Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) (33 page)

Eyes brimming with hot tears, I grit my teeth till my molars creaked.
You want it all?
I thought.
You've got it. You can have all of my hate. All of my anger. All of my sadness. You can have it all, demon. Because we're standing the fuck up right now. This isn't the end. Not yet.
My body trembled as I surrendered completely to the anger.

My heartbeat quickened, stabilized, fell into a fiercer rhythm just then.

It's entirely possible I was just hallucinating, but my pulse sounded not a little like the opening chords of “Search and Destroy”.

And then, from the hallway, I heard a familiar voice. Germaine. “It was in here. Get ready, because Lucy's in the thick of it. The necromancer is inside. We ain't got long before the whole place comes down!”

No, no, this wasn't how I'd wanted things to go. Germaine had led everyone into the building. Right where Agamemnon wanted them. “Turn around!” I tried to scream.

The words died in my severed throat.

FORTY-TWO

Kubo threw open the door, and Kanta, Percy, Joe and Germaine followed close behind. They'd come alone, without any of the commandos. That was just about the only intelligent thing about their visit to the hotel.

The Chief was red in the face, but not because he'd been running. From the minute he walked in and set eyes on me, I could sense his anger. There are scarier things in the world than Chief Kubo, though, and one of them walked in not two seconds later.

Agamemnon and a score of zombies burst into the lobby, throwing the team's arrival into chaos. The ambush was working just as the necromancer had intended. I wondered how it was Kubo and the others had made it here so quickly. They'd likely gone in by themselves, hoping to infiltrate the building early, only to meet Germaine half-way.

It didn't really matter, though. Agamemnon had all of us arranged just where he wanted us. I had no way of knowing just how long those explosives had left, but they were going to go off soon. When they did, it'd be game over.

Strolling in like a king, flanked by marching undead, Agamemnon raised his scythe in the air. “Well, as predicted, the cavalry has come. I suppose you intend to stop me?”

Kubo, his busted arm still in a sling, leveled his gun at the necromancer and fired off two shots in quick succession. The bullets hit their mark, sinking into Agamemnon's bare chest while the horde moved in. I watched from beneath the web of stone-like zombies as the necromancer's wounds quickly healed over. He hadn't even flinched as the bullets connected. Silver was awfully painful for a creature like me, but he'd shrugged it off like a mosquito bite.

At the same time, Kanta took the lead, unsheathing the Archangel Saber. The luminosity of the blade alone was sufficient to force back the mass of undead, and as she held it out in front of her, I felt the zombies atop me quickly weaken. I wasn't spared from the sword's power, either. Already suffering, my eyes began to burn, and I squeezed them shut as tightly as I could to block out the blinding light.

The sight of that sword knocked the grin straight off of Agamemnon's face. “Where did you get that?” he demanded. Holding the scythe out in front of him, Agamemnon ignored everyone else in the room. So far as he was concerned, only Kanta and the sword in her hand was real. “Where did you get that weapon?” he shouted again.

Kanta waved the blade before her slowly, warding off the cowering zombies who only moments ago had been closing in on them. “I think you know exactly where we got it.”

Our theft of the sword apparently hadn't reached Agamemnon. That poor sap in the Underground, Dennis, probably hadn't gotten in touch with the necromancer to let him know, fearing the consequences. Rightfully so; Agamemnon would have flayed the guy if he'd known what we did.

Agamemnon motioned to his minions. “Attack!”

The undead flinched at the sound of his voice and began to approach Kubo and the others once more. A single wave of the sword was enough to beat them back, however, and they gave up yet more ground, crowding around the necromancer fearfully. That's right; Kanta didn't even have to
cut
the things. They knew what that sword could do. These shambling, rotting things couldn't process a whole lot, but they
were
capable of fearing the Archangel Saber.

Scowling, Agamemnon switched tactics. “This building is set to explode in less than five minutes. I will survive the blast, but the rest of you will not be so fortunate. I don't suppose that the grudge you bear me is worth dying for, is it?”

Persuasive though that argument might have been, Kanta wasn't having it. “So be it. I'll strike you dead, no matter the cost.”

Joe and Percy were hanging back, near the door. Judging by the wild looks in their eyes, they weren't too keen on the dying part. Germaine was clinging to the scabbard of Percy's sword, while Kubo took hold of a spare clip and began picking off zombies.

“Enough talk!” barked Kubo between deafening headshots. “It's over, Agamemnon.” One after another, the cowering zombies hit the floor. Pausing only to reload, Kubo made quick work of the horde. Before long there were only a handful left in the lobby with us. He shot a couple of the undead that clung to me as well, breaking the chain and setting me free.

Of course, I wasn't really in a position to go anywhere. My left leg refused to heal, and I still couldn't speak for the gash in my throat unless the demon took over. If I'd tried standing up on my one good leg, chances were about fifty-fifty that my guts would spill out. No, I stayed right there on the floor where I was, breathing heavily. Kanta had this all wrapped up. No sense in my trying to be the tough guy again.

Agamemnon was furious, and the sweat accumulating on his brow was beginning to smear the ash on his face. I wanted to make some joke about his mascara running, but, you know... I couldn't talk.

Joe and Percy pushed through the corpses and pulled me across the lobby, towards the door. They looked at me with alarm and pity. I felt like a train wreck but could barely imagine what I
looked
like at that moment.

“So be it,” said Agamemnon, raising the scythe and approaching Kanta. “This room shall be your grave.”

The fight of all fights began. In one corner was Kanta, armed with the Archangel Saber. It was a frightful thing to me, what with its materials having come from Heaven itself. In the other corner was Agamemnon, wielding a scythe that belonged to the Grim Reaper. Even
he
was spooked by the sword, though.

Considering the nature of the weapons, it was clear that whoever landed the first blow would be the winner. That made this fight surprisingly
normal
. This was something of an old-fashioned duel; you got one shot, and one shot only. The first one to get hurt would end up dead. Despite my injuries, I managed to sit up a bit and watch. Kubo backed up towards us, reloading his gun yet again and preparing to step in.

The two combatants fell into a slow dance, weapons poised for a quick strike. Despite the power of that sword, I felt Kanta was at a major disadvantage in this bout. She was tough as they came, no doubt, but Agamemnon's skill on the battlefield was incredible. He was the best fighter I'd ever faced. One wrong move and Agamemnon would tear her to shreds. Moreover, the scythe, and his impressive stature, gave him a lot more reach and power.

The weapons met. Agamemnon swung his scythe like a punk with a baseball bat, and though Kanta managed to block the attack, the force of the necromancer's strike left her rattled. Sparks flew as the blades met, and they remained locked against one another in a power struggle for a few breathless moments until the two of them pulled away and prepared for a second go.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

It was Kubo. Kneeling beside me, he took a potshot at the necromancer. The bullet grazed Agamemnon's leg and was probably intended to serve as a distraction to him. The effect was the opposite, however.

Agamemnon's focus was unshakeable. His mind was like steel, and even the crack of a silver bullet wasn't enough to force him from his trance. Kanta, though, was taken by surprise and flinched. That was the opening the necromancer needed, and with the same dirty trick he'd used on me, he stooped low and knocked Kanta's legs out from underneath her.

Kubo unloaded his gun, blasting Agamemnon again and again, but by that point, it was too late. The necromancer was on the move. He took a step back, accepting the bullets without complaint, and prepared his next strike; a downward slash. He was going to marry Kanta's spine to the carpet beneath.

Kanta lost her grip on the sword. The Archangel Saber went tumbling across the floor, well out of her reach. The blade was half-lost within a mass of corpses. Sensing the attack from above, Kanta rolled to one side, pulled a hair from her head and narrowly avoided being routed. A gleaming trident materialized in her hands, and with it she met the necromancer's hammer-blow.

But she was still pinned to the ground. If she gave an inch, the tip of the scythe was going to end up buried in her chest. Kanta panted, lifting the trident like a bar on a bench press with altogether too many plates loaded onto it, and struggled against Agamemnon's might. Her arms were shaking already. It was clear how this was going to go.

Joe and Percy stepped in, preparing their attacks while Kubo went looking for a seal to use. All the while, Kanta was on the chopping block, about to give up the ship.

A fresh slew of zombies from the hallways kept the three of them from interfering. With the angelic sword out of sight, buried in a heap of bodies, the zombies had their fight back. They sprang from all of the dark corners and laid into Percy, Joe and Kubo something fierce. The trio held their ground, but were sufficiently blocked from rushing the necromancer like they'd wished. Kubo was forced to resort to his gun once again, and as the bullets finally ran out, he whipped out his Ka-Bar and simply tried to keep himself from being crushed by the stampede of undead.

And so went the world. The necromancer was a hair's breadth from killing Kanta. When that was done, he'd kill the rest of them before they could recover the sword and then the building would explode. He would live, all of us would die, and he'd be free to take over the city, just like he'd planned.

In the chaos, Agamemnon forgot all about one vital player, however.

No, I'm not talking about
me
.

I'm talking about Germaine-fucking-Fox.

FORTY-THREE

The Brazilian Wandering Spider pounced.

I hate bugs, make no mistake, but as I watched Germaine rocket off of Percy's back, spiral through the air, and land on Agamemnon's boulder-like shoulder, I wanted to cheer.

“All right, you evil prick,” shouted Germaine. “I hope they've got Cialis in this new world of yours, cuz you're never getting it up again!” Germaine sank his fangs into the necromancer's flesh for everything he was worth.

Surprisingly, Agamemnon reacted. Cringing, he tried to toss the annoying creature from his shoulder. The fangs were in too deep, however, and with every twitch, Germaine just dug in deeper. “You vile little--” The necromancer, his focus temporarily weakened, gave up some ground against Kanta, who pushed back with renewed gusto against the Scythe of Thanatos. Her trident looked about to fold; her weapon was creaking, bending slightly as it staved off the necromancer's blade.

Germaine had gifted her a bit of time, delayed the inevitable for a few minutes, but it couldn't last forever. Agamemnon was going to double down and break through her trident. He was still going to win, unless something drastic was done. Kubo, Joe and Percy weren't faring well. There were so many zombies entering from every entrance that they scarcely had room to move. Joe tossed a series of fireballs about the lobby, but his aim was thrown off by the constant blows of the undead, and as a result he burned up more furniture than anything. Percy could hardly swing his sword, they were so crowding in on him. And the Chief, poor guy, was getting hammered, barely able to stay upright. He'd lost his knife and was forced to pistol-whip his way out of the throng.

There was only one thing to do. The plan entered my mind, and if I'm being honest, my entire being recoiled at the very thought of it. But another moment's consideration was all it took; I knew what had to be done.

I needed to take hold of that angelic blade and get it back to Kanta.

This mythical weapon was
made
for killing creatures like me. Just looking at it was enough to bring me to my knees. If I could somehow get over there and take hold of it, I felt ninety-nine percent sure that it would kill me on the spot.

Was killing Agamemnon worth it? If I grabbed that sword, I could possibly end this fight and help kill the necromancer. But that would be it for me. Curtains.

It was a snap judgement on my part.

I used what little strength I had to lurch upward. I dug my one good leg into the floor and threw myself forward, over the heaps of dead zombies, and towards the hilt of the saber. As I did so, my wounds were torn open afresh. Gore spilled from my mouth and throat, and my entrails dragged behind me. I landed with a wet thud upon a number of corpses, and then clawed my way over them. It was from this cold pile of dead zombies that I loosed the sword. Like King Arthur yanking Excalibur out of the rock, I reached out, wrapped my fingers around it, and--

If I had been able to make a sound at that moment, my screams would have been heard over the cacophony.

What I felt at that moment was pain
beyond
pain. I lifted the sword but was instantly rendered blind by the light that came off of it, and as I rolled towards Kanta, the pain shooting through my arm temporarily snuffed out all sensation.

The end of the line. Next stop, Fire and Brimstone Avenue. Pain eclipsed everything, and I had what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience. Probably, my soul was being torn from my body.

What occurred next, for the longest time, seemed like a hallucination to me. I felt someone's hand on top of mine, wrapped around the saber's leather hilt. Hovering just over the scene, I watched as Kanta took hold of the sword. It was
her
hand I was feeling. There was another hand on the hilt, too.