Armageddon (Angelbound) (17 page)

The riders whoop before disappearing through into a new pair of portals.

“Change position,” orders Lincoln. “They’ll try the same trick again.”

I run a few yards to my right and, sure enough, a rider comes barreling out of a fresh portal at the spot where I just stood. Once more, the horse rears on its hind legs. This time, I use the opportunity to jump high into the air, pull my legs into a crouch, and kick the rider firmly in the chest, throwing him off his horse. The hybrid swaggers to his feet as his horse gallops madly around.

The rider’s eyes glow demon red as he pulls a six shooter from his hip. “The pair of you are no end of trouble, chucking me off my ride.” He stalks toward me, aiming the gun right for my head. “But I think I’ve got you just where I want you.”

Behind me, I hear the low-pitched hum of a ghoul portal opening. He’s going to try to shove me into the portal, alive or dead. I stare down the barrel of the gun. I’m fast, but I’m no match for a bullet. I take a half-step backward, but my heel hits nothing but air. I so don’t want to fall into a ghoul portal without a ghoul—I’ll tumble through empty space for eternity. I move forward a bit, and raise my hands to shoulder-height, palms forward. “I won’t give you any more trouble.”

“I know you won’t.” The rider saunters closer. “And I’m guessing Armageddon will pay a pretty penny for the likes of you. He always wants ‘em feisty. More fun to break ya.” With his free hand, he rubs his chin. A chunk of rotting flesh falls off. “My buyer’s gonna love you, little girl.”

The rider stalks closer in what feels like slow motion. With every step, his spurs echo more loudly through the desert. A realization hits me.
I might get caught here, on the Plains of Fire, before I ever get anywhere near my son.

How could I have been so reckless?

I scan the plains, looking for any sign of Lincoln or Kiya. Were they already abducted by the other rider? My husband could be on his way to the torture pits right now. My heart kicks so hard in my chest, I think it might break free.

The rider pauses before me, the exposed tendons in his neck flexing as he speaks. “Here’s what you’re gonna do.” With his right hand, he points the barrel of his gun at my head. “Take my hand and step back into that portal behind ya.”

The rider raises his grisly left hand toward me. Bits of moldy flesh hang from his fingertips.

Bracing myself, I slowly lift my hand to meet his. A heavy sense of doom presses onto my shoulders.

The rider grins and gives my hand a little squeeze. “Now don’t be so—”

After that, an amazing thing happens. The rider’s eyes roll into his head and he slumps over, dead, a dagger embedded in the back of his skull. Once he falls, I can see Lincoln riding toward me on a demon horse. In his left hand, he holds a gun to the last rider’s head. His right hand reaches toward me. Kiya sits on Lincoln’s shoulder.

As Lincoln rides by, I grab his right arm and get hoisted onto the horse’s back. There’s not a lot of room with three of us, but my tail anchors me to the saddle enough to hang on.

The horse leaps through the still-open portal behind me. We all tumble through empty space, coming out right by the Wall of Hell. Everything looks deserted. I immediately slide off the horse’s barrel. Kiya leaps from Lincoln’s shoulder to land on mine.

“You made a promise,” says the rider. “If I brought you here, you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Dismount,” orders Lincoln.

“There’s no point in stealing my horse. It won’t answer to no one but me.”

“Dismount,” repeats Lincoln. “Don’t make me say it again.”

The rider slides off the horse and lands on the desert floor before me. Lincoln does the same. With quick glances, he scans the horizon.

“No one’s around,” says the rider. “Just like I promised. Now, you keep yer word. Don’t kill me.”

Lincoln uncocks the gun. “I won’t kill you.”

The rider’s eyes flare demon red as his fingers creep toward the knife on his belt. “I didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“He won’t kill you.” I stab the rider straight through the heart with my tail. “But I will.” I yank my tail out of the rider’s chest. The demon crumples forward and falls onto the desert floor.

Lincoln leans over him, checking for any sign of life. “He’s dead. Nice work.”

“Not the cleverest of the bunch, I’m guessing.”

“Fortunately for us.” Lincoln slaps the horse’s hindquarters. “Hyah!” The animal rears on its back legs, whinnies and takes off into the desert at a gallop. Lincoln watches it go and shrugs. “Sometimes they return to normal once they’re away from their riders. It’s worth a try.” He turns to me. “How are you holding up?”

The adrenaline rush of demon-killing pumps happily through my veins. I can’t help but smile. “Great. I ate a mouthful of sand and lost my backpack.” Kiya chatters into my ear; I pet his tail in long strokes. “But I suppose I kept my most precious cargo, thanks to you.”

Lincoln shifts the weight of his own pack on his shoulders. “See? And I kept my pack, too.” The thrill of battle is brightening him as well. “That’s why you need me desperately.”

“I’d say that you’re right, but then, I don’t want you getting a bigger ego than you already have.”

“Oh, say it anyway.” Lincoln rolls his eyes. “You know my ego can’t get any bigger.”

“Fine. I need you…to step back so Kiya can open our way into Hell.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln stares at the towering wall, and all the adrenaline seems to disappear from both our systems. “We need to do that, don’t we?”

“We’ve already lost time in this desert.” I flip over my wrist and check out the Looking Glass. Maxon is now white eyed and sitting calmly. Hopefully he’ll stay that way until we reach him. I prod Kiya with my pointer finger. “We’re ready for you.”

Kiya scales the wall of vines and pauses about seven feet above the ground. Around him, the snaking cords transform from blackened ropes into bright green vines with wide leaves and tiny white flowers. Kiya lets out a happy screech. In response, the vines below him turn the same emerald shade, all the way to the desert floor. Kiya pats at the now-vibrant wall of green. The vines part like a veil, revealing an all-black interior beyond.

My breath catches. We’re here. The back entrance to Hell.

My heart hammers in my throat. Somewhere inside that darkness waits Maxon, my sweet baby. And he’s imprisoned by Armageddon. What if we can’t save him? What if he ends up tortured?

I look to Lincoln, feeling my eyes sting with hidden tears. I’m sure I’d be bawling my eyes out if I had any extra hydration in me.

Lincoln takes my hand in his. “We can do this,” he says in a low voice.

The cool resolve in his mismatched eyes thrums through me. My spine straightens; my heart rate slows. My wrath demon unfurls inside my soul, heating my blood with rage.

Fuck Armageddon. We’re getting our kid back.

We step inside, still holding hands. Kiya scrambles onto my shoulder, his little hands gently pawing my cheek as his chatter turns low and soft. Behind us, the wall-hole silently closes. My heart leaps into my throat.

Suddenly, the vines burst forward, pulling us against the wall, and then, inside it. Vines band around my chest, making it hard to breathe. My pulse skyrockets. Complete darkness surrounds me. I sense my body tumbling through space—moving downwards so quickly, I could be jet propelled—with the vines dragging me the entire way. I focus my energy on keeping my palm locked with Lincoln’s.

If we can stay together, we’ll be all right.

My body hits the ground with a shock of motion that I feel in every joint and vertebrae. The vines push Lincoln and I forward, through the wall and into a small chamber made of the same dark cords. Somehow, Kiya has managed to stay perched on my shoulder.

Nice work, Kiya.

I step around, inspecting the shifting walls. “Looks like we landed in a reception chamber.”

Lincoln kneels to the ground, touching the shifting vines under our feet. He pulls out a tuft of hair and rises to stand. “This is Anubis’s space, no question.”

On my shoulder, Kiya shrieks and points to a stretch of wall across the room.

The opposite vine-wall opens, and a familiar figure steps through. It’s Anubis.

His ebony face breaks into a white-toothed smile. “You made it. I was starting to worry.”

“The hike across the Plains of Fire kicked our asses,” I explain. “This place is hard to find.”

“That’s by design, I’m afraid.” Anubis’s bright smile disappears. “Are the two of you ready for Nefer’s prison block?”

“What guards her?” asks Lincoln.

“Insectus demons. They aren’t smart, but what they lack in brains, they more than make up for in number.”

“I remember,” says Lincoln. “I’ve fought them before.”

“I wish I could go fight with you,” says Anubis.

“Really?” I ask. “You seemed pretty convinced that this was the worst idea in the history of ever.”

“I still believe that, but if Nefer’s fighting, I belong at her side. Only, my powers end with gateways.” He inhales a ragged breath. “Well, you know the story.”

My heart goes out to the guy. I’d go crazy if Lincoln were going into serious danger and I couldn’t be there. “Hey, you’re helping her a lot right now.”

“I suppose,” says Anubis with a sigh. “Remember, after you free Nefer, I’ll transport you to the secret passageway to the throne room. Pass through the Veil of Fire, and you’ll reach your personal hells.”

Hard to forget that part.

“What about Nefer?” asks Lincoln. “Will she go through a personal hell too?”

“Yes, it’s the price of crossing the Veil of Fire.”

More of the adrenaline-buzz from our successful demon battle starts to wear off. I feel my Mommy-self returns, and she wants to freak the fuck out and cry for her lost child. Not helping. “Anything else, Anubis? Because I’m ready to go.”

“No, we’re done.” Anubis sets his warm palms on both of our foreheads. “Go and free her.”

Vines burst forward from behind us. Within a heartbeat, they’ve wrapped around our bodies, pulling us back inside the wall. Everything returns to darkness as we’re dragged off to Nefer’s prison block.

As I careen through the black space, I keep whispering one phrase, over and over: “We’re coming for you, baby.”

Growing up in Purgatory, I often heard mice scurrying about in the ceilings of our ranch house back on Dante Row. Every so often, I’d even catch sight of a tail hanging out of a particularly cracked ceiling tile, reminding me of the tiny crawl space that existed between the so-called ceiling and the floor above.

Right now, that memory stands out crystal-clear for one simple reason: the vines have just deposited Kiya, Lincoln and me onto a network of white plastic tubes that act as the ceiling for the large cement room below us.

In other words, we’re the mice.

I shift my weight, trying for a better view of the room below by peering through the gaps between the plastic pipes. The place is laid out in classic prison style; it’s two stories tall with an open central space and a wrap-around walkway along the second floor. The walls are lined with metal prison doors that have small barred windows. One long wall-panel extends from floor to ceiling, its surface covered in levers of all shapes and sizes. About a dozen Insectus demons rush around, their humanoid forms encased in shiny brown exoskeletons that look like plated body armor.

My heart starts pumping so hard, my pulse throbs in my neck. We’re here. Nefer’s Prison Block. Club Dead. One step closer to Maxon.

We need to break Nefer out of here.
It’s crazy enough to take on Hell with just the three of us. Nefer trained for this over two hundred years.

Below, an Insectus guard steps to the far wall, pausing before the panel of floor-to-ceiling levers. The largest of these large metal switches sits at chest-height and is painted bright red.

“Prisoners in Sector Q prepare for cleansing!” The Insectus pulls down one of the levers and a section of prison doors swing wide open. Once the inmates stumble out of their cells, the Insectus guards shuffle them onto the main floor of the space. I see humans, angels, and even a few high-ranking demons. Kiya bounces happily on my shoulder, gesturing wildly at Nefer, who strolls out with the rest of the group.

While I’m happy to see Nefer, she’s not who really has my attention. A tall woman inmate with blue-green hair and matching eyes is scanning the prison block, her nostrils flaring as she catches a scent on the air. Through her ragged sheath-dress, I can clearly see her armscales, the sign that this prisoner is a full-blooded Furor or damned close. That means she can take dragon form if she’s strong enough. Her tail’s also identical to mine, only the scales are colored bluish-green instead of black. All of this adds up to one possible disaster.

She’s Furor, and Furor have an extraordinary sense of smell.

The woman stares right to our hiding spot in the ceiling. Her face reminds me of an eel: oval-shaped with a long nose and small button eyes.

Lincoln taps my shoulder. “What’s her tribe?”

“Enchelýs tribe. Eel dragons. They draw their power from water.”

“Friendly?”

“Water dragons are the oldest types around. Not necessarily friendly or not. They keep to their own.”

The woman’s tail arches over her shoulder and waves in my direction. I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp of shock.

Unholy Hell. She’s going to blow our cover.

Before I can stop it, my tail darts down a gap in the tubing so the arrowhead end peeps through the pipes. It waves enthusiastically to her before I can yank it away.

I smack the arrowhead end. “Bad boy!” I hiss. My tail slinks to hide behind my ankle, where it will undoubtedly sulk for awhile. Damn that thing and its independent mind.

The Furor smiles knowingly and returns her attention to the Insectus guards. My heart beats so hard, I’m surprised the entire cell block can’t hear it. Seconds pass and the Furor doesn’t make any move to speak to her jailers.

“It doesn’t look like she’ll expose us,” whispers Lincoln.

“Not any more than she already has.” Fortunately, another prisoner has noticed our hiding place. Nefer. Her blue eyes linger on our spot in the ceiling a second too long to be coincidence, and that’s good.