To Beat the Devil (The Technomancer Novels Book 1)

by M. K. Gibson

  The shooting eventually stopped. Only the groans of the dying could be heard.

  “Enough!” Abraxas roared as the emergency lights came back up. Before the lights fried my vision, I switched back to normal mode. The scene was a bloodbath. Pieces of demons and human soldiers festooned the floor and the walls. Guts, entrails, and brain matter fell in wet coppery glops from the paintings and the murals. Bits of the formerly-breathing congealed in a massive pool in the center of the great hall.

  Amidst it all, Ricky was simply relaxing on a pile of corpses he had stacked into a makeshift throne. Odd, but he looked at home there. One leg was tossed causally over a corpse while he lit a cigar. “Hiya, Brax. Long time,” he said as he puffed his cheeks on the stogie.

  Abraxas said something in a demonic dialect I had never heard. It made Ricky smile. “Aww, you know better than that. Now, behave yourself, youngster,” Ricky said in playful but warning tone.

  “Outcast! We had a deal.” Abraxas snarled, but Ricky only waggled his finger in an unspoken “tsk-tsk” fashion. T moved in and the giant mech gripped Abraxas with each of his six arms and held him immobile. The high lord demon’s size and strength was matched by T’s power. The archduke was alone, his soldiers, lords and retainers all dead and splayed out across the great hall. The previous night, this hall had been a haven for drunken carnal and visceral activities. Now it was a tomb. Abraxas had been spared only to see he had no one left. No doubt Abraxas could have utilized his power reserve, but with his forces gone, he had no way of knowing how long that power would be needed.

  Playing the long game was a bitch.

  For a few fleeting moments, there was peace in the great hall of the citadel.

  The growl I heard behind me made me turn. I expected to see Vidar in all his bristly glory, but it was Vali instead. The blond god’s face was red, and the brows of his eyes were knit in a grimace of hate. He radiated a vibe that was a hundred levels past pissed.

  “Val, what’s up man?”

  “Him,” the archer said, pointing. I looked over my shoulder, following his line of sight.

  “Ricky? What about him?”

  “Is that the trickster’s name now? Won’t matter in a moment.” Vali raised and fired the semi-auto crossbow three times in the blink of an eye.

  I turned, following the path of the bolts. “No!” I yelled, as I snapped my head around only to immediately shield my eyes from the light from an intense burst of flame that came from Ricky’s waiting outstretched hand. The three bolts were incinerated before they touched him and only the charred remains of the shafts and steel tips remained on the floor before him.

  Instantly I grabbed his wrist and pulled the weapon away from him. “What the shit, man?”

  “Give me my weapon. The trickster has to die!”

  “Still mad, Vali? Kids.” Ricky shook his head, leaning forward. “You forget, I was also known for fire. Some would say my only friend.” Ricky reclined deeper into the corpses, puffing on his cigar. He didn’t take his gaze off Vali, who seethed with hate. Vali reached for his crossbow and I sidestepped him, keeping the weapon away.

  “That isn’t a trickster. That’s Ricky, my friend, and—in case you didn’t notice—the guy who just saved our asses!” I yelled at the god.

  Vidar had slipped behind me and took the weapon. I spun on him and he placed a strong firm hand on my shoulder. “Don’t,” was all he said. The look in his eyes conveyed volumes. Vidar took the weapon from me and gave it to his brother. Vali didn’t fire it again; perhaps he saw the folly in it from the last attempt.

  The air around us flowed inward again as Grimm released his dome shield. He all but collapsed and immediately clutched his broken wrist to his body again. He slowly limped to stand beside Ricky and stare at Vali. The room was quiet, as lines were clearly being drawn, and sides were being taken. The problem was, how could I make an informed decision when I didn’t know what the hell was going on?

  “Grimm, you stand with him?” Vali asked.

  Grimm nodded silently.

  “You know who he is, do you not?”

  Grimm lowered his grey eyes. “Perhaps better than you do,” he said solemnly. “I know who he is to you, and to your kind. But there is much more you do not know. How you know him is only an Aspect. And, right now, we need him.”

  “How can I trust him?” Vali asked.

  “You can’t.” Ricky said, puffing away on his cigar. “But you can trust him.” He pointed a thumb at Grimm. “Know this, young one—everything I have ever done was for betterment. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive.” Ricky’s tone was resolute. He had said all he was going to say on the matter. Vali stared at Ricky for a long moment while I exchanged uncertain glances with Grimm and Vidar.

  Vali looked as if he were going to say something, then just shook his head and walked away. Vidar joined him and the two brothers ensured their men were OK. I wanted to reach out and talk to him, but I figured it was best to let it lay for now. The adrenaline of battle was wearing off and the tone was low. Which was surprising since we had just survived a cadre of lethal shock troops and demons, a torture chamber, and an exterior ledge with a falling freaking wall. Speaking of, I needed to go and let Caitlin and the refugees know it was safe.

  Then I heard a scuffle.

  T and Abraxas were continuing their struggle. Abraxas ranted and raved but T only giggled like a giant kid and held the Archduke in a six-armed bear hug.

  “Ne, ne. You relax, giant demon asshole,” T’s electronic voice said over his speakers. “Otherwise, I fill you with enough amps to kill Topsy all over again. Razumiesh?” The archduke stopped squirming, but his remaining eye was far from calm.

  “I will destroy you all,” Abraxas said flatly. “I will flay the skin from your bones while you scream and beg for death. I will find everyone you have ever known or cared for and kill them all.”

  Ricky just snorted and laughed. He slapped his thigh in amusement as he continued to smoke the cigar. The room was beginning to fill with the acrid blue haze and stink of the stogie.

  Abraxas was serious, and that brought me to a sobering realization: If we left him alive, he would make good on his threats and kill us all. Well, maybe not Ricky, with his curious light and fire abilities. But Abraxas was a demon of great power and social status. I wasn’t really worried about Grimm, T, or me. But Vali and Vidar’s people. The people of Midheim had already survived one demon assault. How many more could they withstand?

  In the heat of battle, that was one thing, but to take a life in cold blood? Was I cold enough to do it now? My mind drifted to all the people I’d had to kill that night. I told myself that was for mercy. So if killing Abraxas so that others could live was what I had to do, so be it. That was what I would have to tell myself. For mercy.

  I drew my weapons and checked the barrels and the charges. “T, hold him still,” I said, my voice solemn. Grimm looked at me, his mouth open as if to say something to stop me. Then, he just shut it and nodded. His eyes told me he’d had the same realization I had. Vali still had his back turned dealing with his men, but Vidar gave me a nod. Ricky just smoked upon his corpse throne and acted like it was a regular day in New Golgotha. And the truth is, it was. Powers rose and fell like the tides. It was why the kingdoms and districts were not named after their demon masters. Few maintained power long enough.

  T complied with my request, restraining the demon and angling slightly aside. I just nodded in the affirmative when the angle was correct.

  “Abraxas, I know you have some soul power still saved up. I don’t know how long you’ve been stealing it, but I bet you were topped off, if your kind even has a limit on how much they can hold. I know you can create a shield and do all kinds of amazing things with it. But here is what’s going to happen. I am going to fire this weapon as many times as it takes until you are dead.” Abraxas was about to start another rant, but I cut him off.

  “SHUT. UP. You got sloppy. You were the king of your realm
and you thought you were untouchable. Well, you made a mistake, and now it will cost you.”

  “And what was that?” the demon snarled while being held by T’s unforgiving mechanical limbs.

  “Fucking with me and mine.” I aimed the weapon at his head.

  “This is treason! I am a noble and you are a fucking peasant! Even if you manage to kill me, Pazuzu will…”

  “Pazuzu won’t do shit,” Ricky interjected. I thought that to be a bold claim, after what Pazuzu had done to Grimm and me. After a moment I realized then the purpose behind Ricky’s giant fat cigar. Other than being deliciously obnoxious, the smoke would give away Pazuzu’s position, even if he were invisible.

  Ricky had managed to slaughter the entire royal court. Even with their advanced abilities channeled to them from Abraxas, they could not stop Ricky. I had to wonder a couple of things. First, what hope did Pazuzu have? And second, just what the hell was Ricky? An ancient god? An angel? Where did he get the power to manifest fire and light? How did he teleport here? It would appear that my old friend had kept more than a few secrets from me in the last 150 or so years. I knew he was special; I just had no idea how special.

  I was beginning to wonder what Vali meant by calling Ricky “Trickster.” Before I could finish my thought, harsh light filled the stained glass windows, and the sound of huge aircraft buzzing the citadel deafened us all.

  I shielded my eyes and tried to get a good look at the source of the sensory overload. A fusion-powered hover-skiff floated around the building, and powerful external floodlights lit up the night sky. I checked out the symbols and markings of the sleek floating ship. Crimson, black, and gold. The heraldic colors of Dantalion, Archduke of the Northern Kingdom of Lemegeton.

  I put my guns away, because I knew in a few moments, things were about to be interesting. Awkward as fuck, but interesting. Abraxas saw the hover-skiff and began to laugh.

  “Nowhere to run now, little smuggler.”

  “Shut up, Abby.” I regarded him briefly, the turned my back on him, facing the giant doors to the landing platform. From over my shoulder I could hear Abraxas muttering curses and threats still.

  “Dantalion. He will finish you. He will crush you, break your spirit and your bodies. You will beg to die.”

  “Seriously. Shut the fuck up.” I turned my head slightly behind me to yell at the trapped demon. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of addressing him directly. “Besides, I may not be an expert on demon culture, but how is your biggest contemporary and rival going to take it that you are my prisoner in your own house and all your lords and holdings all but dead? Chew on that one, asshole.” Abraxas stopped his ranting.

  “Heh heh. Hit a nerve you no consider?” T asked laughingly. I was fairly sure that T was slipping Abraxas occasional shocks just for the fun of it.

  “What do we do now?” Vali asked.

  “Glad to hear you say ‘we,’ ” I said and gave him an honest nod. “We hold our ground. There’s no telling how Dantalion is going to react. I never met the guy. I only know him by reputation. Ricky, what are we to expect?”

  “Better hope he is in a good mood,” Ricky said, puffing away. Grimm just gave Ricky a stern glare.

  Grimm was about to say something when heraldic trumpets sounded. The blaring brass cut the room and made my brain want to shut down. The fusion skiff had landed outside on the platform, and a freaking parade of retainers flooded out in pomp and douchebaggery.

  The room filled with human shock troops taking offensive positions among the rubble and piles of corpses. Several weapons barrels were levied against me and all my comrades. If I wasn’t so tired from surviving the last scuffle with Abraxas and his men, I might have actually given a shit.

  A procession of half-dressed, dead-eyed humans carrying the standard and colors of Dantalion followed. Full-demon nobles of various ethnicities were dressed in fine garb that was vaguely Arabian. Their inferium swords were shaped like great scimitars. The procession came to a halt as a large palanquin was carried in by overly large demon mutts. The litter was set gently on the floor while human commando troops in scarlet and gold response suits secured the area.

  “OK, we get it. You’re a big bucket of badass importance,” I yelled to the palanquin. “Can we get to the point where we talk, you make threats, and we either try and kill one another or come to an agreement of some kind?” I was surprised when Vali and Vidar nodded and grunted along with me. I was more surprised when Grimm said “Amen.”

  The nearest soldier aimed a weapon at me. I just stared back. “Better drop that thing before you get hurt,” I threatened the man. He made no sign of lowering the weapon. And I have never been a fan of idle threats. If you can’t follow through with something, then shut your mouth. My immediate plan was to take his weapon and break it over his knees. It may have been a stupid plan, but hell, I’d been shooting from the hip all evening.

  A voice came from the litter. “Lower your weapon, Reginald.” The soldier complied.

  I winked at the trooper. “Thanks, Reggie.” The soldier sneered at me in return. Actually sneered. OK, maybe it wasn’t such a stupid plan. I moved fast and suddenly took the rifle and smashed it alongside his left knee, splintering the carbon composite stock. The man buckled and I tossed the ruined weapon over my shoulder. I looked about as many of the troops now trained their weapons at me. I could tell they were itching for a reason to open fire. But they were also professionals. They would hold until given order.

  “I told you.” A second voice came from the litter. This one I recognized. Maz disembarked. The seven-foot Gluttony demon was wearing fine cream and tan silken attire and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He looked like a demonic 1970s porno Jedi.

  “Indeed you did,” said the first voice again. Dantalion stepped down from his conveyance with unneeded assistance from Maz’s supplicant arm. Dantalion was not what I expected. He was short for a full demon. Around my height—six foot or so—but a slender build. His horns came out and twisted up in an almost Celtic knotwork halo around his head. He too wore silken robes and sashes, but his were pure black with gold trim, and he wore blood red boots. His skin was slate grey with marbled yellow running through it. He was definitely a pureblood and child of Belphagor, the sin of Sloth.

  I never really got Sloth. So you made some asshole extra lazy. Yay. How is that a real feather in the cap of demonic hierarchy? Seemed like the worst kind of demon to be. The Aquaman of the demon world.

  “Actually, being a demon of Sloth is quite rewarding. Also, Aquaman was always underrated.” Dantalion addressed me directly. I hadn’t said anything out loud. So how did he know what I was thinking?

  Aww hell. Dantalion reads minds.

  The archduke smiled at me. “Yes. I do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Homicidal Poet and Threat Artist

  “Sloth is what you humans call it.” Dantalion addressed me directly. His face was androgynous, masculine and feminine depending on how you looked at it. His voice was husky and reedy at the same time. Maybe it was part of his glamour, but I had a very hard time making out the specifics of his features.

  “And reading minds is something I do,” Dantalion continued. “A gift, if you will.”

  Oh shit. That can’t be good.

  “No, it is not good for you. Invaluable for me. However, as I was saying, you humans call it Sloth. In the great times before, before your Aquinas trivialized it, Sloth was also known as the ‘the denial of potential.’ You see, any fool can kill or fuck. But to prevent greatness from ever happening, to retard the masses—that, dear boy, is true skill. And it is because of that skill that I rule the North.”

  “Do you practice that speech?” I asked. I heard Vali and Grimm groan. But I also heard Ricky and Vidar chuckle. So, hell, I reckoned I was breaking even. Maz politely abstained.

  “Yes,” the archduke said bluntly with no sense of shame and a touch of boredom. “But to the point, as I said, I rule the North, so why am I
here in the godawful Ars Goetia?” Before I could answer him, he started up again. “Because you wanted me here. You sent your associate Bishop Maz’Zael to me with a proposition. I admit, I am intrigued.”

  “I figured you might be. Might we sit and discuss it like civilized people?” I asked. Archduke Dantalion completely ignored me and began to wander about the great hall in what appeared to be a semi-lucid daze. Maz walked over and stood next to me. I offered my hand and he shook it.

  “Took you long enough.”

  “Got here as quick as I could. I have been dealing with that for a while now,” Maz pointed out. “When he is normal, he is sharp and powerful. When he goes into these little dazes of his, well, he is batshit insane. That might even make him more dangerous.”

  “How so?” I asked

  “His men are loyal to the point of zealotry. Sane or crazy, they follow his commands.”

  “Why is he all, you know, like that?” I asked, pantomiming the archduke’s Jack Sparrow-like insane stare and manner.

  “Dunno. My guess is his ability to read minds. When he was in Hell, there was nothing to listen to. During his time with Solomon on Earth he could deal with it in short bursts. But in the time spent up here since G-Day, it must be a constant barrage of information. The demon brain wasn’t designed for your world’s physics, I guess.”

  “Is that why the topside generation doesn’t have any ‘gifts’?”

  “Probably.” Maz shrugged. Dantalion moved about, examining the bodies of demons and humans alike. The archduke picked up corpses as if they weighed nothing. He would look them over, smell them, and lick them. While doing all that, he was softly muttering to himself. And my fate was in his hands. Great. This day just gets better.

  “Anjelchion,” whispered the archduke, sniffing the air. His head snapped to Vidar and Vali. He moved swiftly, barely touching the ground, and advanced on the Norse gods. The surviving warriors of Midheim drew their weapons.