Raw Power: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demon-Hearted Book 1) (7 page)

 
The guy looked Japanese, and with a surname like Kubo he almost certainly was. He was bigger and stockier than any Japanese guy I'd ever met, though; a bit taller than me and
far
more muscular. I made my living roughing people up, but this guy walked on higher ground. Power radiated off of him in great peals like invisible thunder. Just sitting across from him was enough to get a taste.

Kubo tugged at the collar of his shirt and yanked off his jacket. Then, rolling up his sleeves and revealing forearms of incredible thickness, he glanced me over narrowly. “You remember anything about last night? Where you went, what you did?”

 
I pursed my lips, shaking my head. I couldn't remember a damn thing, though if my run-in with the cops that morning had been any indication, then I'd gotten up to something mighty bad. Up to that point I'd only ever been arrested once. Bought some weed in high school and got picked up by a family friend who was a cop. They threw me in the county lockup overnight to try and scare me straight. It didn't work; if anything else, it only taught me to act more discrete when making transactions of that kind. My encounter with the police that morning, however, had been completely different. Those cops hadn't planned to just arrest me, to take me downtown and let me sit in a cell with a bunch of other criminals. They seemed like they'd been planning to gun me down on the spot, put me down like a rabid animal. I got shivers just thinking about how close I'd walked that line. Shit, I
still
do, to this day.

“The demon in you took over,” he said. “It was the night of the new moon. This was to be expected. We should have locked you in the containment room, but the doctor wasn't sure whether you were stable enough to make the transfer. I guess you were. The Veiled Order will handle the legal issues; don't worry about last night. We'll need to be more careful in the future, however.”

I didn't need him to tell me the demon had taken over. I could still remember the moment the thing had gained full control, the moment I'd leapt from the window of the hospital.

Glancing around the room, I asked Kubo a question of my own. “What is this Veiled Order everyone keeps talking about? No one's given me a great answer, yet I get the impression that I'm on their payroll now. What's up with that? And, uh... if they're so damn important, what are they doing hanging around Detroit of all places?”

 
“The Veiled Order is older than any of us can say. It has descended from secret societies throughout history, and its core members are comprised of a lineage that has ruled since times immemorial. The Order has its fingers in every pie you can imagine; every field of influence, be it government, finance, biomedical research... the list goes on. When tinfoil-hat wearing kooks talk about secret societies pulling the strings, the man behind the curtain, it ain't the Bilderberg Group or the Trilateral Commission. Not the Illuminati, either. The real manipulators, the
only
ones, are the members of the Veiled Order. Nothing of real import happens in this world that they don't know about. They've got their ear to the ground constantly and have such a wide network of members and associates that it gives me a headache just trying to describe it.” Smirking, he added, “And Detroit? Well, ain't it just the perfect place for all of this secret shit? No one would ever think to look in Michigan for the high-ranking members of a secret society. Think about it, Lucy.”

I didn't really know what to say, so I didn't say anything at all. Instead, I just shifted my thighs uncomfortably, trying to get over the cold spot that plagued the front of my shorts. Didn't they have a shower in this joint? A change of clothes?

“The mission of the Veiled Order is to protect humanity from what dwells in the Beyond. There is a veil that exists between this world and the next, and sometimes, that veil thins out, grows weak. Outsiders cross over. It's our job to beat back those outsiders and maintain the status quo. If not for us, then the species would have died out long ago.”

This was all a little hard to believe. “OK, that's pretty cool, I guess...” If what Kubo was saying was true-- and I guess I didn't really have any reason to doubt him, aside from the sheer enormity of this disclosure and its far-reaching implications-- then every other conspiracy theory I'd read about in the past seemed quaint by comparison. The JFK assassination? The moon landing? Who could possibly give a rat's ass about those when this group was keeping demons, witches and who knew what else hidden from the public?

“I bet you guys know a lot about conspiracies and such, eh? What about, say, Kennedy? Was it actually the guy on the grassy knoll, or...?”

Kubo arched a brow. “Actually, Kennedy was put down by a member of our organization. He'd infiltrated the highest ranks of the US government without the public realizing he wasn't human.”

I chortled. “What? JFK wasn't human?”

“No. A werewolf, as a matter of fact. The bullet that took him out was forged of pure silver and thoroughly blessed.”

“Huh.” I folded my hands in my lap and straightened out my gown a little bit. “Didn't expect that.” I looked around the room. “So, what are we doing in here? You think I might be able to shower or something?”

“We're getting straight to work,” he replied. “When we're through with this briefing, you'll be free to go, princess. Till then, you need to stay put.”

 
I grimaced.
Awesome. One minute I'm getting possessed by a demon. The next, I'm getting shaken down by murderous cops. And now it's time to punch the clock and pretend that none of that happened.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” bellowed Kubo.

From the hall there entered two individuals. First was a girl, very thin and slightly hunched. She was dressed in a bizarre outfit; it looked like a burlap sack with a hood sewn onto it. There were some designs embroidered onto the rough-looking fabric in black thread, but they were chaotic and bespoke an unpracticed hand. Long, black hair escaped the edges of this hood and framed her youthful face. Glassy eyes looked into the room, blinking rapidly. Though she looked rather young, perhaps a teenager, she stooped and ambled about like an old woman. She said nothing, but slowly navigated her way to a seat. Then, sitting down, she began to twitch and mumble to herself.

The other individual, a young guy, looked like a greaser straight out of an old movie. His brown hair was swept back with a thick layer of pomade, and his thin frame was draped in a well-worn leather jacket. A pair of ratty jeans, a pristine wife beater and a pair of black boots with pointy, silver tips completed his ensemble. I could see a switchblade tucked into his back pocket. He leaned against the other end of the table, nodding to Kubo and appraising me frigidly. “Who's this guy?” he asked, clicking his tongue. “He reeks of piss, chief. You hiring hobos now?”

Kubo smirked. “Sit down, Joe.” When Joe had splayed out into his seat with a sigh, Kubo stood and pointed at me. “This is Lucy. He's a new hire. The Demon Heart you've both heard about.”

My face reddened as the three of them squared me up. I had to admit, though-- “Demon Heart” was kind of a badass title.

 
Joe picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans and snickered. “
Lucy,
eh? The hell kinda name is that? They gave this pussy the demon's heart? Woulda made more sense to put it in Isabella over there, don'tcha think?”

The twitching girl with the glassy eyes turned to him, cocking her head to the side. “Isabella doesn't want a demon's heart, thank you.”

Either Isabella wasn't presently in the room or this weird-ass chick referred to herself in the third person. The latter seemed most likely.

“So, you're Joe,” I said, nodding to the greaser, “and you're Isabella?”

 
The two of them nodded, except that Joe had to take exception to something, assert his dominance. This would become a common theme with him, I could sense it even then. “Actually, the name's
Fire
Joe. But maybe I'll let you call me 'Joe' someday.”

 
I held back a chuckle, but my grin betrayed me. “
Fire
Joe? Why's that?”

Pulling a silver Zippo lighter from his pocket, Joe gave it a flip and switched it on. A small flame danced about, and to my horror, he held a fingertip over it for several seconds. When he finally drew his finger away, he reached out and took hold of my arm with his other hand, slowly tracing a line against the cuffs that still hung around my wrists. One after the other, the cuffs fell noisily to the table, the metal sheared apart easily, as if it were paper. It was incredible. The small line glowed, had been super-heated by his fingertip. It was like he'd gathered up the heat and then focused it in one spot. He was a human blowtorch. Rubbing at my wrists, I sat back in my chair. “H-how did you do that?”

Joe reclined, giving a toss of his shoulders and donning a satisfied smirk.

“We'll worry about that later,” said Kubo, crossing his arms. “You can get to know each other on your own time. I've called you all here to discuss something far more important: The details of a new case. This team has been assembled by the leaders of the Veiled Order, and I have been chosen to lead it on this mission to track down the coven of Mater Agatha. Pay close attention.” Fishing out a remote from a nearby cubby, Kubo dimmed the lights and switched on the projector.

Damn. I'd been conscious and in control of my body for, what, an hour? It seemed a little early to start slamming me with fresh work. I perched my chin atop the back of my hand and slumped forward as the briefing began.

ELEVEN

The Veiled Order, I'd been told, was committed to hunting down denizens of the “Beyond” who chose to meddle in human affairs.

I guess that made us like the Ghostbusters; killing zombies, beheading vampires and banishing frisky poltergeists.

But as Kubo began his brief presentation, I found myself annoyed at the lack of background details. Everyone else in the room seemed to know about this coven already, was comfortable with the idea that witches, demons and other baddies were as real as you and I. Me? I'd only just learned their names, had only gotten a proper explanation of the Veiled Order's mission statement moments ago. It was like being the new guy at the office; it was business as usual for everyone else, but I was going to have to work my ass off to keep up.

Kubo's slideshow was mostly there for illustrative purposes; he wasn't going to make us read detailed slides or anything. I gazed up at the screen and paid close attention, deciding to give this thing a proper shot, lest I appear any more clueless than I already did. When the first photo came across the screen however, I wished I hadn't looked.

“What the...” I muttered. It was a photograph of a room in a house. The fixtures looked old; there was a table, a shuttered window, the edge of something like a shelf or mantle. I wasn't really focusing on the décor, though, so much as the vibrant, red smears that covered all of these surfaces. The table was marked in black streaks of what appeared to be ash, and the streaks joined to create what I could only guess was a magic circle of some kind. Within it, in a puddle of half-clotted blood, was an arm.

 
A
tiny
arm.

My guts did a somersault and I felt like I was going to be ill. I looked away, then quickly glanced back at the screen to make sure I hadn't mistaken it.

 
Nope. That's definitely a baby's arm.

The other three didn't so much as flinch. Joe and Isabella looked to the screen, poker-faced, while Kubo paced and started into his spiel. Maybe this kind of thing was normal in their line of work.

If that was the case, then I was definitely having second thoughts about joining up.

“We've been tasked with tracking down the coven of Mater Agatha,” began Kubo. “They've been busy of late, kidnapping kids and carrying out charming little rituals like this one across town. This photo was taken at a crime scene eight months ago. Since then, seven other local infants have met the same fate.”

Kubo slowly brought up seven more crime scene photos of similar grisliness, pausing on each one to make his point.

 
I'm going to spare you the specifics. To be frank, I couldn't even bear to look at half of them, and by the time he clicked over to a less distressing picture, one of the old, burnt-out house I'd just woken up in, my face must've been paler than the white screen. Suffice it to say the photos were fucked up. Pictures of dead bodies were one thing, but photos of
kids
all broken up like toy dolls was something else entirely. If Kubo was trying to get us worked up with his little presentation, then it was working. Through my disgust, I was getting pissed.

Kubo continued. “Last we tracked them, the coven was using this abandoned house in Flint as a center of operations. We interrupted them during their nightly worship and they scattered. Our team had expected more resistance, however as the witches are nearing their goal, they're getting more defensive. They need to sacrifice only one more child to succeed, and it is our job to hunt and kill each and every one of them before they do so.”

I nodded, peering cautiously at the screen. “So... what happens, then, if they manage to get their hands on another baby and, uh...”

“Something terrible,” said Kubo, simply.

My question had earned me curious looks from the other two. Joe smirked and shook his head, as if he were surprised at my ignorance. Isabella was looking at me, too, but her glassy eyes may just as well have been peering straight through me. Her head bobbed side to side and a few unintelligible words dribbled from her lips.

“They're looking to summon up a powerful force of evil, a dark deity, to do their bidding,” continued Kubo. “And if they succeed, the Order is going to have a hell of a time. But never mind that. We aren't here to discuss what'll happen if they're successful. What's important is that we sense the threat and are moving to nullify it.” He turned back to the screen, the next slide showing a black, doubtful shape along a twilit street. It appeared hunched, humanoid, if only for its long limbs and the suggestion of a pale, leering face. The photograph was taken from a distance however, and was of rather poor quality. “Mater Agatha's coven is incredibly dangerous. The witches on her payroll are not rookies. They aren't your run-of-the-mill craft users who picked up some tricks on the street. They're ancient practitioners, all of them, and their insights into the craft are profound. We'll have to tread very carefully moving forward. The higher-ups have put this team together with the express purpose of hunting down these dangerous witches. They believe that our abilities make for good synergy, and I have to say that I agree with their choices. So long as we can get our acts together and follow directions, we should come out on top.”