Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) (28 page)

“You and me are done after this, Germaine. You hear me? I know where you work-- I'm going to have your ass for this.” Dennis tossed down his cigarette and started marching towards us. Kubo kept him in check, his hand around the guy's sweaty collar.

“Write a letter to your congressman,” was the spider's rejoinder. “Everyone ready? We found what we came for.” Extending an arm Joe's way, he urged him to hand the blade to Kanta. “Give it to her, kid. See how she likes it.”

Joe handed the angelic sword to Kanta, who accepted it excitedly. Inspecting the dull, leather scabbard, she tugged on the hilt and drew out the blade.

I wish someone had warned me.

The blade slid out of its sheath, and the light that came off of it was damn near blinding to me. I reared back, covering my eyes. The blade had an otherworldly shine to it, and to stare at it was like looking directly at the sun. That sword had been crafted by entities intending to kill creatures like me; it was no wonder that I hated it. No one else seemed to react to the light; maybe they couldn't even see it.

“P-put it back,” I pleaded, palming at my watery eyes. “The blade is too bright.”

Kanta returned it to the sheath, grinning. “My, it's the real deal, isn't it? You can't even look at the blade, can you, demon?” She laughed, strapping the scabbard to her waist and toying with the hilt. “Good to know.”

I was seeing stars for quite a while after that. As we left Dennis in the courtyard and started racing through the streets, I wondered if my sight would ever return to normal after staring at that blade. We ran at full tilt, cutting through the crowded streets and rushing past the nightmarish denizens of the Beyond. All of that was old hat to me; after everything that'd transpired in the armory I felt drained, out of sorts. Like nothing could reach me.

We pushed through the Underground, past Mona's, and before I knew it, we were in the parking lot outside of Yao's. Somehow, we managed to get out of there without ending up in another fight. The night had deepened and the rain clouds had at least temporarily retreated. I wondered just how long it'd been since we'd first set off. Stopping to catch his breath and cradling his busted arm, Kubo threw open the driver's side door of the SUV and eased himself in. The rest of us followed, too tuckered out for chit-chat.

Even Germaine, loud mouth that he was, didn't talk.

The Chief started the SUV and we cruised out of the lot. What we planned to do now that we had the game-changer in our hands was anyone's guess. See, we still had a big problem.

Where the hell was the necromancer?

We'd been driving for a few minutes when something occurred to me. I sat up in the back seat. “Hey, Chief. Agamemnon has to be close to his zombies to control them, right? Like... within a few miles. Isn't that what you told us?”

Kubo nodded. “That's right. Why?”

Joe looked back at me, wide-eyed. “Then... then what were those zombies doing down there, in the armory?” he asked.

Kubo struggled to hold onto the wheel with his good arm and shot us a sharp glance. “What did you say? You saw
zombies
down there?”

“A fair few of them. And a flesh golem,” added Germaine.

Despite his broken limb, Kubo had been in reasonably good spirits up to that point. We'd had a hell of a time, but we'd accomplished our mission. His mood took a noticeable dive at that moment, however, and he fell silent. When he finally spoke again, it was only in confusion. “That... that shouldn't be possible.”

Germaine scrambled up against the windshield. “Maybe not... but with the Scythe of Thanatos, there's really no telling what he's capable of.”

Kubo gave the vehicle a little gas, gritting his teeth. “That means we're going to have a hell of a time pinning down Agamemnon's location. If he isn't bound by conventional rules, he could be literally
anywhere
.”

I was busy spacing out just then, but even
I
knew that was bad news.

Killing the necromancer was our biggest aim. We hadn't really considered an alternate plan. Fighting thousands and thousands of zombies certainly didn't constitute a workable alternative. If we couldn't find Agamemnon, then we were fucked. Sideways.

Kubo floored it, hitting the highway and racing in the direction of HQ. “Let's hope someone at headquarters has a lead. Otherwise...”

He preferred not to finish that sentence.

***

We marched into HQ, and from the first moment, Kubo refused to be taken to the medical wing for his arm. “There are bigger fish to fry,” he said as Amundsen came out to meet us, looking threadbare. “We've got a real serious problem.”

“What's wrong?” asked Amundsen, glancing at the sword on Kanta's waist. “Did you not manage to retrieve the saber?”

Kubo nodded. “Oh, we got the sword all right. Trouble is, our intel was all wrong. See, it appears that Agamemnon doesn't have to remain within a few miles of his horde... There were zombies waiting for us in the Underground. Do you understand what that means? He can distance himself, control them from afar. When it comes time for the war to start, he doesn't have to be on the front lines.”

Amundsen blanched, bringing an embroidered hanky to his greying temples. “Oh, dear.”

Was this really such a big surprise? Had no one in charge anticipated this sort of development? I'm no genius, but when a cranky death wizard ends up with a weapon belonging to the Grim-freaking-Reaper... you have to expect these kinds of exceptions to the rules. We weren't dealing with a run-of-the-mill necromancer in this case. We'd already discussed it; Agamemnon was something more, quite possibly an avatar of Thanatos himself. The rules didn't apply to him.

“Well,” said Amundsen, trying to keep things pleasant, “we have the sword, and that's half the battle.”

Kanta clutched the saber's scabbard, appearing impatient. “Don't we have
any
leads? What about that spot in the park where Lucy and I were taken prisoner?”

Amundsen sighed. “No, I'm afraid the park has yielded no further clues. There
was
a mass of zombies centered there, but further investigations have seen us come up empty-handed. If... if what Chief Kubo says is true, then there are likely large pockets of zombies all over Detroit. And that would explain why we've had no luck finding the main horde so far. Agamemnon is probably spreading his forces out, making them harder to detect. But when the battle begins, he is likely to hit us from all corners.”

“And... he's going to strike tomorrow night?” chanced Percy. “When the new moon is out and his forces are at their most powerful?”

“That makes the most sense,” replied Germaine. The spider sounded like the wind had been taken out of his sails. He crawled up onto a desk and spooked the attendant there. “We're in a pickle.”

Pickle was too kind a word. We were facing insurmountable odds. Technically, we'd been facing those odds from the very start, but finding the sword was supposed to make everything better. We had an A-bomb in our hands, but no target to focus on. Agamemnon was more clever than any of us had given him credit for. And more powerful, too.

Kubo winced, starting toward the elevator. “Nothing's changed. The plan remains the same,” he barked. “We have one day left to track down Agamemnon and stop this war before it starts. If we cut him down with the Archangel Saber, all of the undead under his sway will die as well. Unless he's managed to rewrite the entire book on necromancy, I know that much to be true. Lucy, go home and get some sleep. I want you back here bright and early. You'll be put in isolation, as planned. The rest of you, feel free to visit the medical wing for care, or head home. I'll be in touch if there are any new developments.”

There was nothing left for me to do but laugh. Kubo disappeared into the elevator, leaving the rest of us with Amundsen in the lobby. “Real great plan you guys have got, Mr. Amundsen. World's about to fall apart, we don't know where the enemy is hiding, but you're going to lock me up at the most critical moment. A stroke of genius.”

No one said anything.

Or, if they did, I wasn't around to hear it.

I left HQ and started walking home.

THIRTY-FOUR

It was four in the morning by the time I got home. I could have gotten there in a flash, sprinting like a maniac, but I'd walked at normal speed like an ordinary person. I'd needed the time to think, and when shit gets heavy, I listen to my feet. It's easier to work through things if I'm walking around.

Of course, by the time I threw open the door to my apartment, I hadn't really managed to sort anything out. Instead I was teeming with piss and vinegar, feeling kind of betrayed by the guys at the Veiled Order. You don't just lock up your prize fighter when the going's about to get tough. It's stupid, senseless.

But my annoyance with the decision extended way beyond that.

I had a bone to pick with that necromancer.

Several bones, actually.

I'd have liked to spend a day just picking
all
of his bones out of his twitching corpse, honestly.

This guy had gone around
my
city, raising the dead. He'd hurt
me
. He'd hurt my
friends.
And on top of everything else, he'd
raised my brother from the dead.

Let me just lay it out, plain and simple.

There was absolutely no fucking way I was sitting out this fight. No chance whatsoever. Kubo could chain me up like a dog, but I'd chew through my own wrists just to bust out of there. If I missed out on this battle, if I didn't at least get to watch Kanta cut Agamemnon into ribbons, then I'd never be able to live with myself.

I began hatching a plan. Pacing around my apartment when I should have been sleeping and preparing mentally for a solid twenty-four hours of imprisonment, I cranked up
Raw Power
, fixed myself a glass of Jameson over ice and got down to brass tacks. Escaping from the isolation room at HQ wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world. For starters, the Veiled Order had gone all the way when prepping that room. Anything that got imprisoned in there wasn't coming out again until they said so...

The gears started turning.

I had an idea, about choked on my whisky when it crossed my mind.

Looking in my closet, I dug around and picked out everything I'd need to pull off an escape.

“All set,” I said, draining my glass. “Sorry to throw a wrench in your plans, Chief.”

After making my preparations, I paced out into the living room and fixed myself another drink. I was too keyed up to sleep and figured I'd pass the time with a little mindless television. The heavy stuff in life had taken up far too much headspace as of late. I didn't want to think about the mission at hand, about my brother, about what was going to happen to me someday when I died. Sometimes you just want to veg out in front of the TV, am I right?

I plopped down and dug out the remote from between the cushions, switching on the television. I'd left it on a local news station, and was about to change the channel when the BREAKING NEWS banner caught my eye.

Footage was being relayed by a news helicopter of the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit. The “RenCen”, as we call it, is among the biggest buildings in the city-- in the entire State, in fact, and it's quite impressive. Seven skyscrapers, all linked together into a single complex. It's an unmistakable feature in the Detroit skyline, a landmark of no little import.

That's why I was so surprised to see parts of it on fire.

I tried to focus on the reporter's frenzied spiel. She was saying stuff about an “early morning attack”, something about “armed insurgents”. But the only thing I could hear as I watched was “The necromancer is moving in.”

I reached for my work phone, never once taking my eyes off of the screen, and read the little scrolling marquee at the bottom. Pundits thought this to be some sort of terrorist attack. The building had been invaded, allegedly, and a SWAT team had been sent there. For whatever reason, the members of that SWAT team had stopped responding, and the news anchors feared the worst. The center tower, the tallest one in the RenCen, was a hotel, and it was reportedly packed with guests. They were all being considered hostages.

Well, the reporters had something right. This
was
a terrorist attack. Just not the kind they were thinking of. I cringed as I imagined what had become of the people staying in the hotel. If they hadn't been killed and converted into soldiers in Agamemnon's army yet, they were going to be very soon. No matter how much the people on the news discussed terrorist organizations, I was sure that this was the necromancer's doing. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Agamemnon, flashy bastard that he was, had taken over the biggest, most eye-catching building in the city. And why was that? He was claiming the RenCen as the headquarters for the new world of death he was looking to create, and tonight, when the new moon appeared, he'd launch his attacks from there. The heart of Detroit.

I dialed Kubo. He answered with a grunt. “Chief, have you seen the news? Something's going down at the RenCen, and I'll bet you top coin it's Agamemnon's doing.”

“We're already on it,” muttered the Chief. “You're supposed to be resting up, Lucy. I expect you here in a couple of hours to start your isolation. No weaseling out of it, either. I'll come out there and drag you in by the ear if I have to.”

“Damn it, Chief! I get it, OK? I'll be at HQ in a little while. But... but the necromancer is in that building. I guarantee it. Listen, when I fought him before, he was a real showy type, right? He spoke in these grand, declarative statements. He thinks he's starting a new world, ushering in a new age where death reigns supreme. It only makes sense that he'd claim a building like the RenCen as his throne. That's where he's going to be tonight, calling the shots. I'd bet my life on it.”

“You're probably right, Lucy,” admitted the Chief. “And like I told you, we're handling it. But it's none of
your
concern. You're due at the lockup in a few hours. Don't be late.” Kubo cut the line.

I threw my phone down and watched as the upper floors of the RenCen building emitted large plumes of smoke. The war was starting.