched the tiny bud in my ear. “Can you hear us?”
“Every word, unfortunately,” Adrian said. “If there’s any trouble, we’ll swoop in and save you again.”
I snorted. “I didn’t need saving. We needed Tres more than you, and since he’s with us, we’ll be fine.”
There was a muffled crashing of wood from inside and Marge’s voice echoed in the house and my ear. “All right, you bitches, it’s time to pay up.”
I sighed. “That’s wasn’t exactly what I meant when I said signal.”
Tres chuckled. “But it’s definitely hers.”
I flung the front door open, pulled out a flashlight, and moved in with my sword ready. The front room held only a threadbare, brown couch and a coffee table with the finish worn away in multiple places. I kicked aside a pile of trash and moved to the hallway. Marge rushed at me and stopped short a few feet.
“Oh, just you.” Her voice held a note of disappointment.
“Nothing?” I asked.
“Not up here,” she said.
“There’s a door,” Tres called from the living room.
I paused with my hand on the door. “They already know we’re here. So be ready.”
The door swung inward and revealed a set of concrete steps. A wall at the base of the stairs and the rail blocked any view of the basement, but a dim light beckoned from below.
My footsteps made no sound as I moved down the stairs. A long table was pressed against the wall opposite the stairs lit by a small lamp. Tubes and beakers of a variety of sizes sat in stands on the table filled with dark liquids, and fire heated a Bunsen burner in the middle, emanating a sickly sweet smell. A figure slumped in a chair in the corner of the room.
I moved to where I could see the darkened area under the stairs and shone my light. The beam caught the flash of a brown arm. Tres gave a shout from upstairs, and there was a loud thump.
I shone the light under the stairs again. Marge and Tres could handle whatever they had upstairs, and I sure as hell wasn’t turning my back on whatever was down here. The light caught the creature full on this time, reflecting her orange eyes.
She was short and stocky with most of her muscles in her legs. Tufts of fur sprouted all over her body, but the most prominent was a tan mane around her face and head. The cat demon snarled at me, flashing her pointed fangs, and pounced. I flung myself to the side, and she went flying into the table with a crash.
I dashed closer and slashed her across her back with my sundang. She yowled as her dirty white t-shirt became soaked with blood. She spun, grabbed a stool from under the table, and slammed it into me. I staggered to the side and my hip slammed into the side of the table. Pain shot through it and raced through my upper leg. That would leave a bruise.
As the demon swiped her claws at me, I ducked and slashed my sword across her stomach. She grabbed the blade, yanked it from my hand, and flung it across the room. I ducked to the side to avoid the swiping claws of her other hand, grabbed a glass beaker from the table, and smashed it into her face. Her face sizzled and popped, and she covered her face with a yowl.
I leapt for my sword and came up in a roll, holding it. The cat demon removed her hands from her face to reveal burnt fur and melted red flesh. She scanned the room with her ruined eyes. A loud series of thumps filled the room followed by a crash behind me as something heavy hit the bottom of the stairs. It sounded too hard to be human, or so I hoped. The cat demon growled and leapt that direction, coming to land beside the stairs with her nose twitching in a sniff.
Marge raced down the stairs, with the attention focused on the small stone creature at the base. I tackled my demon and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She reared up, trying to throw me off, but I held on. I ran my blade across her throat. She gave a choking mewl and staggered backward as blood poured from the wound. I tossed her body to the side and turned my attention to Marge and her adversary.
The stone demon rolled off of the stairs and stood up. It looked as if a man had been squished to the size of a child, but it had kept its width. It leveled its gaze at Marge and she froze with her entire body stiffening and her joints locking.
I came up behind it and slashed my blade along its neck. Metal grated against stone to no avail. That was fruitless. The stone demon turned my direction, and I averted my eyes. It gave an annoyed rumble, like grinding stone, and slammed its fist into my solar plexus. The air gushed out of me, and I clutched my stomach, backing up. Tres raced down the stairs, past Marge’s paralyzed form, and laid his hand on the demon’s back.
“Let’s see if you still bleed,” he said.
His eyes squinted for a moment. The sound of cracking stone filled the room, and blood seeped from around Tres’s hand. The creature spread out its arms and spun. Tres flew back into the stairs, knocking Marge over in the process. I scanned the room. There had be something to bash this abomination to death. My gaze fell on a fire extinguisher near the table. I dropped my sword and grabbed it. Tres got to his feet as the squat demon waddled closer to him. He held his right hand out with his fingers spread wide.
I slammed the fire extinguisher into the crevice of the stone demon’s back. The crack widened, causing more blood to gush from the wound. It streamed down its back and stained the gray stone a dark red. The demon swung its arm at me, but I side-stepped it and bashed it again with the metal canister. It dropped to its knees, but I didn’t stop. I kept slamming the extinguisher into it until the demon stilled. I stood over my fallen enemies, panting, and glanced over at Tres.
“Remind me never to make you mad,” he said.
“This isn’t angry,” I said and glanced at Marge. “How about her?”
He kneeled over her and started inspecting her. “Her joints appeared to have stiffened. Interesting effect.”
“That particular kind likes to paralyze its victims and sexually assault them,” I said. “Though I didn’t know its physical form would turn out to be actual stone.”
“So, you’ve seen these things before?” Tres asked.
I pointed to the stone remains. “This was a Trauco. The other”—I pointed to the cat demon—“was a Bajang. They’re both less powerful kinds from the Throne of Lust.”
“More from Lust,” Adrian said in my ear. “I wonder what this purpose is for summoning this many.”
“She always wanted power,” I said. “I guess this gives her an advantage over the others.”
“She?”
“The ruler. Naamah.”
“So what were they doing there?” Adrian asked.
I limped to a crate by the table and opened it as Tres continued working on Marge. Bags filled with a yellowish power lay stacked on one another. I picked up my flashlight from where I had dropped in during the fight and walked towards the slumped figure in the corner. A black slick liquid covered the figure from head to toe, shining a slight rainbow reflection in the light my flashlight.
An orang. Another demon from Lust. His head rested on his chest and his arms hung on the arm rests. A plastic tube came from one of the limp arms and was attached to an I.V. bag hanging from a metal stand. Blackish red liquid filled the bag. I reached forward and clamped my hand on the wrist. Nothing. I turned back to the table and scanned the contents of the still intact beakers. The same liquid filled several of them. I turned the flashlight back on the man, and a sick feeling rose in my stomach.
“They were making Blasphemy,” I said. “And they were using demon blood to do it.”
Chapter 16
Marge jammed her foot into Victor’s knee and sent him to the ground for the third time. She hopped back with a satisfied smirk and b
rought her fists up. Esais covered his face with his hand and gave a loud sigh. I shook my head from my position beside Esais on the bench.
“Watch your left side,” I said.
They’d been at this for almost an hour. Viktor was panting, and sweat poured from his face. He hadn’t called for a break though. Every time Marge knocked him flat, he just got back up and took the position I’d taught him. He picked things up quickly for someone with not a lot of training.
“Your mind is jumbled,” Esais said.
I glanced at him. “Are you looking places you’re not supposed to?”
“Not on purpose. You’re being loud.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, debating on where to start. “John says he gave the remaining Menrazine he had back to me when we were in Texas.”
“But you are having trouble believing him?”
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I don’t know. I was going mad there. It could have happened. And if it did, well . . .”
“You think this is your fault.”
“Isn’t it? Either way, I let that drug leave Texas. Now we have God knows how many demons in the city and who knows where else Brimstone could be.”
He sighed. “You shouldn’t lay the blame at your feet alone.”
“Who else? You, Marge? No one else put their trust in John.”
“But you needed to find out what we were dealing with. Did you have any other options?’
“None that wouldn’t take weeks.”
He gave me a soft punch in the arm. “Stop wallowing. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Make damn sure that this doesn’t get out.”
He became very still, and his voice softened. “That may take great sacrifice. Are you willing?”