Demon Squad 7: Exit Wounds Read online

  Beside me, Karra cleaved aside a trio of monkey paws as they reached for her, stubby little fingers filling the air. I took advantage of her swipe and blasted one of the critters in the face when it stared wide-eyed at its wounded hand. It crumpled unconscious with blood and gore splattered across its cheek from the ruin of my own hand. I heard my knuckles creak at the impact, followed by a short, quick pain that ran down my wrist, but I’d done a hell of a lot more damage to the monkey thing than I had myself. Hobbs hadn’t been a total wuss, which was a plus, but he hadn’t been a beast either. I felt slow and sluggish, every move hampered by the charred and brittle shell I was wearing, but I had to make do. Everyone else was.

  Across the way, Veronica launched a merciless barrage of strikes, her hands a blur in front of her. What she lacked in power, she made up for in precision. Monkey eyes squinted, follow up punches to the throat turned the group into a choir, the Hairball Symphony resounding in the cramped quarters.

  “Frank!”

  I heard Karra’s warning just before I felt jagged teeth sink into my forearm. There was a dull, resonating thump as the creature’s mouth closed, and I didn’t have to see the knots welling alongside its jawline to know it had locked onto the bone. I cursed and stumbled backward as the other monkeys pushed for the hole. Another seized on my thigh, but Karra killed it before it even noticed it was dead. Her blade flashed past me, silver on the way down, crimson on the way out. The mini-monkey’s eyes burst wide and rolled back, gold obscuring the tiny dots of black that had swum inside just seconds before.

  Karra stabbed the one locked on my arm. It bit down harder as the blade slid into its temple, and I heard a cruel snap just before she withdrew the sword from its sagging head. I had an instant to wonder what the sound was when pain steamrolled its way up my captured limb and into my shoulder, stinging my eyes. Just my luck, it had been my arm breaking and not the bastard’s not-so-midget teeth.

  I hissed and dropped to my knees, tugging at the dead monkey head with my free hand, ripping it loose of my arm with a shout. Karra cleared some space between me and the simian onslaught, forcing the rest to slow or be cut down. Katon and Veronica closed ranks right then to maintain the integrity of our makeshift barrier. I clenched my teeth and let Karra help me to my feet, her eyes never leaving the enemy. She growled at them, brandishing her steel. A reedy, short squee, from the forest above, seemed to reinforce her sentiment.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked, and no one seemed in a rush to answer, but there concerned faces all around.

  The monkeys’ momentum stalled at the sound, and I could almost see the morale break across their faces, torn between us and whatever had made the noise up top. Whatever it was, they didn’t seem pleased to hear it. Their guttural grunts and barks metamorphosed into excited hoots, and then the ranks broke, a scattering of marbles from a spilled bag. They scrambled over one another, showing us their puckered little monkey asses while they made for the exit. A few seconds later they were gone with only the serenade of their fleeing voices echoing in the distance.

  Katon scrambled across the bodies and peered over the crevice edge, surveying the trees.

  “You see anything?”

  He dropped down after a long moment of intense silence, waving the all clear.

  I slumped to the ground as soon as he did. Last thing we needed was something else crawling up our butts. “That was some serious—”

  “Whatever you do, Frank,” Katon interrupted, “do not make a monkey business joke.” He waggled a finger at me.

  “Are barrels off limits? What about Yahoos?”

  He growled.

  “Monnnkkkkeeeeyyy peeeeeee, monnnnkkkeeeeyyy doooooo doooo.”

  Katon’s glare went full darkness, and I pointed at Chatterbox. “How come he gets to make jokes and I don’t?”

  The enforcer shook his head and marched off, dragging broken monkey bits behind him.

  “He’s going to kill you one day,” Veronica said as she stepped past me, going to help Katon.

  “Probably.” After giving Karra a once over to make sure she was okay, I looked back to Rala, Rahim still hovering at her side. “You all right, short stuff?” She was a good kid, and I really didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had.

  She nodded, following my example by popping a squat. “I’m okay.” She glanced at Chatterbox to see how he was, and he did his best to nod. It was a sad attempt, but comforting in its simplicity. After she propped him in her lap so he could see what all was going on without blowing out an eyeball, she glanced back over to me. “You don’t look so hot.”

  I bit back on my Michael Jackson comment and just nodded instead. If I looked anything like I felt, I could understand her concern. My arm burned as if I’d fisted the sun. Pain ran the length of it, and dead skin or no, every nerve screamed.

  “I’ll be okay,” I lied and pressed my back against the wall with a muffled sigh. Rala didn’t need any more negativity from me.

  “Not likely.” Katon returned, wiping his hands on his pants, dark stains smeared in their wake. “I don’t know exactly what happened to damage your host body, but in its condition it’s going to take months to heal.”

  Hey look, more good news. “Yeah?” This being a vampire gig was all new to me, and I wasn’t enjoying it very much. My used jalopy didn’t have a damn warranty let alone a user’s manual.

  Katon was clearly enjoying this. He chuckled, coming over to kneel beside me. “Nice thing about being undead is that these bodies only need a kick start to shoot the repairs into overdrive.”

  I sat up a little straighter at that, catching the edges of the growing smirk on his face. “This isn’t how you vampires come on to folks, is it? I mean, I’m okay with getting a little freaky to feel better and all, but I draw the line at anal.”

  “Ewww.” Rala shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

  Chatterbox giggled.

  “Lucky for you, Frank, it’s nothing so crass, though it will involve an exchange of fluids.”

  “Get a room, you two,” Veronica called out from her position near the crevice edge.

  “Please,” Karra added with a laugh, dropping down on the other side of me. “Not that I have an issue with the expression of true love or anything, but I really don’t want to see it.”

  Rahim joined Veronica with a shake of his head, leaving me to the machinations of the vampire enforcer.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  Katon smiled and drew his sword. I watched as he turned it in his hand and pressed the tip against my inner thigh.

  His grin widened, teeth glimmering. “This will only hurt for a second.”

  Four

  (Scarlett)

  I awoke with a scream, the bitter teeth of darkness gnawing at my side. Strong hands clasped mine and a host of others pinned me down the moment I came to. A soft, soothing voice poured honeyed words into my ear.

  “Be at peace, child. You are safe.”

  My eyes broke free of the weights that pinned them closed, and I looked up to find Metatron hovering over me. My heart stilled at his presence, peace washing over me. I was home. Angels floated at his side, their loving grips holding me tight.

  “Remain still,” he cautioned, and I realized it was his hand that prodded my wound, which had caused me to awaken.

  A golden glow suffused my skin, torn, ravaged flesh fading beneath his touch. I could feel the bones shifting beneath, broken nubs spurred to life by Metatron’s will. It was uncomfortable, the bones growing at his ministrations, but the pain that had so encompassed me drained away more and more with each passing second. After a short moment, I was able to draw in a breath and not feel the splintered edges of the bones ripped from my side by…

  “Frank!” I popped upright in defiance of the hands that scrambled to hold me down.

  “You must stay still, child,” Metatron told me, the pressure of God’s one true voice pressuring me, but my rage would not be denied. “You are not
yet whole.”

  “I cannot,” I answered. “Triggaltheron has lost his mind, master, just as Duke Forcalor feared. I must—”

  “You must heal first.” Uriel appeared beside Metatron and set a hand on my shoulder, forcing me back onto the bed. “All else can be dealt with in time.”

  “There is no time,” I told him, though I didn’t dare fight against his strength. “He’s gone mad, Uriel. Laid waste to Old Town and hurt my friends…Katon…” His name set my chest alight. Frank had cast him mercilessly into whatever demonic dimension he’d cleaved open. Where was he? Where were…? “Rachelle!” I shouted, remembering the woman’s soft hands and urgent voice calling to me when all others had faded.

  “I’m here,” she answered from behind the angels who retreated as reason returned to my mind, their restraining efforts no longer needed. “I was worried.”

  “As was I,” I admitted and ran my palm over my ribs where Metatron had healed me, grateful to find only smooth skin. The wound was gone as if it had never been. A flicker of remorse pecked at my heart, and I pulled my eyes from the selfish appraisal of my side and glanced at Rachelle. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, the dark mop of her hair hanging loosely about her sharpened cheeks. A sad smile, clearly forced, graced her thin lips. “I’m well, though I don’t know about the others.”

  The sorrow in her tone was heartbreaking, its misery the twin of my own as memories of what happened flooded my mind. “I know,” I said, turning my gaze to Metatron. “We need to stop Frank before someone else gets hurt, and we need to find our friends. Call to the Choir and prepare for—” The cold stare that answered me stilled my tongue.

  He looked to Uriel for a long moment before returning his eyes to me. “I’m sorry.”

  The words were a blow I couldn’t comprehend. “Sorry? Sorry for…?”

  “I had hoped, truly, you would prove Forcalor wrong when he sent you to Earth, that you might sway Triggaltheron from his path. Despite your failure, I cannot call the Choir to bear, child.”

  I leapt to my feet, unable to control the heat that colored my cheeks and sharpened my tongue. Uriel drew close. “Sorry?” I repeated. “Frank is on a rampage with all the power of the Anti-Christ at his disposal, whatever loyalty and kindness he once resolved to hold on to long gone in his sudden insanity. Earth is in danger and God only knows that Heaven must be next. Why else would he do this?”

  “And that is why I cannot send the Choir to wage war on Earth. They are needed here.”

  “They’re needed to keep the people safe,” I argued. It hurt to challenge my master, the only true soul left to rule in God’s stead, but the fear that had long lingered had finally manifested in Frank’s betrayal, his assault upon the people I called friends. It would only grow worse from there. I knew the blood that ran in his veins, for it ran in my own, however diluted by God’s love.

  “The humans are not our concern,” Metatron said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Eden has been compromised and far too many enemies lie in wait for its gates to open. I will not commit our defenses to the foolish pursuit of Lucifer’s whelp.”

  “But if he—”

  “Stop, child.” His golden gaze slammed into me, commanding obedience.

  I sighed and met his stare with my own. “No, I cannot.” Perhaps Lucifer’s rebellious touch ran deeper than I ever dared admit. “We must stop Frank before more innocents die. In the absence of Satan, Triggaltheron is the new Devil. If he is not Heaven’s purpose, then we are truly lost in God’s heart.”

  “She has a point,” Uriel added.

  Metatron’s jaw tightened. “I have made my decision. The Father left Heaven to my care, and it is my mission to ensure the gates remain barred against the evils of Lucifer and his kin. As long as Heaven stands, God’s will is done.”

  His refusal pierced the remnant seed of my restraint. “If you will not stand for the children of God, then what purpose does Heaven serve?”

  “Be still your tongue,” Metatron shouted. “We are God’s true children, not humanity. It is we who are tasked to defend His throne. Their only lot is to suffer and survive whatever their short lives might conspire to throw their way. We are not their keepers, Scarlett, and have not been since Sodom and Gomorrah fell to ash beneath His damning stare.” Metatron drew himself up, and my heart pounded in my chest at his proclamation. “If you would save the failure of mankind, child, you will do it without my help or that of the Choir.”

  It was as if he’d struck me. I stumbled back, Uriel’s restraining hand the only thing keeping me from falling. “You would—”

  He raised a hand to silence me. “You have my decision. I will make no other.” He spun about and started to walk away.

  “She will not go alone.”

  Metatron stopped mid-step at hearing Uriel. He turned and looked to the defender of Eden. “You would turn your back on Heaven?”

  “Never, my brother,” Uriel answered without hesitation. My pulse cheered his stand despite its cost. “But you entrusted me with our defense, the guardianship of our world, which includes Earth despite your protestations. However, I fear the fight will be lost long before it comes to our borders. I see no reason to hunker down and await our fall, worried that every sound at our backs is the descendant of Lucifer coming to find revenge. No, I would take the fight to our enemy far from our precious home, brother.”

  “And if you fail?”

  Uriel shrugged. “Then I will die as I have always lived; as a warrior, defending the principles God instilled within me. He did not take those when He left.”

  Metatron sighed. “You disappoint me, my friend. You would spend your last breath on humanity?”

  “I intend to spend nothing save the touch of my sword.” He grinned, brilliant white teeth sparkling in the emotional gloom. “God granted us free will at His departure. He would not have done so had He not intended us to use it.” Uriel stepped past me and stuck his hand out. “If I am wrong, He will correct me.”

  After a tense moment, Metatron reached out and clasped his forearm. “I do not agree with your decision—”

  “Nor I yours,” Uriel countered.

  Metatron continued, only a slight nod giving any indication that he’d even heard the guardian’s comment. “—but I will do nothing to stop you or Scarlett from following your hearts, foolish as they may be.”

  “Thank you.” The words were out in gush, but my relief was a shallow, murky pool. Uriel might well be the greatest of God’s Angels still remaining loyal to Heaven, but I worried he was no match for the power that ran in Frank’s veins. Its source borne of God’s only son, he truly was the Anti-Christ now as Lucifer had always wished, though even now it sickened me to admit it. I’d never trusted my cousin—our relation alone a reminder of the darkness that ran in my veins—but he had never aspired to be what Satan had wanted before. Why now?

  I shook the question aside. There was no longer any time to worry about why. I needed only to act lest Frank’s madness take him further down the well of damnation. I glanced over at Uriel and Rachelle and sighed inwardly. This was not the army I had hoped to build to waylay Frank’s threat, but it would have to do, however, as there was no other to be found.

  Uriel echoed my sentiment of thanks to Metatron, offering the master a deep bow. “Thank you. I will not spend our lives needlessly, but I would know what threatens our peace and destroy it before it comes too close.”

  Metatron nodded. “Then do what you must, but be certain I will not aid you in your quest lest Triggaltheron conspire to lay siege to Heaven itself.”

  “Fair enough, brother.”

  Metatron stared at all of us for an uncomfortable moment before leaving without so much as a backward glance. His procession of angels followed after, each wishing us God’s peace in our journey. Once they were gone, Uriel turned to Rachelle.

  “Your powers are over the dimensions?”

  “Not exactly,” she answered, her awareness honed in a way I’d
rarely seen from her. “I cleave passages between them.”

  Uriel smiled at that, giving a shallow nod. “Then, if you would, take us to Triggaltheron.”

  Five

  The blade flashed and cut a deep wound in my leg, slicing open the femoral artery. I hissed as cold black blood oozed from the wound.

  “What the hell?”

  Katon turned the sword about, and then dragged its edge across his palm before slipping it back into its sheath. “My apologies for the mess,” he said.

  Still confused, I watched in awe as he reached for my crotch. “Whoa there, buddy. Blood’s not really a good lube.” Not that I had any experience using it as such…no, really.

  The enforcer just laughed and slapped his hand over the wound he’d cut in my leg, skin meeting skin with a slap. I was both relieved and a little scared at the same time. A sexual harassment suit was just a twitch away.

  “Relax, Frank. Your cousin is much more my type.”

  “Good,” I said, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything better.

  “What will this do?” Karra asked, clearly more capable of speech since it wasn’t her jiggly bits just inches from an assassin’s hand.

  Katon pointed to me with his free hand. “Watch.”

  “Watch what?” I asked, but the “what” he was referring to hit me like a Mack truck right then.

  Where there had been only cold running through my veins, a sudden heat welled up and set fire to my blood. I screamed as it roared through my veins, molten fury coursing through my body as if I were fellating a volcano. My back slammed into the wall of the crevice, and Karra grabbed at my arms to keep me steady.

  “It’ll pass in a moment, Frank.”

  Katon’s voice was a sliver in the agony that pierced me. My vision was a blur, red and black the only colors I could see, great splotches of each swirling about as though my eyes had been replaced with lava lamps. My muscles stiffened and there was a quick tug at my forearm, completely painless, as the bone set itself and the ligaments pulled taut. I squeezed my tears aside to see Karra’s worried face just inches from mine, her fingers tracing circles on my cheek even though I couldn’t feel it. There was the slightest flutter of a smile on her lips. Katon, on the other hand, grinned wide at whatever was happening to me.