Rook: Let's Avoid the Apocalypse, People Page 8

“Then let go,” Angela replied brusquely, tired of everyone and everything trying to manipulate her.

  Rook brought his lips to her ear again and whispered, “If that’s what you want.”

  Was it, though? Dying in a back alley and never knowing who or what had stolen so much from her? Was that really what she wanted?

  * * *

  Rook watched as tears sprang to Angela’s eyes. Her muscles went slack beneath his fingers. She didn’t need to say anything as he hauled her back into the car. As she began to sob, Rook shoved her to Beauty.

  “Ah, come to Auntie Beauty,” his Arranger said, as she lifted an arm for Angela to take shelter in, even as she evaded yet another demon’s attack.

  Rook turned to Tomahawk, who was still firing out the window.

  “What’s the situation?” Rook asked.

  “We are getting our asses kicked,” Tomahawk replied through clenched teeth.

  Well, Rook had already figured that part out.

  The dragon seemed immune to anything they threw at him, but at least the demons exploded into flesh shrapnel. Unfortunately, there were so, so many of the winged creatures. And at this point, they were all dive-bombing the car, tearing away at the roof of the station wagon. Kind of like opening up a can of sardines that the demons hoped the dragon would charbroil for them.

  Even with a rocket launcher, they would still lose. Crap. Even if they had a nuclear bomb, they would probably end up as dragon food.

  But wait… Didn’t they have a nuclear weapon of sorts all to themselves?

  Rook climbed into the backseat next to Tomahawk and leaned over the seat.

  He grabbed a groggy Chad and began shaking him. “This is all your fault! If it weren’t for you—”

  Tomahawk clutched his arm and tried to stop him. “Rook! This isn’t helping!”

  Rook ignored Tomahawk and slapped Chad across the face, rousing him.

  “You got all of those people killed back in Africa,” Rook said, as Chad’s face blotched and he began to shake. “And now you are going to get us all killed!”

  The seal glowed beneath Chad’s shirt, and then burned through the fabric. The marred flesh began to flow. Rook jerked the kid up and pointed the seal out the back window.

  “Come on!” Rook shouted, as he shook Chad one more time.

  The Hellgate burst open, creating a vortex that lashed out of the car, catching the dragon by surprise. His thick, purple claws tried in vain to clutch at the ground, but the Hellgate was tougher than asphalt. Along with the dragon, half the winged horde, beating their wings in futile effort, got sucked into the vortex. The rest of the demons banked, screeching, scattering to the wind.

  “I knew you’d come in handy,” Rook said as he raised his fist. “So sorry about this.”

  Rook punched Chad once, but the Hellgate’s vortex enlarged, churning and groaning as it grew. Rook punched Chad again, to no avail. Using all his strength, Rook punched him a third time. Finally, the student’s head slumped over, and the Hellgate collapsed upon itself.

  “Damn!” Rook stated as he shook his hand out. “We have got to find another way to close that thing. My hand can’t take much more of this.”

  Tomahawk seemed wholly unimpressed. “Rook, you can’t just keep pulling these stunts without warning us.”

  “Really, you wanted a heads-up about that?”

  Still angry, Tomahawk turned away.

  Fanny, though, hopped onto Rook’s lap. “I kind of liked the Hell-thingy. It had pretty colors.” She poked Chad. “Can we do it again?”

  Rook gently pulled Fanny’s hand back. “No, sweetie. Hopefully not for a long, long time.”

  Beauty’s dark eyes flashed in the rearview mirror. “Where to now?

  “Where do you think?” Rook answered.

  Beauty frowned, but made the next right-hand turn. They needed to get to a safe house, but after tonight, with his knuckles stinging? Rook wasn’t exactly sure anywhere was truly safe anymore.

  CHAPTER 7

  Angela pushed herself up as Beauty slowed the car. From the trash in the gutter to the homeless huddled over steaming grates, it was pretty obvious that this was the “bad” part of town. However, after everything Angela had seen tonight, people might want to reassess how easily they threw the term “bad” around.

  They cruised up to a tattoo parlor. Its sign blazed “Flesh Works.” Since there were no parking spaces, Beauty pulled the station wagon over the curb and onto the sidewalk. The others all piled out, but Angela stayed seated. What else would they find inside that horrified her? And most likely wanted her dead?

  Beauty popped her head back into the driver’s-side window. “Come on, sugar. It is really best if we get you inside.” Beauty looked at the hospital gown that Angela still wore. “And dressed.”

  Reluctantly, Angela opened the door and stood up. Every muscle complained, and she found a huge bruise on her arm where she’d torn the IV out. Her gown was smeared with red, green, and black blood. She had to look away before her stomach turned over again.

  Angela glanced over to watch Tomahawk get Chad out of the car, then lift him over his shoulder. He made it look so easy, like Chad was weightless. Then the girl—Angela was pretty sure her name was Fanny—struggled to get several suitcases out of the back. Rook helped the girl.

  “There you go.”

  Fanny jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best.” Then she grabbed the bags and skipped off after Beauty as she headed to the tattoo parlor. Rook indicated that they should follow. From the bums to the biker gang hanging out across the street, no one seemed to turn an eyebrow up at their most unusual party.

  Only one lady of the night sidled up to Rook.

  “Oh, baby,” she slurred, peppermint schnapps blasting them. “You can do better than that,” she said, indicating Angela. Any other night and Angela might have been insulted, but tonight? Tonight the woman was right.

  Rook gave the working girl the once-over. “Not tonight. I can’t.”

  The prostitute spat at him, but Rook just shrugged it off, but Beauty looked back. “Always the charmer, Rook.”

  “It’s a gift, I tell you,” he replied with a tight grin.

  Angela couldn’t get a read on this man. One moment he was verbally cutting a woman down, right after he helped Fanny with her bags. Angela could still see his countenance when he threatened to drop her from the car. He had been serious. He would have done it. Then she remembered his arms around her, carrying her through the blood and bullets back at the warehouse.

  Which Rook was he?

  * * *

  Beauty opened the door to the tattoo shop. That place was abuzz, literally. Tattoo guns whirred as clients clenched their teeth. The place was sprawling with at least a dozen chairs and several more private rooms.

  Across the tattoo parlor’s main room, she caught the eye of the purveyor of the establishment, Ax-man. Nearly as tall as she, he strode toward her, his leather vest opening to reveal his entire beer belly covered in ink. An arrow pointed down his happy trail.

  Bikers. Always going for the obvious. But he was sweet on her, and right now they needed a little sweet.

  “Beauty!” Ax-man said as he hugged her. “How long has it been?”

  The smile on his face fell, however, as he noticed who walked in behind her.

  He pointed a burly finger at Rook. “That’s far enough.”

  The entire room tensed. Only a few tattoo artists kept working, and only because they were more than likely weaving magic into the ink. If they stopped, they would die. They all might bite it anyway, as artists and clients reached for their guns.

  Rook also pulled a shotgun from inside his coat. “Ax-man, let’s be reasonable. Let us through, or I’ll find out what your intestines look like.”

  Ax-man fumed next to Beauty as she tried to console the biker. “Oh, honey, you know how Rook gets. That’s pretty darn reasonable for him. Especially since we just outran a Tainted Dragon.”

 
; The biker raised his eyebrows at that. Finally, he kissed her on the cheek. “For you.”

  Beauty returned the peck on the cheek. She certainly hoped that he did not expect any kind of favor in return. Or at least not until after he did some man-scaping.

  Extracting herself from Ax-man’s embrace, Beauty joined the group. Even though there were five of them weaving their way through the tangled maze of tables, all eyes were on Rook. Well, not so much eyes, but death gazes.

  She leaned toward Rook. “Again. So popular.”

  Rapidly, they made their way to the back of the shop. Rook reached out and grabbed a very … well-endowed sculpture and yanked it down. A panel opened beside him. The most fetid odor wafted from the room. How long had it been since someone used this safe house?

  Beauty put a handkerchief over her nose. Rook didn’t really expect them to go in there, did he? But, of course, Fanny rushed right in, gagging, but still excited. The interior was about as obnoxious as the smell. The couch and bed were moldy, and the table and chair looked like they had been through a hurricane… about a hundred years ago.

  Fanny clapped, though. “Rook, you always find the coolest places!”

  Rook grinned briefly, and then turned to Tomahawk. “Put Chad down on the bed. I need you to gather information ASAP.”

  Tomahawk grunted as he set Chad down on the rickety rollaway bed, and then glanced around the room. “That’s going to be a little hard, since I don’t think this place has even got electricity.”

  “Look,” Rook retorted, “I don’t care if you have to put your nose to the ground and sniff really, really long. We need to know who ambushed us back there.”

  Beauty patted Tomahawk’s arm and stepped between them. She didn’t need the two old colleagues to get into one of their legendary spats. “Rook is right. Whoever was able to summon a Tainted Dragon is a major player.”

  “No kidding,” Rook said, as he began pacing the tiny room.

  Angela sat down upon the green-tinged couch, looking more than a little chartreuse herself. Arms wrapped around her waist, the woman closed her eyes, more than likely trying to wish all of this away.

  “And I am sure,” Beauty replied, “that whoever that major player is, he is none to happy that you sent their extremely expensive conjure back to hell.”

  Rook waved her off. “They can sue me for lost wages.” He turned to her. “And aren’t you supposed to be doing something productive?” Rook indicated Chad. “Like arranging for his pickup?”

  Beauty’s eyebrow shot up. “You really want me to call Savage?”

  Rook’s feet froze in place. He frowned, and then grumbled. “No, not until I have more answers.” He turned to Tomahawk. “Which, speaking of, Tommi?”

  Tomahawk got up from his knees, where he was looking for an outlet. “Well, you had better start pulling juice out of your butt, because this place is dry. Plus, I am going to need a landline phone.”

  Clearly irritated, Rook motioned toward the door. “Tell Ax what you need.”

  Tomahawk answered slowly. “And then he will gut me for the sport of it?”

  “He’ll give you whatever you want with Beauty covering you.”

  Oh, how Beauty wished that wasn’t true. Alas, it was. She urged Tomahawk to the door. The sooner they got Rook the information he needed, the sooner he could climb down off his high horse.

  Beauty could only hope that Ax didn’t want to barter for his services. But in the end, Beauty knew she might have to take one for the team. At the very least, she could get Ax to shave his back.

  Oh, a girl could dream.

  * * *

  As the door latch clicked closed, Chad tried to rise, but instead nearly fell off the cot. Rook shook his head. Did the Hellgate-on-earth not realize that moving around was off the menu?

  “Fanny, could you hold him down, please?”

  She ran over, and, with a flying leap, jumped onto the bed. It wasn’t exactly what Rook had in mind, but it worked. He knelt and rummaged through one of Beauty’s many bags. Sure enough, he found a syringe full of Valium with Chad’s name on it—literally. Beauty was just that organized.

  Rook walked over with the syringe, but Chad fought Fanny.

  “No!” he cried as he struggled. “I deserve an explanation.”

  Ignoring the student, Rook tried to find a patch of muscle to inject the Valium into, when another voice joined Chad’s cause.

  “We both do,” Angela stated quietly.

  Rook put a knee on Chad’s shoulder, trying to restrain him. “Yeah, well, unless you’d both like to visit Barney-on-Steroids down in the underworld, I would allow this injection.”

  Fanny leaned over Chad. “He is right. You need to rest, you know… before you explode.” Wistfully, she added, “Although it would be really pretty.”

  As Chad gave Fanny a questioning look, Rook saw his chance and jabbed the needle into the guy’s bicep, pumping him full of happy juice. Finally, Chad stopped fighting as Fanny stroked his hair.

  “There, see? All better.”

  Groggily, Chad shook his head. “Please… Just tell us.”

  Rook let up on the guy’s shoulder and went back to pacing.

  “They might be more cooperative if they knew the truth …” Fanny said, with a little grin.

  Why was it that Rook could never say “no” to her?

  “All right. For those of us who have just joined the program, listen up. I’m only going to cover this once.”

  Pointedly, Rook glared first at Chad, then at Angela. Neither challenged him. Of course, Fanny made herself comfortable sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looked up at him, enthralled.

  “Goody!”

  “Okay,” Rook began. “You know Korea? The Big War? Split the country in half?”

  Angela nodded, but Chad became agitated again. “What’s that got to do—”

  Rook talked over Chad, who turned out not to be a very good student after all. “They set up a demilitarized zone to prevent hostilities spilling over the border, right?”

  Fanny clapped. “Oh, I love this part.”

  “That’s us. Earth. Terra firma. We’re the DMZ between heaven and hell. And guess what? Us humans? We’re the land mines. If they want to get to each other, they’ve got to go through us.”

  Angela frowned, but who didn’t at this news? “Why would—”

  Rook held up a hand. “I don’t make the rules, Babe. I don’t even pretend to understand them. I just play by them.”

  “Tell ’em about black cats and breaking mirrors and—”

  “You mean superstitions are…” Angela couldn’t even finish her own sentence.

  Rook shrugged. “Stuff isn’t so ‘supernatural’ or ‘paranormal’ when you see it in action. Know what I mean? Any other questions?”

  Angela wouldn’t meet his eyes. And Chad, well, Chad had passed out again. You had to love fast acting antianxiety medications.

  “All right. Lesson over. Now can—”

  Beauty and Tomahawk rushed in the room, both looking flushed.

  “Good news?” he asked, although he knew that was pretty much just wishful thinking.

  “Not even close,” Tomahawk answered. “I can’t access the Cabal’s files. We’re completely locked out of the loop.”

  Rook scoffed. “Bull. You are the kind of hacker that has Microsoft wetting its bed at night.”

  “Given enough time, maybe I could crack the encryption. But here? With these resources?”

  As Rook allowed that unexpected news to marinate, Beauty stepped forward. “Worse, the Prime called. He is sending a team to extract Chad and Angela… Right now.”

  Rook turned to her. “And draw attention to this safe house? Is Savage tweaking?”

  “And he wants each of us brought in for sequestered debriefing.”

  “Did he give you a freaking reason?” Rook demanded.

  Both Tomahawk and Beauty shuffled their feet, looking anywhere but at Rook.

  “Well?”
<
br />   Beauty glanced once at Tomahawk, and then sighed. “He said to tell you that you would be instructed on the ‘whys’ when it was time.”

  Rage billowed up from Rook’s core. “That bastard!” He pointed to Tomahawk before he could say anything. “And Savage really is one.” Rook began pacing again. “Damn him. He’s cut us off and expects us to just run to his apron ties.”

  Beauty tried to console him. “Rook, I know that you hate it when orders come down and—”

  “No,” Rook interrupted. “I hate it when my uncle goes on a power trip from his ivory tower, without a clue of what is happening on the street. That is what I hate.”

  He returned to pacing as Tomahawk mulled things over. “Well, after the violet Godzilla back there, they have a pretty good reason to—”

  Rook stopped abruptly. “You’re right.”

  Everyone seemed surprised that Rook had just agreed with Tomahawk, but he bet none of them knew why.

  “About …?” Tomahawk hesitantly asked.

  “Think about it. Savage wouldn’t yank my chain like this without a reason. They know the crap I am going to give them about it.” Rook knew his uncle all too well. “They have something in the works.”

  “Something like …?” Tomahawk asked.

  Rook wasn’t sure, but he could feel the kernel of truth deep within the situation. “Something that Savage knows that I won’t like. They are holding information back because …”

  Fanny jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “I love this game! Guess what Rook is thinking! It’s the best!” Rook had to admit that she could mimic him down to the tone as she said, “Because I wouldn’t agree with their plan!”

  Rook smiled. “Or more like I would refuse to go along with it.” Now they were onto something. “We just need to figure out what Savage is up to—”

  The room shook as something slammed against the secret panel. Muffled shouts came from the tattoo parlor. “Beauty …?”

  She avoided his gaze. “I figured. I mean I knew you wouldn’t just obey Savage’s orders, so I did some calling around.”

  Rook glared. “And?”

  Beauty rushed on. “It looks like the Cabal has been negotiating with the facility that we pulled Angela from.”