Damnation Books, LLC. P.O. Box 3931 Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998 www.damnationbooks.com Armageddon Bound Demon Squad Series by Tim Marquitz Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-001-9 Print: ISBN: 978-1-61572-000-2 Cover art by: Jessica Lucero Edited by: Lisa Jackson Copyright 2009 Tim Marquitz Printed in the United States of America Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced , scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Armageddon Bound By Tim Marquitz Dedication: This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife, Tiffanie and my little bugbear, Lorelei. You both inspire me to be so much more than I could ever have imagined. To my mother, who always had faith I’d succeed. I’m still working on it, mom. To my friends and family who’ve always been there for me; I love you all. To Whitneye, for everything. To Cookie Corrigan for supporting me and giving me a place to hide. To Josie, Jodale, and all my other early readers, thank you for wading through my slop. To the ladies of my writing group, Kim and Michele, thanks for keeping me on track. To Ben and Isaac for all the support and encouragement. To Mike, Art, Michelle, Liz, Jackie, and Adam for making two years of misery fun. Esydra! Acknowledgements: To Jessy Lucero for the amazing art. Page 1 The Enemy of My Enemy There was a time when being related to Lucifer was enough to keep the proverbial wolves from the door. Judging by the snarling bastard who stood over me, his meaty fist dotted with my blood, those days were gone. “Well, good morning to you too,” I mumbled, looking up through watering eyes. My nose throbbed something awful. The big bruiser—Marcus D’anatello—just smiled. While a pretty big guy myself, certainly not lacking in the muscle department, I had nothing on Marcus. Built like a silverback gorilla on steroids, he hovered over me enjoying the moment. His Armanisuited bulk blocked out what little light filtered between the buildings. Fortunately for me, his bald head and pearly white teeth provided enough to see by. I didn’t like what I saw. He gestured for me to get up, taking a short step back to give me room. I did so, hesitantly, expecting to be hit again. He surprised me. Marcus and I had a history. It wasn’t so long ago I took a 2x4 to that gleaming dome of his. I dented it up pretty damn good. Turns out, he’s not the most forgiving of fellows. Page 2 “What can I do for you, Marcus?” I asked, not really expecting an answer that didn’t involve his fists. “It’s not what you can do for him, Mr. Trigg, but what you can do for Baalth,” a reserved, measured voice answered from behind Marcus. I peered around D’anatello’s hulking shoulder to see an older man striding toward us. My stomach tightened into a hard knot as I recognized him; Alexander Poe, Baalth’s psychic enforcer. Dressed conservatively in an understated gray suit, a look of solemn determination etched into his face. I knew then it was business, not personal. Something was going down. “Where’s the bitch?” Marcus asked, the smile gone, his eyes feral.