Happy End of the World (Demon-Hearted Book 3) Read online

  Joe flicked on his Zippo, making the flame burn more brightly so that we could take a good look. The ground was slick.

  With blood.

  A lot of it.

  I paced around the sizable splotch, surveying the walls of the alley and finding drops of crimson peppered even there. Whatever had bled in this spot—a woman, if Ernie was to be believed—had gotten hit hard and fast. There wasn't anything here that screamed “Flying Death Beast” to me, but I couldn't rule out a real enthusiastic stabbing. “Damn,” I said, kneeling down and sticking my finger in the cold spillage. “This stuff is fresh. Really fresh.” I glanced back at the ghost, who cowered behind me. “What did you say this thing looked like?”

  Ernie shuddered as he rattled off the specifics. “Oh, it was hyooge. Musta been fifteen—no, twenty—feet long. Had a scaly body, but its head was a lion's.” Catching the incredulity in my gaze, he repeated more forcefully, “It was a lion's head. Had big wings, like a bat, and then its tail was real long, with little segments and a stinger.”

  Joe shut the lighter and whistled. “Well, I don't know about all of that... but this is a whole lotta blood.” He looked to me. “What should we do, Lucy?”

  I unzipped my bag and pulled out my work-issue phone. “Let's give the Chief a call and see what he thinks.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  5

  Kubo was grimacing before we even started towards the alley. He met us at Steak N' Shake and Ernie took over from there, leading us to the spot where we'd seen the blood. The Chief studied the area a while, took a picture with his phone, and ultimately seemed unimpressed. “And what did it look like?”

  Ernie stuck to his earlier claims. “Had the body of, like, a crocodile. A big one. A lion's head, big wings... the tail, though... it looked like a scorpion's.”

  Kubo inhaled sharply, holding the breath in and adjusting his waistband. “You, uh... you drunk, Ernie?” he asked.

  The ghost seemed to take offense to this, puffing out his chest a little. “Hell, no, I ain't. I've been sober for years—and not by choice, I remind you.” He gulped, eyes raking the black sky overhead. “I swear it, though. I know what I saw, and it was terrible.”

  Looking at Joe and I in turn, Kubo seemed more pissed off than concerned. “I'll keep my ear to the ground, see if something doesn't come of this, but...” He pointed to the blood. “This really isn't enough to go off of. Don't even know who it belongs to. I'll call the police and waste their time with it, but without a body they'll just end up on a wild goose chase.”

  “B-but, what about the beast?” asked Ernie, shuffling forward. “I swear, I saw it!”

  Kubo shrugged a little. “Yeah, and I'm not saying you didn't. But you're the only one who saw it, Ernie. And there's no sign of it here now. Why don't you head on back to the Speakeasy? Call it a night. As for you two,” he added under his breath, “don't go stirring up shit.”

  “Sorry, Chief,” muttered Joe. “Didn't mean to waste your time.”

  Kubo departed shortly thereafter, and Ernie followed him, pleading all the while. That left just Joe, Germaine and I in the alley, staring down at the puddle of freshly-spilled blood. It was steadily freezing, turning into a blood-flavored ICEE.

  Joe laughed to himself. “Well, I guess it was nothing. Maybe a gang member got up to something, you know? There isn't enough evidence to go by. I wonder what got into Ernie, though... It's not like him to just make shit up.”

  For a little while now, my heart had been thumping along at a quicker pace, the muscle striking my breast from the inside like a hammer. I couldn't put my finger on just what was setting me off. Somewhere over the course of this little walk a knot of dread had wound up in my guts and I found myself host to a terrible feeling. It's not that I believed Ernie's ridiculous story about a flying monster, of course. That was too far-fetched, even for me. Leaving this spot and ignoring the obvious evidence of a crime was a bit hard for me to swallow, though.

  I felt Germaine nuzzling up to my arm and peered down my sleeve at him. “What do you make of this?”

  The spider gave the arachnid equivalent to a shrug, forelimbs splayed out. “I think your ghost friend is hitting that ghostly pipe a little too hard, if you catch my drift. Flying monsters, my ass.”

  Joe, Germaine and Kubo were all unbothered by this find. Fair enough. But why wasn't I hopping onboard the Nonchalance Express? My heart kept crashing along, my chest beginning to ache. What is it, Gadreel? You have something to say about this? If so, I'm listening.

  The demon remained silent on the matter, however.

  CHAPTER SIX

  6

  Nothing puts a damper on a night of fun quite like finding a crime scene.

  After following Ernie around in the cold, I no longer felt much like going to the club. Instead, Joe and I parted ways, made plans to get together again soon, and I started off towards my apartment with Germaine.

  As we walked on in silence, taking in the sights of downtown Detroit, I was stunned. I'd only been in Tibet for three months, but in that span of time things had continued moving forward. New advertisements had sprung up, new businesses. The city had continued on without me, hadn't paused on my behalf. I made the familiar walk, wondering what other changes I might take in on the way. Hell, for all I knew, my apartment complex had been bulldozed, my car stolen, my vinyl pawned off.

  I was so deep into my thoughts that I nearly overlooked the apartment complex as it loomed up in the distance. The sight of it, with its unattractive brick exterior and dim windows, seemed strangely inviting. I broke into a jog, my hands and feet numb with cold, and cut into the parking lot. Kubo had promised to take care of all of my affairs while I was gone, to make sure I didn't return home to find someone else living in my apartment. If he didn't keep up with my rent, I swear I'll be knocking on his door for shelter tonight.

  My Corvette, the beautiful girl, was parked outside my building. I walked up to it, running my hand against the cold body and grinning. I couldn't wait to go for a drive in her again, maybe take a road trip. I looked in through the windows and found the vehicle untampered with. It was just the way I'd left it.

  Thank goodness nothing happened to her while I was gone...

  And then I saw it.

  Upon perusing the backside of the car, I found a deep dent in the left rear fender.

  “What the fuck!” I dropped to one knee, appraising the damage closely and wondering which of the mouth-breathing tenants had bumped into it. I glanced around the parking lot, shivering not with cold, but anger, as if I expected the culprit to wander out into the open. “Who did this to you, baby?” I cooed, running my hands against the fender.

  Germaine groaned. “Oh, boy. There goes the resale value. Ain't no buffing that one out.”

  “Shut the hell up,” I snapped. “If you don't have anything useful to add, be quiet.”

  “Eh,” replied Germaine, “I know a guy who can fix it for you, cheap. Does good work. Runs a bodyshop out of the Underground. Could refer you to him, if you want. Insurance won't even go up.”

  “R-really?” I asked.

  “Sure, kiddo. Course... come to think of it, he doesn't take cash or credit. Prefers to get paid in human souls. Ya know, I take it back. He's a scary guy. Forget I said anything. Better off trying your luck with one of the repair places down the road,” said Germaine.

  Incensed, I marched into the building and rifled through my bag for my keys. Stomping up the stairs to the second level, I approached my door, fully expecting to see an eviction notice or someone else's welcome mat outside. Thankfully however, my key still worked and, upon entering, I found my things very much still in order.

  In fact, as I flicked on the light in the living room, I noticed that everything was in the exact same spot I'd left it. I gulped down months-old air, feeling as though the setting had been preserved in amber. The surfaces all wore a light layer of dust, but nothing had been moved as far as I could tell. Ther
e were even a few dishes still in the sink, a few crumbs on the floor from the German chocolate cake Germaine had ruined.

  The spider leapt from my sleeve and skittered across the floor towards the couch. Dive-bombing onto the cushions, he burrowed beneath one of the accent pillows. “You know, big guy, I could do with a little Netflix tonight. They got The Office on there? I love that fuckin' show.”

  “Uh... depends. You talking about the original, or the US remake?” I asked.

  His eight eyes widened. “Y-you mean to tell me there's an American version?” He motioned towards the screen. “I had no idea. Hurry up and gimme that remote. It's gonna be a long fuckin' night.”

  “Knock yourself out,” I said, tossing the TV remote onto the sofa. “I'm going to lay down for a little bit. In a proper bed.” Back in Tibet, I'd been forced to sleep every night on a thin cushion. No blankets or pillows. Now that I was home, I wasn't going to miss out on the opportunity to curl up in a real bed. I charged off towards the bedroom at once.

  Climbing into my dusty, unmade bed felt utterly sinful. I kicked off my sneakers, peeled off the fur coat and monk's robes and dove under the covers.

  Even as I did so, I found my heart still hadn't calmed down. Oh, I was still pretty pissed that someone had dinged my car, make no mistake about that. But that wasn't what was setting the demon off. No, Gadreel had been raging ever since we'd been walking through the alleys with Ernie in search of his imagined flying monster. He'd never stopped, in fact.

  Pushing aside the dread and just allowing my tired body to sink into the mattress, I managed to drift off to sleep without too much effort.

  * * * * *

  My phone woke me up. Not at all used to the jarring ringtone of my work-issue phone, I shot up at once, falling out of bed and groping blindly for the black clamshell within the folds of my discarded fur coat. When I finally opened it and uttered a groggy “hello”, I expected to hear Kubo barking at me.

  Instead, it was Joe. “Hey, Lucy, you just waking up?” He laughed. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake ya. I tried calling your cell earlier, but it went right to voicemail. The battery dead or something?”

  I grunted. Hadn't had the chance to charge the damn thing yet. “What's up?” I asked, running a palm over my face and glancing at my alarm clock. It was well into the afternoon.

  “Not much,” continued Joe. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come over to my place. My mom's making spaghetti and it's almost done. Figured you might appreciate a good meal.”

  I perked up. “Spaghetti? Y-yeah, yeah, totally. I'll be over in a few.” His mom's spaghetti was incredible, a religious experience, and even in my sleepy state I knew better than to pass up the opportunity.

  I hung up and limped out of my room, chugging an entire bottle of water in the kitchen before seeking out Germaine. He'd fallen asleep in front of the TV, his limbs sprawled out upon the cushions and his breathing shallow. His eyes blinked up at me as I entered. “You sleep good, Lucy?” he asked, yawning.

  “Yeah,” I replied, combing a hand through my hair. “Listen, you gonna be OK in here? I'm gonna go meet Joe for dinner at his place.”

  Germaine scanned the room for a moment. “I mean... I guess I'll get by OK until you come back. I'll probably be able to find some dead bugs or something to eat. But why not let me come with?”

  I headed back into my bedroom, starting through my closet for some clean clothes. “Sorry, bub. You aren't much of a dinner date.”

  “Fair enough,” came the spider's reply. “Mind if I break into your stash of booze, then? This Friends marathon is about to get loco!”

  I grinned, plugging my phone into its charger and pulling on a black T-shirt. “Just don't burn the place down.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  7

  The pasta, as expected, was incredible. Cooked to al-dente perfection and served with a side of crusty garlic bread, Joe and I ate like we'd never tasted food before, managing to polish off a six-pack of Heineken in the process.

  Joe's mother came downstairs to handle the dishes while the two of us clutched at our guts, and I was stunned at the improvements to her condition. When I'd first met Joe's mother, she'd been forced to get around with a cane, had appeared sickly and weak. Now, she'd ditched the cane and, save for a slight limp, appeared the very picture of health.

  “Lucian, it's good to see you,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed the food. There's plenty extra, in case you want to take home leftovers.”

  I sported a saucy grin. “I'd be more than happy to take some of this delicious food off of your hands!” Clearing my throat, I added, “You're looking really well.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I've been feeling like new these past few months. Joe there managed to get me into a new clinical trial, and the medication they're giving me is really working a treat. I have an appointment with my Oncologist next week, and I expect he'll be stunned by my results.”

  Later on, when she'd stepped out to run an errand, I asked Joe a bit more about his mother's newfound vitality. He'd mentioned before something about receiving a tincture from Mona that would treat his mother's aggressive bone cancer. “A clinical trial, huh?” I whistled. “Is that what you're calling Mona's treatments now?”

  Joe grinned. “Well, what did you want me to tell her? That I got the stuff from an ancient snake-lady? It wouldn't have gone over well.”

  “At least it's working.” I polished off the last of my beer and twisted around in my seat till my back cracked. “She looks like a new woman. I almost didn't recognize her.”

  Joe nodded, regarding his empty bottle with what I could only guess was sadness. “Yeah, she sure does.” Then, he paused. “You know, Mona made sure to let me know that the tincture isn't a cure.” He paused again; a longer one this time. Then, he drew in a shaky breath. “It gives her more time, more strength. But it isn't going to wipe the cancer out. Mona's still... working on that.”

  “I see.” Pushing aside our empties, I decided to change the subject to something less gloomy. “Man, it's weird being back. In the States, I mean. Everything is so completely different here. The bustle of the city is almost too much for me to take. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm beginning to miss the quiet of Tibet. Things over there were predictable, peaceful. Here... here things are just so damn noisy, you know?”

  The stone temple I'd called my home for three months was thousands of miles away, but whenever I closed my eyes and grew mindful of my breathing, I felt like I was there again. It's funny. The whole time I was there, I was pining for home, for good ol' Detroit. Now that I was back in the city though, I was almost ready to hop on a plane and head back.

  Almost. There are definite perks to living in the modern world; flush toilets, for example. God, how I'd missed them. But monastery life had grown on me in an unexpected way. Back there, I'd just been another monk in the temple. No one really paid me special attention, regarded me with either warmth or coldness. Here, though, I was definitely feeling a change in how people perceived me.

  Upon returning home, I'd felt unwelcome. The shakeup in the Veiled Order's ranks was likely to thank for that. This Nicholaus Arson fellow was looking forward to policing my every move, and Kubo had made it clear I'd have to be on my best behavior. I felt like a prisoner here, rather than a member of the team. During the fight against Agamemnon, everyone had stressed to me the importance of working within the team. Arson had apparently missed that memo.

  Joe stood up from the table, pacing around the kitchen a few minutes before checking the time on his phone. “Hey, wanna go catch a movie? We can probably still swing the matinee price if we leave now.”

  Before I could reply, the chirping of our work-issue phones interrupted me. The two of us found a text waiting there from Chief Kubo. There was an address, along with the words, “Hurry up.” I snapped the phone closed and pocketed it, lumbering away from the table, my shirt fitting a little tighter around the gut for all of the past
a I'd just eaten. “Guess that movie will have to wait. The Chief has other plans.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  8

  The address Kubo had sent us corresponded to one of the alleys downtown. More specifically, to the stretch of alleys we'd explored the previous night, with Ernie. The Chief met us near the Steak N' Shake and then led us through the labyrinthine network of alleys, weaving between old buildings, till we found ourselves standing behind a shuttered cosmetics store. There were a handful of Veiled Order commandos in the area, chatting over their radios and standing sentry. They probably wanted to keep everyday people from wandering towards whatever it was the Chief wanted us to see. He waved us towards the end of the alley, where a rusted dumpster sat, teeming with old trash. “Have a look, fellas.”

  Joe and I approached slowly, and we hadn't made it more than a couple of steps in when I saw the edge of a black shoe. A pale foot sat in said shoe, which was linked to an unmoving leg. The remainder of the scene took a bit longer to process, however.

  To make a long story short, Kubo had brought us in to check out the corpse of a woman. But this wasn't any ordinary corpse, not some woman who'd been violently mugged or had a heart attack while doing her shopping. The overwhelming bulk of her midsection was missing, the raw, red cavern of her body having congealed and frozen for the winter air. The skin had been cleaved away savagely, and though I was no expert, it looked to me like a single attack had knocked this woman's abdomen away. If you've ever seen a victim of a lethal shark attack, you'll have some notion of what it was we were seeing.

  And goddamn was it an awful sight a mere half hour after pounding several plates of spaghetti and meatballs. I really needed to stop eating so damn much before heading into work. Joe started to gag, supporting himself against the dumpster as I turned to the Chief. “And... what have we here?”