Armageddon (Angelbound) (23 page)

Aldred bows low before Armageddon’s throne. “We greet thee, oh King.” His voice carries easily through the large marble chamber.

“So nice to see you, Aldred.” Armageddon lets out a dramatic sigh. “But I’m disappointed at the lack of greeting from your wayward daughter. Where’s my proper hello, you little fool?”

Adair bows low, an odd affair since her hip is obviously not working properly. Too bad your ghost-body gets frozen with your appearance at the time of death. Let’s just say that wasn’t Adair’s best day. “Greetings, oh King.”

Armageddon leans forward, his face the picture of rage as his remaining hand grips the stone armrest of his chair. “You can do better than that.” Little bits of black spittle fly furiously from his mouth. “I lost my arm due to your incompetence, and the proper use of my hip.”

“Excuse me, oh King, but I don’t recall fighting you. I thought that was Xavier.”

My brows lift in surprise. You have to hand it to the girl. She’s an equal opportunity sass-mouth, and I know sass. Unfortunately, this isn’t the place for sarcasm, no matter how much I’m enjoying it.

“You’ll pay for that.” Reaching out with his good arm, Armageddon grasps Adair by the throat. Her ghostly body turns red, and then, it bursts into flame, making Adair scream in pain and terror. Every shriek rattles up my spine; no one should endure agony that intense. Through her horrified howls, another, smaller moan echoes through the chamber.

It’s Maxon again. I glance down to the Looking Glass on my wrist. My boy lays curled on his side, his eyes fluttering open. The spell itself starts to flicker in and out of existence. Hildy’s finally losing her connection to my son.

Think, Myla.

I have to get past those golems. An idea starts forming at the back of my mind. My pulse skyrockets.

Give another minute, Myla. You’ll figure it out.

On the floor below us, the King of Hell releases Adair’s throat, tossing her aside. Her body quickly cools to the typical shade of ghostly white. Rising to his full height, Armageddon looms over the quaking figure of Aldred. “Control your daughter. I won’t say it again.”

Aldred rushes over to Adair’s prone body. He stares at it for a moment before hauling back his leg and kicking her in the gut. Ouch. This is why we keep spirits in the Ghost Towers sedated; they can do a number on each other when they’re pissed.

“Do as the King of Hell says, bitch.” Aldred looks over to Armageddon, anxious for approval.

Adair curls into a fetal position. “Whatever you say, Father.”

A memory flashes in my mind. I offered Adair the chance to go to Heaven in exchange for information on the traitors in Acca. As I later found out, the
numero uno
traitor was Aldred, and he’d manipulated everyone around him into joining his quest to reclaim the throne of Antrum. Adair had been obsessed with Lincoln, sure, but she was also brainwashed into doing whatever her father told her, and Daddy said she was going to marry the high prince. The whole thing had short-circuited her brain.

Now, we’d discovered the rest of the story. Connor had literally promised Lincoln to Adair. Aldred had thought it was a done deal, even before either of them was born. No wonder Adair had an outrageous sense of ownership about Lincoln. She was undoubtedly raised to think he was her property.

A sickly taste seeps into my mouth. Adair wasn’t wrong, ultimately. Lincoln did belong to her, in a sense.

Armageddon limps back to his throne. “Much better groveling, my sweet broken girl.” He plunks back into his stone chair. The movement seems robotic and odd.

Adair slowly rises to her feet. “If I please my King, then I am happy and whole.”

“No, you’re still a broken little thrax and always will be,” snaps Armageddon. “But I have good news. Maxon’s monopsyche is almost shattered, too. After that, our little guest will wake up.” He rubs his long hands together. “Fun times ahead.”

My knuckles whiten around Lincoln’s arm. Panic and rage twist across my shoulders. This can’t be happening. No way can Lincoln and I wait here while Armageddon tortures our boy.

Lincoln sets his hand on mine and whispers one word, “soon.”

“Yes, soon.”

I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw aches from the pressure. Lincoln’s right. This isn’t our moment. I close my eyes and concentrate. The idea for how to take down those golems feels just out of reach; I can almost hold it in my mind.

Meanwhile, Aldred slinks up to Armageddon’s side. “May I assist in the torture?”

I stifle a gasp. Aldred could be joining in hurting Maxon? That’s something I never considered. My temples pulse with anxiety and rage. Beside me, a muscle twitches along Lincoln’s jaw. He’s as close to losing it as I am.

Armageddon turns to the figure in the throne beside him. “What do you say Mumsy, should we share our fun?” He grips Onyx’s shoulder and shakes her violently, making her head swivel from side to side. “Mumsy says no. I’m the only one who gets to have fun around here.” He back-hands her cheek. “How right you are, Mumsy.”

“In that case, it seems I’m not needed.” Aldred takes a few shaky steps away from Armageddon. “If there’s nothing else you require, I’d like to return to the torture pits.”

“Leaving so soon?” Armageddon leans back in his chair, lacing his three-knuckled fingers over his thin belly. “I have time to kill while the little whelp gets conscious. Tell me everything you know about Myla and Lincoln, starting at the beginning.”

Lincoln and I share a look of surprise and disgust. I wonder how many new residents of Hell get interrogated this way. It’s unsettling to think about the Armageddon spending hours picking through the minutiae of our lives. Yet another reason why this freak must die.

Aldred fidgets with the hem of his tunic. “I’ve already told you all I know.”

“Well, tell me again. You’re a simple sod prone to forget important details. It’s crucial for me to understand my enemies. You’ve never met Xavier, have you?”

“No, he began visiting Antrum after I was imprisoned.”

“Pity. Tell me about the demon girl and boy scout prince, then.”

Aldred bows so quickly and deeply, I’m surprised he doesn’t snap his back. “Yes, my King. To understand Lincoln, I should probably start with Connor.”

“Go on.”

“I knew Connor as a child…” Aldred launches into detailed explanation of everything I already know about Lincoln’s father. My chest tightens with anxiety. Armageddon is distracted now. The throne room is relatively empty. The emptiness may be odd, but there’s no reason not to take advantage of it. This could be our best and last chance to free Maxon.

At last, an idea appears, fully formed and beautiful.

I turn to Lincoln and mouth one word. “Whips?”

He grins from ear to ear. “Whips.”

A pang of excitement shoots through my nervous system.

This is really happening. We’re on.

After sharing a quick nod, Lincoln and I creep to opposite sides of the balcony, careful to stay out of view. I take out my baculum; Lincoln does the same. Our gazes lock. This is it. Go time. My heart pounds with such force, blood whooshes in my ears.

Lincoln raises his right hand, counting out on his fingers.

Three, two, one…

I lower my baculum to the balcony floor, imagining it turning into a whip of white angelfire. A long razor-sharp wire of flame snakes out from the end of my weapon. At the same time, Lincoln does the same with his baculum, creating another long whip. The ends of both of our lines twine together, forming a single line of laser-sharp wire, strong enough to cut through most metal, and definitely hot enough to slice through a frost golem.

Seeing the crackling line of fire, I know we need to hustle. There’s no way we can sit around, waiting for someone to notice the sudden light burning on the darkened balcony. Lincoln and I share another small nod.

Let’s do this.

Moving in sync, the two of us leap atop of the balcony railing, balance for a moment, and then make the long jump down to the chamber’s floor. As we move, the fiery whip-line between us slices straight through the frost golems. The guardians roar with rage when they see us approach, only to have their torsos slowly slip forward as they fall to the floor, lifeless. Once their ice-blue bodies split, they immediately begin to melt.

But there’s no time to appreciate the beauty of a frost golem getting its due. Lincoln and I race across the chamber floor with one goal in mind.

Kill Armageddon.

Aldred scampers across the stairs, hiding his bulky body behind Adair’s frail form. “Protect me, daughter.”

What a piece of work.

Lincoln and I extinguish our baculum and race like blazes, reaching the base of the stairs in seconds. Armageddon leans back in his chair and chuckles. “I was wondering when you’d come to visit. Though, honestly, I thought it would be an army.” He taps his chin dramatically. “Want something?”

My voice comes out with just the right level of menace. “Hand him over.”

“Never,” snarls Armageddon. “You think I have only frost golems here to protect me?”

With those words, Onyx’s corpse springs to life, moving in jerky motions down the stairs. She raises her arms toward Lincoln and I, and makes a classic mummy ‘uuhhhhh’ sound.

“Mumsy has an excellent kill record, by the way. No one’s lasted more than twenty seconds against her dead body.”

“Really?” I ask. “What’s Mumsy going to do, exactly? Hum us to death?”

Onyx lets out another low groan. The black wrappings whip off her right arm, zooming in my direction. The strips wind tightly around my throat, choking off my breath. At the same time, the wrappings from Onyx’s left arm loop around Lincoln’s torso, preventing him from accessing his baculum.

I pull at the wrapping around my neck, but there’s no give. My lungs burn for air.

Onyx stands a few yards away, her left arm tethered to Lincoln’s torso, while her right arm holds the line about my throat. Her head lists to one side, and I swear I can see a smile beneath her wrappings.

Armageddon rises from his chair and limps down the steps toward Lincoln. “I’ve so looked forward to the day when I could consume your soul.” He eyes Lincoln from head to toe. “Wrap up his feet too, Mumsy. I don’t want him running away.”

Onyx’s head twitches, and another wrapping-strip shoots out from her arm, this time binding Lincoln’s ankles. I try to run toward him, but the strip around my neck grows tighter as Onyx pulls me closer to her side. My lungs scream for air.

“That’s perfect, Mumsy.” Armageddon stalks closer to Lincoln. “Fortunately, I can still consume souls with my good hand.”

My wrath demon burns to life inside me. Maxon imprisoned? Lincoln’s soul destroyed? I’ve still got one good minutes of consciousness left, as well as my baculum. Those demons are going down.

What happens next takes seconds, but each one oozes by in agonizingly slow-motion. My next attack simply has to be perfect, or we’ll all wind up dead.

Quick as lightning, I ignite my baculum into a dagger, slicing through the bindings that choke me. I suck in deep breath right before fresh wrappings loop around my neck. Onyx lumbers toward me, her arms outstretched.

At this point, running won’t work, I’ll only tighten the choke hold on my neck. And cutting the bindings only buys me another breath. Instead, I need an entirely new approach. This time, the idea comes to me quickly.

A grenade. Oh, yeah.

To protect my hand, I pull the sleeve to my dragon-scale fighting suit over my left palm. Taking my baculum in my right, I imagine it filled with liquid angelfire that I then pour into my left hand, where I shape the flames into a grenade. Once my weapon’s complete, I toss it toward Onyx. The small explosive bursts by her feet, consuming her mummy wrappings in fire. A high-pitched screech sounds as her body chars and curls, withering into a burned-out husk. The hold around my neck crumbles. Lincoln breaks free from his bindings as well. Onyx shrivels into a pile of ash.

Killing Armageddon’s Mom? Nailed it.

The world starts moving again at regular speed as Armageddon lets out a great roar of rage. “How dare you?”

“Whips, Lincoln!” I yell.

Acting in unison, Lincoln and I reignite our baculum as whips, cracking the fiery cords toward Armageddon’s throat. The angelfire lines constrict the demon’s windpipe, choking him. Armageddon claws at his throat, his face contorted in anger.

With our whips tightly in place, Lincoln and I yank on the lines with all our strength. The motion sends Armageddon tumbling down the steps, his body landing in a heap by my feet. Quick as lightning, I change my baculum into a short-sword. Lincoln speeds to my side, his weapon now in the same form.

Armageddon twitches on the floor, his beady eyes glaring at our combined blades. Memories of Verus’s prophecy run through my mind.

“Should we wait for Nefer?” I ask. “Maybe tie him up?”

“Yes,” hisses Armageddon. “You should wait.”

“No way,” snaps Lincoln. “We can’t pass this up. Verus can see another future.”

Armageddon blinks at me innocently. “Mercy, Great Scala.”

His words send white-hot rage pumping through my bloodstream. My eyes glow red with wrath. “Mercy? Like you showed my father and Maxon?” I look to Lincoln. “Let’s do this.”

Moving in a single motion, we plunge our swords into Armageddon’s chest. I feel the tug of the blade as it slices into his flesh.

That’s for Maxon, asshole.

On the floor before me, Armageddon screeches with pain, molten fire churning under his skin. Excitement whirls through my bloodstream.

We’re doing it. We’re actually killing Armageddon!

Like the bodies of so many of his own victims, Armageddon starts to burn and fade, turning into ash. For a moment, his form holds it’s Armageddon-like shape, and then it crumbles into a pile of dust.

Aldred claps from his cowering-spot by the wall. “Well done, my King! Bravely fought, my Queen! You killed Armageddon.” Adair stares at us, an odd look on her face. Not elation like her Father, but something else. Scheming, maybe?

“Shut up and stand by the wall,” orders Lincoln.