Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) by Ambrose Ibsen Read Free Book Online Page A

custom job. The tank on his back was full of fuel, and a length of black pipe linked it to the flamethrower. It probably weighed a hundred pounds and looked like it could spew fire for hours.
    The trooper let it rip, sending a massive tongue of flame spiraling from the tip of the weapon. Four of the undead were caught in the first wave of flame, immediately falling back and igniting. The smell of burning flesh washed over us.
    No, scratch that. Burning, rotten flesh.
    The smell just about knocked me off of my feet. I scooped up Joe's lighter and helped him up. Though dazed, he was mostly unharmed after his brief melee with the zombies and was ready to get back into the game. Rather than use his Zippo, Joe made use of the environment, stirring up the flames that accosted the burning zombies and forcing the fire to spread to their fellows. He raised up one of his hands and furrowed his brow, falling back a couple of paces so that he might stay out of the enemy's reach, and transferred the tongues of flame to each of them in turn. With Joe on our side the power of the flamethrower was multiplied a dozen-fold.
    In the next instant the bulk of the undead were lit up like birthday candles, croaking and shrieking as they tossed themselves to the grass. The others were held back by a near-constant barrage of automatic gunfire. Round after round sank into the damned things; the troopers weren't interested in giving up any more ground and began to approach. The deafening report of their high-powered guns echoed off of the monuments, swelling into an ear-splitting cacophony.
    Not that I was about to complain. We were winning . And that was all that mattered.
    I dashed to my right and cleaved through a zombie that was coming up on Joe. My hand passed through its body with minimal effort; the flesh was dried out like papier-mâché, the bones were brittle and there'd been precious little in between the two layers to slow me down. Even as I tore through the freak's body and pulled off its head, I found myself growing apprehensive. These things were just weathered corpses; what could possess them to move-- to take on such remarkable strength and speed? Whatever was powering these things was bad news, there could be no doubt.
    The cry of a commando broke me out of my thoughts. I turned, expecting to find him getting knocked around by zombies, but discovered something a good deal more shocking at work.
    Leaping to the ground from the roof of the nearby mausoleum was a hulking black shape. The   edges of a cloak fluttered in its wake as it landed, and the flash of silver that followed was so quick I nearly missed it.
    The trooper dropped his gun and staggered back a pace, holding onto his abdomen.
    Then the dam broke.
    The commando's chest and gut were thrust open and his innards spilled out across his trembling arms. He fell, face-first, heaving blood into the ground while the towering cloaked thing turned its attention to the rest of the guys under my command.
    It was a man; a very large man. His face was chalky, the features deep-set and seemingly incapable of anything other than perpetual sternness. On that face that only a mother could love I caught a glimpse of what I took to be tattoos. This wasn't really a Mike Tyson sort of flourish we're talking about; the designs inked all over his face were symbols of some sort.
    Magical symbols.
    Since taking down Agatha, I'd had a few opportunities to learn about magic with Chief Kubo. I was still a long ways off from being a master like him. My grasp on magical seals and incantations was so tenuous that I couldn't pull off even the simplest spells. Still, I knew the language of the craft when I saw it.
    I tensed, taking in the sight of this new threat. The wheels were turning in Gadreel's mind, too; to my surprise, he didn't pressure me into making an immediate attack. My eyes scanned the man's face, then moved to the large scythe he held in his hands. The blade was flawless silver, and the