Rise of the Demon Lords, page 11
“Something wrong?” Jonny asked.
“No, this is the place. I just assumed from his suit that he might have lived somewhere nicer.”
“Maybe he spent all his money on clothes. Good part about being in the army, they provide all the clothes you’ll ever need. Let’s go see who’s home. I really hope there aren’t kids.”
“Me too. Death notifications are something I’ll never get used to. Usually I’m the junior officer and all I have to do is stand quietly. This is my first time as lead.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s my first time going to a notification, so we’ll figure it out together.”
They crossed the street and climbed the stairs in front of the left-side door. She knocked and a few seconds later a haggard woman with dark skin and frazzled hair opened the door.
The woman took one look at Officer Sif and said, “He overdosed, didn’t he? I knew Amelio would end up like this. I warned him, you know. Over and over.”
“No, ma’am, he didn’t overdose.” Officer Sif said. “He collapsed at a cafe called The Pig and Chicken. By the time the ambulance arrived it was too late.”
Jonny thought that was a gentle way of describing what happened, but he kept his hands clasped and his mouth shut. In the army you got lots of practice doing that.
“Maybe it wasn’t an overdose, but the drugs must have caused whatever happened to him.”
“Would it be okay if we came in, Mrs. Lopez?” Officer Sif asked. “If you tell us more, maybe we can find whoever sold your husband the drugs that killed him.”
She slumped in the doorway and shifted to one side, just enough to let them pass. Clearly her husband had put her through a lot. Jonny had never seen anyone as exhausted as she looked. He had no idea what he could say to help so he stayed silent.
They went to a modest living room and sat on the couch facing Mrs. Lopez, who perched on a chair and looked like nothing so much as a bird ready to leap into the air at the slightest hint of danger. All around no decorations covered either the wall or the shelves of a nearly empty bookcase. The place seemed less like a home than a rental. There was no personality.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Officer Sif asked.
She laughed, humorless and bitter. “The beginning? Well, when we got married he was a sweet, honest, hardworking guy. Nothing glamorous, Amelio sold insurance, but it put food on the table. At least it did until the company switched to a commission model. That didn’t suit his style and the pressure built. I don’t know who sold him the first joint, but he quickly graduated to cocaine. It gave him energy and he made more sales, but he snorted most of the extra money. Things have been going downhill for a while now.”
“You have no idea who his supplier was?” Officer Sif asked.
“No, though my guess is someone at his office. What could be a better place to sell cocaine?”
“Where did he work exactly?”
“Goodway Insurance. They’re in a building downtown. I can look up the address for you.”
Mrs. Lopez started to get up but Officer Sif waved her back down. “We can find it, thank you. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Mrs. Lopez slumped back in her chair. “I lost him a long time ago. This just makes it official.”
“Can we call someone for you?”
Mrs. Lopez shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Please lock the door on your way out.”
Jonny stood and followed Officer Sif out, locking the door behind him. “That was depressing.”
“No kidding. Let’s go see what’s happening at the insurance office.”
“Sounds good, Officer.” Jonny got in the squad car and closed the door.
“You can call me Diane.” She started the car and set out across town.
Luckily the streets weren’t terribly busy and they made good time. Two blocks out from the office, they ran into a line of cars stopped in the street.
“What’s this about?” Jonny asked
“Beats me.” Diane grabbed her radio, called in to the station and gave the address. “What’s going on down here?”
“There’s been an incident at Goodway Insurance, multiple casualties. Survivors indicate a supernatural element. SWAT augmented by wizards is preparing to breach.”
“This can’t be a coincidence,” Jonny said.
“No.” Diane flipped her siren on and they inched through the slowly forming gap. “Whatever’s happening, we need to be there.”
Jonny nodded, but he had a really bad feeling.
19
Ten blocks from the so-called safe house, Old Man pulled over beside a park. It wasn’t terribly impressive, just a square of grass with a trio of picnic tables and a sand box. Their shot-up SUV was still running, though barely. In the back seat, his new slaves sat in total silence. A normal person probably would have found it unnerving. Miguel just ignored them and focused on the next step in his task.
“Why did we stop?” Miguel asked.
“Don Carlos lives in a penthouse near the city center. We can’t drive into that part of the city in a car that looks like this. We need to find a replacement.”
Miguel looked up and down the street. There wasn’t a car in sight. Across the street were a few dark, closed-up stores, but that was it. “And you chose this place to abandon the car why?”
“No security cameras, no witnesses. I know it isn’t ideal, Master, but this is the safest place.”
Miguel believed him, but out of curiosity asked, “How do you know that?”
“We dump cars in this area all the time. One of our guys smashes any cameras they install the same day. Nobody’s bothered with a new one in months.”
“Be that as it may,” Miguel said. “It gets us no closer to new transportation.”
A loud metal clatter filled the air behind them. Someone had raised a door and light shone out.
“Hey!” A shadow passed in front of the light as a shouting man emerged waving a baseball bat. “I’ve had enough of you punks ditching your cars in front of my place. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Now you’re going to get it.”
Miguel turned to the left-hand thrall. “Kill him and see if there’s a car behind that door.”
The killer climbed out of the SUV, pulled his pistol, and fired a single round through the angry fellow’s head, dropping him on the spot. Holstering his pistol, the thrall disappeared into the building.
Miguel shook his head at the waste. He should have said to kill him with his bare hands or a bite so a new thrall would be born. That was the problem with the stupid things. If you weren’t precise with your orders, the results could be iffy at best.
Happily, a moment later a motor roared to life and an old-fashioned car with fins on its rear panels backed out of the door. “Not exactly subtle, but at least there’re no bullet holes in it. Let’s go.”
They swapped cars and were on their way again. Old Man had taken the driver’s seat since he was the one that knew where they were going. Miguel paid no attention to the city around them. He hadn’t used this much magic since his battle with the necromancer. That battle had left him tired, but this time he felt fine.
You’re getting used to your new abilities and your body is adapting to the dark magic coursing through you. Over time your control over your power will continue to grow. Never forget this is a long game and you can’t win if you’re dead. Keep your risks to a minimum.
Miguel frowned. He’d yet to encounter anything in the city he considered a real threat. He seriously doubted the thugs’ guns would have harmed him much. He didn’t know for sure, but it was a feeling he got. He felt stronger than he’d ever imagined possible.
Around fifteen minutes after swapping cars, Old Man pulled out of traffic and down a ramp into a parking garage built beneath a towering apartment building. It had to be forty stories if it was one. After a couple laps, they found a parking space and pulled in.
Miguel climbed out of the car and asked, “Where to now?”
“The boss has a private elevator to the top floor,” one of the failed assassins said. “There’s a camera and if they don’t recognize you, the door won’t open.”
“Prudent. Lead the way.” Miguel fell in behind the assassins and Old Man brought up the rear carrying the box holding the Black Eternals.
When they rounded a corner the assassin said, “Wait here. If the guards see you, they won’t activate the elevator.”
Miguel stepped back and waited. Under other circumstances he might have feared betrayal, but those two were incapable of betraying him; his magic prevented it. There were voices but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. As long as they got the doors open, he didn’t care what they said.
At last a chime sounded and an assassin said, “Master, the elevator is here.”
Miguel and Old Man hurried around the corner and the four of them stepped into the elevator. It was paneled in gold and the floor was covered in hardwood. The elevator was nicer than the shack Miguel used to live in back home.
There were no buttons and as soon as the doors closed they started up. The ride was silent and despite his considerable abilities, Miguel found himself getting anxious. He stomped mercilessly down on the feeling. He was the Chosen of Baphomet and no drug-pushing thug was a match for him.
Still, as the voice said, better safe than sorry. Miguel shifted and pressed his back flat against the wall so any incoming fire wouldn’t hit him.
It was well that he did.
The instant they stopped and the door chimed open, a deafening hail of gunfire slammed into the back wall, much of it passing through his new thralls. Happily they were undeterred by such weak attacks.
His assassins drew their weapons and returned fire.
Miguel sensed something he’d never felt before.
Someone’s casting a spell. Protect yourself.
Miguel wrapped himself and Old Man in a cocoon of vines an instant before a river of fire filled the elevator.
As the flames tried to consume his vines, he felt his strength draining to maintain them.
Lucky for him, his opponent ran out of power first and the flames vanished.
Focusing on the lifeforms he sensed beyond the elevator, he began his counterattack. Vines lashed out from every direction, their thorns shredding flesh and sending bodies to the floor.
Satisfied that he would face no more opposition, Miguel lowered the vine barrier and stepped out of the elevator. In a grand entry hall beyond the doors, eight bodies lay unmoving on the floor, their once-fine clothes reduced to tatters. Bright light poured in from deeper in the apartment.
Vines crisscrossed the room making him think of the jungle on the necromancer’s island. Where did they come from way up here? He was hundreds of feet from anything resembling earth.
The vines don’t grow. You summon them directly from Baphomet’s hell. When they appear, it’s through a magical portal.
No wonder it took so much energy to use them.
“It’s safe,” Miguel said. “Come out here and tell me if one of these people is the boss.”
Old Man joined him and quickly looked over the bodies. “No, Master, he isn’t here. Neither is the wizard that attacked us.”
“How can you tell?”
“The bodies are all men. Aside from one, I’ve never heard of another male wizard.”
What Miguel knew about wizards, male or female, wouldn’t fill a very big book. The only one he’d ever heard spoken of was the necromancer and everyone regarded her as more of a myth than an actual person.
Miguel closed his eyes to better concentrate. His enemies had to be here somewhere.
His awareness wandered the apartment. There were six floors altogether. He went level by level, sensing nothing living as he went. At the top floor he frowned. There was one room he couldn’t penetrate. An invisible wall blocked his mind from entering. That seemed a likely place to check.
“Stay here. I think I found them.”
“Master—”
“Stay here and protect the Black Eternals. One slave more or less isn’t going to make any difference.”
Old Man lowered his gaze in submission.
Just beyond the entryway he found a set of steps and began climbing. There were landings at each level which he ignored until he reached the top floor. A door blocked him from moving beyond the landing. This was also the location of the barrier stopping his mental search. Perhaps there were more traps as well.
Moving well back from the landing, Miguel summoned a thick, pointed vine like a spear and crashed it into the door.
The wood exploded in a ball of flames. When the smoke dissipated the entrance was clear. He strode through, trying to look more confident than he felt.
The top floor was a single huge room. All four walls were made of glass and sunlight poured in. His eyes quickly adjusted but the glare made him nauseous. A slender man in a white suit sat behind a desk made of light-colored wood. He had dark skin and a perfectly trimmed goatee. Standing beside him was a woman dressed in a crimson robe, a wand surrounded by flames in her right hand. That would be the wizard.
“So, you’re the punk trying to take over my organization,” the boss said.
“I dislike the term ‘punk,’ but otherwise you’re correct. And you’re the one that sent those gunmen to kill me. Talk doesn’t interest me. You have two choices, submit to me or die.”
“Are you a wizard like Conryu Koda?” the woman asked.
Miguel didn’t know who that was. “I am a hellpriest of Baphomet. I’ll have your answer, now.”
She pointed the wand at Miguel and opened her mouth.
A vine burst through her open lips and out the back of her skull, killing her instantly.
There was an explosion and a dull pain filled Miguel’s chest. The boss had pulled a gun from his desk and fired. The flattened bullet clattered to the floor.
“That hurt.” Vines erupted from every direction, wrapping the boss up like a mummy until only his wide, frightened eyes were visible. “I guess I have my answer.”
Miguel walked over and stood beside the bound man. Vines wrapped them up and they vanished only to reappear a moment later on the first floor in a large sitting room beyond the entryway. More windows sent sunlight streaming in.
Grimacing, he willed vines to appear and cover every inch of the glass until blessed darkness filled the space. Letting out a sigh of relief, Miguel dropped into one of the couches. The ache in his chest was gone already. When he touched the spot where the bullet hit, the skin felt perfectly smooth. As he thought, normal weapons couldn’t hurt him.
But don’t assume any gun pointed at you is normal. An above-average wizard could infuse light magic into a bullet and if that hit you, it would do considerable damage.
Miguel appreciated the warning and getting shot hurt badly enough that he was in no hurry to repeat the experience even with a regular bullet.
With a thought, he summoned Old Man who quickly entered the dark living room. “Master, are you well?”
“Fine. And I found our man. Set the Black Eternals on the coffee table. It’s time to make plant food.”
20
After a great deal of honking and wailing of sirens, Jonny and Diane finally made it to the cordoned-off area around the insurance company’s office building. Three armored vehicles formed a semicircle around the entrance. Dozens of cops in uniform were directing people fleeing the building toward a holding area a safe distance away.
Every few seconds another group would come racing out of the building, hands raised, to be guided to safety. Shots rang out, drawing a scream from someone in the distance.
“Sounds like a war zone,” Jonny said.
Diane nodded and finally a uniformed officer lifted the yellow tape so she could drive under it.
Halfway through she rolled her window down. “Who’s in charge?”
“Captain Rutledge,” the officer said. “You can find him in the command trailer.”
“Thanks.” Diane pulled the rest of the way through and drove slowly to a semi trailer with antennas and a satellite dish sticking out of it. “We need to check in with the captain before we can talk to the survivors.”
“Do you know Rutledge?” Jonny asked.
“He’s the SWAT commander. We’ve never spoken, but he has a reputation as a good, if intense, cop.”
“Want me to wait here? I don’t want to butt into any police business.”
“No, you’d better come along. If he sees you poking around, it’ll be easier if you’ve already been introduced. Besides, our work has the blessing of the police commissioner and your base commander, so there shouldn’t be any issues.”
In Jonny’s experience, whenever more than one person was in charge, there were always issues. But this was Diane’s show and if she thought it best that he meet the captain, he’d go along.
She parked behind the trailer and they got out. Around front, an officer stood in front of the door. Diane brushed past him, but when Jonny tried to join her the guard shifted to block him.
“No civilians,” he said.
“Private Salazar isn’t a civilian,” Diane said. “I’m working on a joint investigation with the military. Now step aside, we need to speak with Captain Rutledge.”
The officer didn’t look happy about it, but he did move out of the way.
Jonny followed Diane up the steps and into a long room filled with more computers and screens than he’d ever seen in one place. Uniformed officers manned six stations while a tall, broad-shouldered man sporting a crew cut that wouldn’t have drawn a complaint on the base watched a set of monitors. On them were camera views from what Jonny assumed were the SWAT teams dealing with the creatures that had appeared in the building.
A blast of flames appeared on one of the screens, confirming Jonny’s guess.
Diane cleared her throat and Captain Rutledge finally turned to face them. A deep scowl creased his craggy face. “What?”
“Officer Diane Sif reporting in. My new partner and I are investigating the appearance of one of the new creatures. The victim worked in this building. We wanted to speak with any survivors.”
