Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) (13 page)

“Every zombie in the joint is going to know exactly where we are now,” said Percy, looking into the woods with a grimace. “We should have just phoned the necromancer ahead of time and told him we were stopping by.”

“It was loud, sure, but it was, like... a natural phenomenon. It didn't give us away!” I argued. “Stuff like that happens sometimes, you know? Lightning... it... it's been known to strike trees sometimes, goddammit! And, you know, maybe these zombie scouts just got caught in an act of God. If I were Agamemnon I wouldn't just automatically assume that some handsome, demonic badass zapped them all--”

Except that, come to think of it, I'd already used my lightning trick in front of the necromancer. Twice.

Kanta pointed beyond the wreckage, to a break in the trees. From deep in the woods I could see a mass of shambling bodies approaching us. I didn't even want to guess at how deep it was, but from the glimpse I took I had to agree with the initial assessment that there were more than a hundred. Perhaps
hundreds
, in fact. “Seems that crowd wasn't too impressed with your trick,” she said.

The guide looked down at his rifle, then to me. “Because of you we're going to have a real mother of a fight on our hands. What the hell is your problem? Why did you think that was OK? If we fail here it's going to be your fault, demon.”

He had a point. I didn't want their blood on my hands. There was enough blood on them already. So the only option I had was to sleep in the bed I'd made. To crush the incoming swarm of aggressors. Giving Gadreel a little more slack, I took on a fighting stance and watched as the incoming horde began to run towards us. “It's just as well,” I growled. “Give them hell. Make them wish they'd never left the grave to begin with.”

SIXTEEN

Kanta joined me up front, running her hands over the neat braid she wore.

“Not the best time for preening,” I said. “Don't tell me, are you going to try and exorcise the zombies? I'm still not sure what your narrow skill set is going to offer, but I'll try and keep you out of harm's way. Stand back-- I'd rather kill you myself when this is all over, after all.”

“Shut up,” was all she said before she forcibly yanked a strand of hair from her head. This she held out before her for an instant, and I watched in awe as it transformed into a long, silver trident. The thing was a single, dense length of sharply-crafted metal and would have looked at home in the fist of a giant Poseidon statue. Holding the fearsome weapon out towards the incoming horde, she began to run at them them like a jouster.

Shit. I didn't like her, but I had to say right then that Kanta had balls, meeting the enemy head-on. Percy ran into battle behind her, his blade shining in the firelight.

From behind, I heard the familiar click of Joe's Zippo. “You've done it now, Lucy,” he said, gritting his teeth. “When we're done here I'm going to kick your ass. No, better yet, I'm going to let Kubo do it. The Chief's going to murder you, you know that, right?”

I grinned. “Nah. When I'm through here, ol' Kubo's going to be kissing my feet. Guarantee it.”

Gunfire. Lots of it. The report of a dozen or more guns all around us filled the woods. I watched as waves of silvery bullets tore through the cloud of zombies descending upon us. Dead people of all ages, races and genders were represented in the mix, each of them united in the goal of destroying us. The bullets broke apart their bodies and drew some awful cries of pain, but we were going to need more than bullets to get the job done.

My first target was a smaller specimen, awfully preserved and mostly skeletal. I knocked it to the ground and stomped its head to pieces. Two zombies ran up to replace it, and to each of them I offered an open palm to the face. Their skulls snapped open with the force of the blow.

Further ahead I spotted a pair of zombies rising over the rest, their bodies skewered on the end of a long trident. Kanta brought them down against the ground with a shout, and when their bodies struck the soil they broke apart. She kept the others at bay with a wide sweep of her weapon, the sharpened tips catching several would-be attackers in the neck.

Percy was no slouch, either. That sword of his was the perfect weapon for cutting down the undead. He worked the thing like Sonny Chiba in an old samurai flick, splitting rotten skulls and chopping necks with clean, almost robotic strokes. He'd finish one off, give a half-turn, and strike down the next before it could even reach out for him.

Standing beside me was Joe. He manipulated the flame spewing from his lighter and turned it into a makeshift flamethrower, charring everything in his path. I could feel the heat pouring off of the crumbling bodies before us.

I was impressed. I probably shouldn't have been. These guys
were
professionals. The Veiled Order was paying them for a reason. While drop-kicking one of the undead into the distance, I couldn't help but think we made a pretty good team.

There. I said it. They all knew what they were doing, had their shit together. Personal feelings aside, it was good to have them in my corner.

From the rear things weren't going so hot, though. We'd been focusing on pressing forward, making the zombies give up ground. The shouts of the commandos behind me revealed the flaws in that plan, though. Troopers screamed as groups of zombies closed in from behind. We'd been surrounded without realizing it. The undead were now creeping in from every corner, and they quickly began laying waste to the commandos. I watched as a few men were torn limb from limb by the shambling monstrosities. When dealing with these numbers the troopers could only score so many clean head-shots; at this proximity they'd have been better off fighting hand-to-hand. With their incredible physical strength, the zombies were a lot better at that than they were, though.

Some of the commandos dropped their guns and yanked Ka-Bars from their scabbards. The blades severed heads with ease, but again, the troopers weren't fast or strong enough to beat back the mass of zombies that'd encroached upon them. We'd walked into the woods with something like fifteen guys in tow. Now we had less than ten, and every minute that passed we seemed poised to lose even more.

I left Joe's side and yanked a few troopers away from the zombies they were engaged with. These guys were going to get themselves completely routed. They needed backup. “Hold on!” I shouted, cleaving through the nearest thrall and giving its busted spine a good tug. These guys had been placed under my control. They were my responsibility. Already some of them were dying, and it was all because of what I'd done. I forced them all back so that they were standing between me and Joe and went to work.

No one else was going to die on this mission. I wouldn't allow it.

Teeth rattled in hollowed skulls like dice in a Yahtzee shaker as I delivered a relentless flurry. Going at it this hard was tough even for me; I felt like I'd been swinging for hours and the heat coming off of the burning trees was making me overheat. My eyes stung as fat drops of sweat washed over my face. One cheeky bastard with a half-eroded countenance darted in from the side and tried to tackle me. I reached out and slapped him in the ear. That was a dirty move I'd learned to use in street fights.

I about barfed when the slimy ear simply slid off of his head.

The sheer number of zombies was overwhelming. If you think about it, we were meeting practically every person that'd ever lived and died in Detroit and still had a body that could be resurrected. While bashing in heads, I remembered just what that meant.

My brother, Conrad, might be out there. In fact, by this point, he probably was. Agamemnon had been at the very graveyard where he was buried. I hoped I wouldn't run into him. If anything would take the wind out of my sails and serve as a terrible distraction, it would be having to kill my zombified brother.

“Joe,” I screamed, shoving a handful of zombies away and building up a little breathing room, “light them up. Go wild! Start tossing fireballs, man. Do something!”

He turned to me, shaking his head. His flamethrower had been reduced in scope; either his lighter was running out of fuel or he was having trouble keeping the spell going. “No,” he replied, toasting a rampaging pair of hissing, child-sized creatures. “I can't. I'll burn the whole fucking park down. We've already got some fires going here. If I do much more we're going to burn to death and destroy the entire area.”

I don't often roll my eyes in the heat of battle, but that reply of his made me do just that. “Jesus, man. This isn't the time for tree-hugging. Torch the place. Bambi will find someplace else to live!”

“There are houses nearby, Lucy. The fire could spread to the surrounding neighborhoods. I can't do it. I won't. We need to pull back and get some support from the Order.”

His suggestion that we fall into retreat disgusted me. Oh, we were in the shit all right. No doubt about that. We'd lost several men and were facing incredible odds, but pulling out with my tail between my legs wasn't what I'd planned on doing when we showed up.

Percy and Kanta fought their way back towards us, and the exorcist's views were not much different than Joe's. Her face was dripping in sweat, and her braid had become tousled. The edges of her sari, too, had been torn ragged. “Pull back!” she shouted, waving her trident. “There are too many. We pushed on ahead but there are too damn many. We'll never make it. We could stand out here and fight till morning and never kill them all.”

With slower, less effective slashes than he'd earlier employed, Percy pressed his back to hers and chopped away a cluster of reaching hands. The guy had started off strong, but he was fast-approaching the breaking point.

“Lead the way, Lucy!” yelled Joe, stumbling as he took a few steps backwards. “Lead us out of here!”

The remaining soldiers were shouting into their radios, but whether their calls would be answered remained to be seen. It would take time before the Veiled Order could send us more backup. And even then, more dudes with guns weren't going to be effective. A team with flamethrowers would present the same problem that Joe had mentioned-- namely, burning down the park and everyone in or around it. I thought about raining some more lightning down on the scene, grinding the monsters into gooey black paste with the heat of a million suns... but I stopped short. First of all, do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pull that off? I'd already done it a few times in one night, and I had an inkling that Gadreel had a limit to how many times he could use that ability. Second, I had no interest in accidentally smiting Joe or the others.

The choice was pretty clear. We needed to fight our way out of the woods, break away from the horde and build some distance. That was the only way we'd get out of this alive.

Even so, I
still
didn't want to leave. I felt like we'd come too far for that, that the necromancer was surely in the vicinity. We'd been told that the zombies couldn't wander too far from their master, and we'd zeroed in on what appeared to be the bulk of his flock. Agamemnon
had
to be around here somewhere. If we left now we'd lose our chance to kill him and end this. If we stayed, though, there was always a chance that he'd turn up.

As if in answer to a malign prayer, I caught sight of something standing head and shoulders above the crowd of zombies, just beyond the line of burning trees. I'd have recognized that long hood, those piercing eyes, just about anywhere.

He
was
here. The necromancer himself had shown up after all. I gulped, my stomach swirling with dread. There was red hot excitement surging in my veins, though. Gadreel took notice at once, my heart throbbing spasmodically in my chest. The demon wanted to fight. He wanted to even the score.

I pointed over at Agamemnon. “Hey, look who just showed up! If it isn't the necromancer himself.”

The dark silhouette of Agamemnon loomed closer. The guy took long, slow steps, the sea of zombies parting as he approached. There was a sudden lull in the fighting. The undead halted their assault and stood back as the self-proclaimed king of the dead made his appearance.

Seven commandos joined Joe, Kanta, Percy and I in a tight formation. That was what remained of our forces after the short but savage fight. The commandos fixed Agamemnon in their sights, but I pushed their guns away. “No. Don't you dare,” I snarled. “This one's mine.”

SEVENTEEN

It was Percy who warned me first. His tone, between all of the panting, was one of genuine concern. Maybe he thought I was stupid and felt bad about having me march off to what he figured was certain death. Maybe, like Joe, he bought into all of that team spirit talk and, even though he disliked me, didn't want me to die. Whatever the case, he grabbed my arm and gave a firm shake of his head. “No way, don't do it. You don't stand a chance.” The blade he held was every bit as bright and clean as it had been at the battle's start, but its wielder was looking rough. “We need to run. We got in over our heads, but if we get back to the cars we can call the Chief and maybe--”

I shrugged him off. “Don't interfere. Instead, why don't you make yourself useful and cut down any undead who wander into the fray, huh?”

Agamemnon rested on his scythe, his pale face looking like a mask. The necromancer smirked. “I didn't expect to find
you
here, demon. And it would appear you've led your friends into the heart of my trap as well. A fine catch, this. It's unfortunate that you insist on meddling when you were fortunate enough to escape once already. I think there's a word for that.
Stupidity?
” He laughed. As he reared back, I noticed that his face was unwounded. Even though I'd doused it in acid spit just a while ago, any wounds I'd left behind had healed fully.

That didn't bode well. That acid spit of mine had been more than enough to kill lesser men. Did the scythe give Agamemnon the ability to heal his wounds, too?

I didn't give myself time to think it over. Thinking too much would've given me cold feet. Instead, I rushed in and sent a haymaker his way.

The horde of zombies scarcely moved as our fight began. Joe and the others stood on the sidelines, too, their gazes shifting between the battle and the countless undead who might, at any moment, spring back into action.