Armageddon Rules

by J. C. Nelson

  “I want in on this.” Ari stood at my office door, once again eavesdropping. For a princess, she did that a lot.

  “Come in, Arianna. I’m glad to hear that, since you are a key component in my plan.” Grimm nodded toward one of my chairs.

  Ari slipped into a seat. “I’d like to throw a spell or two Mihail’s direction.”

  “I was thinking something more mundane, yet effective. She tried to have Arianna killed, and so can be charged in the Court of Queens. Indeed, it is the only place where you will gain the upper hand.”

  “Not a queen. Not even a princess. In case you can’t see from that mirror, I’m a witch.” Ari spat the word princess out as if she’d said “dead toad.”

  “You are hardly the first princess scarred by Wild Magic, and no power on earth can change the mark on your soul. I’ve checked your soul quite carefully, and you bear no darkness. You can enter the Court of Queens to seek redress from Queen Mihail.” Grimm’s tone allowed no question.

  “If it gets me within hair-pulling distance of her, I’m up for it. I haven’t been there in years.” Ari sat up.

  I made a fist and pointed it at her. “No pulling hair. Thumbs in the eye socket, smash the nose into your knee. I want a full account when you get back.”

  Grimm cleared his throat. “You’ll be going as well, Marissa.”

  “Not a princess. I mean, for real, not a princess. You need those glasses adjusted.” My jealousy of princesses’ natural luck faded the longer I watched what Ari went through.

  “No. But no queen brings a charge directly against another. They have their handmaiden do it.”

  “No.” I sat up and slammed my hand on the desk.

  Ari giggled. “If Marissa is my handmaiden, does she have to do what I tell her?”

  “No.” I glared at her, which only caused her to laugh harder. “She’s not a queen, can’t pick handmaidens, and I’m betting her stepmother ain’t going to designate me one. Good plan, bad execution.”

  Grimm shook his head. “Marissa, surely you expect I have a way for you to enter the Court of Queens.” Grimm had a sly smile on his face. He had something up his sleeves. If he had sleeves, real ones, that is.

  “About time you made me a princess.”

  He sighed in exasperation. “I will do no such thing. Let us say you went by proxy, for another queen. It was not uncommon for a queen to send her handmaiden instead.”

  “I prefer the term agent. You know someone who would let me do that?”

  He nodded toward the door. “Go to my office.”

  We slipped out, passing the temporary offices where my enchanters were loading into cardboard boxes anything not nailed down.

  Grimm waited in his mirror. “I have a signet ring, from someone who died.”

  “And they’d let me in with it?” I walked over to the wall, looking at the hundreds of tiny containers and bottles, souvenirs from several thousand years of wish granting.

  “A handmaiden is considered queen while she wears it.” He appeared in the stainless steel plating at the far end, and I followed.

  “Don’t they take them back when queens die?”

  “My dear, the authorities were otherwise occupied.”

  I shook my head. “If she’s dead, they’ll throw me out again.”

  Grimm pointed to a tiny metal case on the lowest shelf. “Ah yes, but first they’d need to convene and prove it. And with the other queens present . . .”

  “I could charge Mihail for attacking Ari.” I opened the case to find a dozen different rings. Some dazzled with diamonds, some that shimmered and moved. One was solid back with serpents engraved on it and a purple sheen to the metal. I spent minutes looking at each, trying to pick out the right one.

  The ring I kept coming back to was a simple silver ring. No decoration, and it didn’t feel like magic. I slipped it onto my finger next to the engagement ring, contemplating the look. “What do you think?”

  Grimm hadn’t spoken the entire time I looked at the case. “I think I expected you to choose that one. You are correct. They’ll throw you out, but with charges leveled, the damage will already be done. Then we negotiate. She holds Malodin in breach of contract in return for us not demanding retribution.” He watched me fidget with my hands. “You do know you are supposed to wait until Liam asks to accept his ring.”

  I smiled at Grimm. “I already know what my answer is. Keep an eye on the piper. Let me grab something from my office, then we’re going into Kingdom.”

  “Keep it hidden in your pocket; don’t put it on until you reach the Court of Queens.” Grimm’s tone took on the same deathly chill he used to inform people their son would be remaining toadish.

  “Am I going to become a ringwraith?”

  “Hardly, but the queens have prying eyes everywhere, and it wouldn’t do to give your enemies any warning. And regarding your potential engagement, I suppose I should offer you congratulations in advance, Marissa,” said Grimm.

  I smiled all the way to the car.

  * * *

  THE ENTRANCE TO the Court of Queens moves. I have no idea where the court actually is. Not sure anyone really does, but the entrance is what counts. We drove down into Kingdom, then walked to the old castle.

  “You’d make better time if you weren’t carrying a package.” Grimm watched us from a storefront window. I slipped my Bluetooth earpiece off. With it on, in the city, folks figured I was on my cell or insane.

  “Ask yourself a question. What has Marissa got in the box?” I handed it off to Ari to carry for a moment, letting my aching arms rest.

  Grimm disappeared, off to slaughter some bunnies and check the auguries. We made it two more blocks before he reappeared, coming from every single reflective surface in sight.

  The look of horror on his face shocked me. He practically shouted. “Marissa! You said nothing about the Gray Man.”

  “Nothing to say. She sent him after Ari. He won’t be harming her.” I took my box back. “I figure there’s a reward on his head.”

  Grimm whistled, long and low. “You have no idea how many young ladies that monster killed. Once he discovered bone magic, even I couldn’t take action against him.”

  “Dad used to say that he’d creep into my room and take me if I didn’t go to sleep. I never dreamed he was real.” Ari switched sides with me, as if the head in the box might bite her.

  “Never should’ve called me princess. Anyway, like I said, might be good for a dime.”

  “Marissa, Rip Van Winkle is the subject of one of the earliest bounties. Nearly a pound of Glitter offered by the Sixteenth Royal Family.” Grimm beckoned up the street, no longer on every surface.

  “Seven. There are seven royal families. All of whom are assholes.” I glanced over at Ari. “Except you.”

  “And Wyatt. And his mother.”

  “Jury’s still out.”

  “There were thirty families at one point, but most of them were slaughtered. The men were slaughtered, the women married to the sons of the survivors. The Sixteenth Royal Family was devoured by, let us see . . .” Grimm faded out again.

  We finally reached the entrance to the Court of Queens. The old castle. The castle the government used to operate from, so long ago.

  “Ready?” I glanced over at Ari. Beads of sweat lined her forehead.

  “No. I hate this place almost as much as you hate the post office.” Ari took my hand and marched toward the castle door. She knocked, and the massive doors slid open.

  I’d never quite gotten used to moving entrances. The room that the doors revealed looked like the waiting area for a posh restaurant. A short man, more reminiscent of a barrel with arms and legs than a human, stood beside a short podium.

  Ari jerked me close by the elbow. “Watch your mouth with the doorman.”

  “Who claims entrance to the Court of Queens?” He stepped around, blocking the arched doorway beyond.

  Ari dropped my hand and stepped forward. “I do. I am Princess Arianna Throm
son.”

  The Court doorman looked at Ari and smiled. He knew without checking. Then his gaze turned to me, and something like a cold spotlight swept over me. “You don’t belong here.”

  “We didn’t walk all the way through Kingdom to get turned away. Next time, I’ll make reservations, I promise.”

  He looked over at Ari. “My lady, does your closet door no longer work? I’ll send someone to repair it.”

  Ari let out a tiny squeak, and the tips of her ears flushed red. “I don’t use that way anymore.”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” I said, assuring myself that I’d take plenty of time to discuss with Ari what else she might have failed to mention. I turned back to the doorman and slipped the ring from my pocket. “I have this.”

  His eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “If you dare, put it on.”

  I slipped it on over the engagement ring. Grimm had me prepared for I don’t know what. Turning invisible? Being able to fly? I had mood rings that did more. The doorman stepped out of the way, and Ari and I entered.

  The Court of Queens resembled sixteenth-century palace meets modern-day spa and movie theater. A wide amphitheater opened before us, and at the back women lounged, having their hair done, feet up, and drinking what I hoped were margaritas.

  “The Princess Arianna, Princess of Clouds,” said the doorman in a voice that echoed through the hall.

  I’d never heard Ari’s title before. “Clouds? You never mentioned that. Fluffy white clouds. Awwww.”

  Ari elbowed me.

  The doorman looked to me and took a deep breath. “Present by proxy, Isolde Faron, Queen of Thorns.”

  Thirty-Three

  SILENCE LAY LIKE a heavy quilt across the Court of Queens for moments. Then whispers began to filter through it, until it sounded like a windstorm. From one of the side halls at the back of the court, a woman emerged, followed by a group of handmaidens.

  I recognized the Dian-Xi, Queen of the Fifth Royal Family, current High Queen. She approached and bowed, bending at the waist until her head dipped low, but not too low. Her gray hair, pulled back in a bun, and tan skin made me think of Death. Her gaze, sharp as knives, swept over us, as she decided what sort of trouble we represented.

  “Princess, it has been too long since I last saw you.” The Dian-Xi’s voice cracked when she spoke.

  Ari curtsied. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “Well, what do we have here?” I recognized the voice the moment I heard it. A high-pitched woman’s voice, like fingernails on a chalkboard mixed with a cheerleader chant.

  Ari shuddered. “Gwendolyn.” That one word had more venom than all the asps at the Kingdom Post Office combined. Ari’s stepmother ranked pretty high on people I’d like to harm. In my defense, she tried to kill us both.

  “Arianna, you will call me Mother.”

  I’d been in deep freezers with more warmth than the two of them.

  “And you will call me Ari.” Ari looked at her stepmother, and she saw Ari’s eyes for the first time.

  “Witch!” Gwendolyn shrieked, causing an even louder stir. “I knew you played with Wild Magic, girl. Someone should have killed you when they had the chance. You have no place here. Go to the Witch’s gallery, and never let me see you again.” With each word, her voice rose in pitch, until the last was almost a scream.

  “Patience.” The Dian-Xi walked over, her shoulders stooped, and took Ari’s hands. “The doorman would not have let you in, child, if you were a creature of darkness.” She glanced upward, into the cavernous reaches of the court.

  A second level, like an opera house, stood above the amphitheater. There, shadowy forms moved back and forth, covered in cloaks. “If you take evil into your heart, you will join them there. For now, you are welcome here.”

  She turned to me. “Why are you here? Why do you bring the name of suffering into our refuge?”

  “I’m here to settle with Queen Mihail. She tried to have Ari killed.”

  “Those are serious charges, handmaiden. You will give me an hour to convene the full court. In the interest of peace, you two will spend it in your private lounges. Come out, and I will have you both removed. The court is a place of peace.” The Dian-Xi stared at me as she spoke the last words, then took the arms of her handmaidens and shuffled away.

  Ari grabbed me, towing me down around the edge of the amphitheater, to one of the three halls that split off. “You heard her.”

  “You have a private lounge? And you crashed in my apartment?” Ari owed me quite a few explanations at this point.

  “My last birthday gift from Mom. I don’t like going there. All it does is remind me of what I’ve lost.” Ari halted.

  The guards before us did not move an inch. “Princess, you may pass. Handmaiden, by order of the High Queen, you will go to your queen’s lounge.” One of them pointed, across, to the other side.

  I dropped Ari’s hand, ignoring the stares from around the room.

  “Call me,” Ari said, then slipped past the guards. She practically skipped down the hallway, then disappeared into a room.

  “Can I visit her?”

  The guard pointed again, and I shifted my box to the other arm and walked around the back edge. One thing I hadn’t realized was how large this place was. At the back of the amphitheater, down marble stairs, a full spa stood. The women inside looked at me with fear or confusion as I passed.

  The next section had full-service restaurants, and the next clothes. The Court of Queens had what amounted to a miniature mall built in. When finally I reached the far edge, I turned into the last hallway, passing the guards without a word.

  Dust blanketed the floor a few feet in. With each step, I sent up tiny clouds. The most striking thing about the hallway was that it ended in a single door, heavy oak carved with figures on horseback. I reached for the door, and my hand tingled where the ring touched it. The door swung open ahead of my hand.

  Now, normally rules are that you never go through a door that opens itself. Particularly not when the door leads to the one-time private hangout of an evil queen. Thing was, the High Queen had been quite clear about this being a place of peace. So I pushed the door wider and stepped in.

  I don’t know what I expected. Something black. Something draped in cobwebs, like the hallway, or with bones on every table. Maybe pentagrams on the floor, or tapered candles. Instead, it looked almost pleasant. From the full couch, to the massive bed, it looked more like an ancient hotel room than the lair of evil.

  Carrying a box with the head of a serial killer halfway through Kingdom had my arm aching, so I dropped it at the door. I ran my fingers on the black marble that formed a hot-tub-sized bath. The towels on the side felt soft, almost fluffy, instead of stale. Like the Black Queen had stepped out for a few minutes, but would return at any moment.

  A knock on the door had me grabbing for my gun, which of course, I left back at the office. The door swung open, and the doorman entered.

  “I have missed her presence these last four hundred years.” He looked around, as if expecting the Black Queen to appear.

  “If you are four hundred years old, there are women who will kill for your skin-care secrets.”

  He almost smiled at my joke. Almost. “I am an expression of the magic here. Judge before the court, bouncer at the door, waiter at the restaurant. I bestowed the first crowns. I record the titles of each when she is born, and when she ascends to the throne. I come to warn you, handmaiden. Dress for court appropriately, and make yourself presentable.” He pointed to the wardrobe on the right.

  “I didn’t bring any clothes.”

  “Your queen’s clothes will fit you, though they may be too loose in the chest and a bit tight in the hips.”

  I looked at the dressing mirror, full of odd bottles of makeup, containers, combs, and pins. A white gauze hung over the mirror. It came off with a simple pull, showing a mirror like soapy water.

  “Your queen has never liked m
irrors. Rub it with your hand.”

  I did, and it became clear. Then slowly, the milky white returned, like someone showered right next to it. When I looked back, the doorman was gone.

  For a queen of evil, Isolde had pretty good sense in fashion. The dresses she wore looked fancy, but lacked sweeping trains or hoop bottoms. The black leather and cloth looked less like a dominatrix outfit and more like an old-style business suit. I slipped into one of the outfits, closing the hook and latches, and admired how well it fit. These weren’t clothes from someone used to sitting and preening. The Black Queen must have been hands-on, and kicked ass doing it.

  I sat down to apply makeup, bypassing “rose shorn” and “pearl dust” in favor of the basics from my purse. As always, my hair refused to obey, fighting the brush strokes and returning to its unruly state. In one of the many drawers, I found a set of bone hair combs, and pinned my hair back on both sides.

  I rubbed the dressing mirror, looking at my hair, turning to the side and glancing over my shoulder to make sure the outfit didn’t leave my rear showing. As the mirror fogged over again, a chill ran over me. I approached, watching my own outline take dim form, almost certain I’d seen something else, for a moment, looking out at me.

  Taking a towel from the tub, I caught my breath, stomped on the butterflies in my stomach, and nearly broke the mirror as I forced the towel down it. I forced my eyes open and almost screamed when I saw eyes looking back.

  “Marissa?”

  I let out a gasp, and the shaky adrenaline rush began to fade.

  Grimm. Just Grimm.

  “Why are you wearing that?” His gaze flickered to the top of my head. “Who told you to wear her clothes, her jewelry? What is wrong with you? Have you never seen me before?” The room trembled slightly. Anger. That was anger in his voice.

  “The doorman said to wear them. Said I had to dress up for the full court. And I didn’t think it was you in the mirror. I saw something.” I reached up to take a hairpin out and stopped. “Was it . . . ?”