Armageddon (Angelbound)

by Christina Bauer

  She takes the two silver rods, one in reach hand, and ignites them as short-swords. Her huge black wings extend over her shoulders and within seconds, she’s airborne and moving with a speed and grace I’d only seen my father wield. Her body’s a blur as she dives over the oncoming Insectus demons, leveling whole groups with one great swoop. Kiya rides on her shoulder, chittering happily.

  “Nefer!” I call. “What are you doing?”

  “Buying you both time,” she says as she glides through the air. “And enjoying myself immensely.” She takes down another half-dozen guards with one twisting dive. “I’ll stay here and fight them off.”

  I can’t deny that she’s doing an ace job of keeping the new guards near the explosion-hole, but I can’t let her fight them all alone. Lincoln hands me one of his baculum rods and ignites his remaining weapon as a short-sword. He doesn’t even need to ask me about this; we’re already of the same mind.

  “Myla and I are coming over to he—”

  Lincoln never finishes his sentence. At that moment, the floor explodes. Great vines burst from under our feet, wrapping Lincoln and I from head to toe. From across the prison block, Kiya and Nefer watch the slithering cords drag the pair of us into the ground. On reflex, I fight the sensation of being confined, but it’s no use. The pull of the vines is too powerful.

  Thick cords wrap around my face, blinding me. Darkness surrounds me as I’m dragged deeper into Hell. As Lincoln and I disappear from the prison block, Nefer calls to us in a loud voice.

  “Tell Anubis to wait for me in the secret passage by the Veil of Fire. We’ll meet you in the throne room!”

  A grim voice inside me head says ‘if we ever get to the throne room.’ Honestly, we barely made it out of Nefer’s prison block alive.

  # # #

  The vines deposit us into a dark and snug passageway made of black stone. Anubis stands above us, holding a lit torch in his right hand. “Where is she?” he asks through panting breaths. “Where is Nefer?”

  I slowly rise to my feet. “We freed her from prison, but she decided to stay behind and fight off the Insectus demons.”

  Anubis’s brown eyes grow wide with shock. “Why would she do that?”

  Lincoln sets his hand on Anubis’s shoulder. “To give us a chance to escape. She said she’d meet you here, in the secret passage, and then we’d all reunite in the throne room.”

  Anubis slams his fist into the wall, cracking the shiny black stone into a web-pattern at the impact point. “No!”

  He’s not taking it well, but I wouldn’t either, if I were him. “I’m sorry, Anubis. She just took to the air and didn’t give us any choice. We wanted to stay back and help her, but then your vines appeared.”

  Anubis avoids my gaze, his mouth set into an angry line. He points down the hallway. “The Veil of Fire is that way.”

  I step closer to him. “Anubis, I’m so—”

  “Just go,” he says in a low voice.

  Lincoln takes my hand in his. “Come with me, Myla.” He’s ignited his remaining baculum into a small torch, which casts a flickering light on the shiny stone walls.

  “We’ll see you in the throne room, Anubis.”

  The demigod shakes his head. When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. “Just leave me.”

  I don’t need to be told another time; Lincoln and I have work to do. We rush down the darkened passageway until a curtain materializes before us. Like the name indicated, the shifting fabric is made from glimmering yellow flame.

  The Veil of Fire. We’ve reached it. Satisfaction winds through my chest, charging my body with hope and adrenaline.

  “Do you think we’ll remember what we’re doing?” I ask. “When our personal hells start, I mean.”

  “As in, will we still know it’s a test?”

  “Yes. It will be easier if we know we’re in a trial.””

  Lincoln exhales a long sigh. “We could, if we’re lucky.”

  “But we’re never lucky, are we?”

  “Not lately, that’s for certain.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze. Together, we walk forward and into the shifting fabric of yellow flame.

  Please, let us be lucky.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next thing I know, I’m seated in a cramped white office on a rickety wooden chair. Lincoln sits beside me. Before us, a Mantis she-demon is perched behind a rusted metal desk. She’s tall, lanky and bright green with a tiny head, large bulbous eyes, and long bony arms with an extra set of elbows. Her black hair is pulled back into a tight bun.

  “You’re late, Myla Lewis,” she says, scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

  I try to understand what’s happening and fail utterly. “My personal hell is this office?”

  “Obviously, and you’re tardy in the extreme.” Her mouth is teensy and has long pointed teeth.

  I exhale a long breath. At least, I know this is my personal hell.

  Lincoln eyes the Mantis demon carefully. “Why is there a time schedule here?”

  “There is and the ‘why’ is none of your business.” She points her pen in my direction. “And for the record, this is her personal hell.”

  “No offense, but when I thought of my personal hell, I didn’t picture you.” I can kill a Mantis demon with one hand tied behind my back.

  “That’s because you’re a fool.” She adjusts the lapels on her three-piece suit. “This isn’t a torture pit. This is a test. And since the two of you were stupid enough to try to pass the Veil of Fire, it’s a test you’ll take together. He screws up and you still hit the torture pits, understood?”

  I really want to poke her in the eye with that pen. “Yeah, I got it.”

  The Mantis picks up a stack of papers before her and straightens them carefully. “First, you must fill out some paperwork.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I never kid.” The Mantis glances down at the top sheet. “First question. Why did you wish to pass the Veil of Fire?”

  My eyes flare red with demon anger. “That’s none of your damned business.”

  She starts scribbling away. “I’ll write that you’re here to save a loved one. It’s the same reason all of you fools try to break into the throne room. You’d think the fact that no rescue has been successful since the dawn of time would discourage you a tad, but it never does.” She smacks her tiny lips. “Next question.”

  I press my palms against my eyes. Damn, I hate this so much. Mindless bureaucracy, just like the ghouls stuck me with when I was growing up. I flip over my wrist and peek at my Looking Glass. Maxon is awake and crying. Only this time, instead of pounding on the walls and screaming like he did before, he now cowers in a corner, his arms looped around his knees. My strong boy, my fearless warrior, now so frightened and alone. Frustration tightens my neck.

  Whipping out my baculum from their holster, I ignite the silver rods as a spear, aiming the tip directly at the Mantis’s head. “This is the part where you decide to skip the paperwork.”

  The Mantis makes a series of clicking sounds and her small shoulder-wings flutter. “If you had the patience to go through all this paperwork, it would help you with this test.”

  “And I said fuck the paperwork.”

  Lincoln sets his hand on my shoulder in a show of solidarity. “I’d really listen to her, especially because if she doesn’t kill you, I will.” He rises to stand, takes a dagger out of his belt and chucks it onto the desktop, where it skewers the pile of sheets with a thunk. “We’re here to rescue someone, and we’re running out of time.”

  The Mantis visibly shivers as she stares at the dagger. “But if you don’t do this paperwork correctly, you could end up in the torture pits. Aren’t you afraid of that?”

  Lincoln struts up to her desk, pulls out his dagger, and sets it by her long neck. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Fine, fine,” says the Mantis quickly. “Let the test begin.” She purses her lips. “Lower
your weapon.”

  “Fine.” I extinguish my baculum, but keep a tight grip on the silver bars.

  The Mantis slides out the top center drawer of her desk and presses a button inside. Two doors appear, one on either wall of the room. “This is your test. Behind each door is a version of the loved one that you have decided to—” she makes a great show of sarcastic coughing. “Try and save. One is a perfect replica of your loved one at some point in his life. The other is an evil doppelganger. You are to meet both versions and then choose the true replica.”

  My body freezes with shock. I’m going to see Maxon? I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to hold him right now.

  “Let’s begin.” The Mantis snaps her fingers. The left-hand door swings open and Maxon races into the room, wearing a torn princely tunic. His face is dirty and lined with tears. He barrels into our arms and weeps.

  If someone reached into my rib cage and pulled out my heart, it couldn’t hurt as much as this does right now. Maxon’s tiny fingers wind into my hair.

  “You’re here, Mommy! You found me.” He leans back, brushing his palms against his cheeks to clear away the tears. He only leaves fresh smears of dirt across his face. It’s adorable and heartbreaking, all at once. “We can go now, right? I want to go home.”

  Lincoln sets his palm on Maxon’s neck. “We’ll go home in a little while.”

  Maxon sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “I want to leave, now. Please, Daddy.”

  “It won’t be long. Who’s my best soldier?” asks Lincoln.

  Macon puffs out his chest. “I am, Daddy.”

  The Mantis steeples her fingers under her chin. “You must stand over here now, boy.” She taps the right-hand side of her desk with her claw-like hand. Maxon dutifully marches over to stand in place, his lower lip trembling as he holds in tears.

  “That was the first choice.” The Mantis snaps her fingers. “Here’s the second.” The right-hand door swings open to reveal a handsome man in his twenties with short black hair and mismatched eyes. He wears camo pants, combat boots and a torn black T-shirt. He steps into the room and looks around, his face crumpled with confusion.

  A jolt of realization freezes me in place. In appearance, this guy is the perfect blend of Lincoln and me. This is out Maxon, only an older version.

  “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” He eyes us carefully. “You look young.” He points at Lincoln. “You, especially.”

  “You’re having a bad dream,” says the Mantis. “The sooner you tell your parents what you recall of your time in Hell, the more quickly it will end.”

  The adult Maxon swings about, spies the Mantis demon and laughs. “Any reason I shouldn’t kill you?” he asks.

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” I say.

  He stares at me for a long minute. “What’s going on here?”

  “Do as I say,” order the Mantis. “What do you think of your time in Hell? Tell them honestly.”

  Maxon scratches his neck, his mouth winding into a half-smile. “And then this shit is over?”

  The Mantis makes a note on the sheet before her. “Quite.”

  “Since this is a dream and all, I’ll tell you what I really think.” The adult Maxon stares down at the ground. “My years with Armageddon tore out my soul.”

  The world around me turns dream-like and cold. Years with Armageddon? That can’t be right.

  My hand reflexively moves to my throat. “You don’t spend years with Armageddon. We’re here to free you right now. You escape with us.”

  “That’s what you think? Look at me. Really look at me.” The adult Maxon raises his gaze to meet mine, and his face changes. His handsome features melt away. Suddenly, my son’s skin is a patchwork of scars and open wounds. His right eye socket is empty, the skin folded over. “I’m broken and evil and you made m this way.” He notices the other Maxon in the corner. “You made both of us.”

  The young version of Maxon scrubs his face with his tiny hands. When he pulls his palms away, his small face is covered in bruises. A line of blood oozes from the corner of his mouth. “It hurts, Mommy.”

  His tiny voice strikes me like so many heavy blows. It was a mistake to come here. I should never have tried. My legs turn boneless beneath me and I crumple forward. Lincoln kneels beside me, rubbing my back in soothing strokes.

  “You have to choose, Myla. It’s our only way out of here.”

  “That isn’t a choice. Neither of those can be true.”

  “Choose one of them, and we’ll make the future different.”

  I raise my gaze to the Mantis demon. She watches me with greedy interest, a small smile curling her tiny mouth. “This is the part where you fail. It’s where everyone fails. Accept your defeat and you may avoid the torture pits. I can be merciful, you know.”

  My inner wrath demon stirs in my belly. “If these are my two options for reality, I reject them both.”

  “Really?” The Mantis chuckles. “Then what will you do?”

  “This!” In one swift movement, I leap onto her desk, whip my baculum out as a long-sword, and slice the Mantis clear through from shoulder to hip. The top part of her body slides off to the floor.

  “Screw you, bitch,” I snarl. “I’m here to get my kid.” Turning about, I raise my weapon high over my head. “Anyone else have other ideas? You can talk to me.”

  I have just enough time to see the shocked look on the faces of both versions of Maxon as a wall of flame bursts up between us.

  “Good job, Mommy,” says the younger Maxon. “You passed the test.”

  “You’re up next, Dad,” snarls the older one. “And I know just what’s waiting for you, too.”

  The flames burn more brightly, charring my skin. In the searing pain and maze of fire, I somehow find Lincoln’s hand.

  “What is it?” Lincoln asks Maxon. “What’s coming next?”

  “The torture pits,” says the older version of our son. “You’re going to fail your test, Daddy-O, no question about it.”

  With that, the flames engulf us both and the room disappears.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The vines set me down into a forest of cherry trees in full bloom. Lincoln stands by my side. Before us, an arched wooden bridge leads to a four-story red pagoda. Pink blossoms are everywhere.

  This scene should make me feel familiar and safe. I’ve been on Demon Patrol in Japan before, and there are plenty of places that look like this. Only this spot has an extra addition that makes me feel anything but secure.

  A geisha stands at the center of the bridge. The hem and sleeves of her white kimono drip with blood. Even from this distance, I can see her long red nails.

  It’s Sakura.

  She stares at us intently, her pale white face tilted to one side. She raises her arm and waves us over, but I’m in no mood to move quickly on this one. “Do you think that’s really her or an illusion?”

  Lincoln eyes her carefully. “It’s her, all right. She must live in Hell.”

  “In that case, I suppose we better go.”

  Lincoln moves to stand right in front of me. “Answer me one thing first.”

  “Sure.”

  “Back in your personal hell, both versions of Maxon were false.”

  “They better be.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t.” My voice catches as I picture the two tortured versions of my son. “Maxon being broken like that? It’s my worst nightmare. I couldn’t accept that it could be true.” A sad smile rounds my mouth. “I suppose I was too stubborn to follow the rules.”

  He gently kisses my forehead. “Keep on being stubborn, Myla. It’s gotten us this far.”

  I set my hand onto his neck, feeling his silky hair tickle my palm. “I’ll try.”

  Sakura raises both her arms. “Over here, now. I won’t hurt you. I’m must administer your test.”

  “Oh, well.” Lincoln slips his hand into mine. “We can’t keep the evil blood witch waiting.
”

  We step through the cherry trees and climb the bridge toward Sakura. Up close, I can see the sickly blue color of the skin around her eyes and hands. I’ve seen that happen to warriors on the battlefield. She’s dying.

  Good. The little bitch had something to do with Maxon being abducted. I hope she keels over in front of us.

  Sakura’s gray eyes inspect me from head to toe. “You hate me, Great Scala.”

  “Sure, I do. Release my son from whatever spell you cast and maybe I’ll hate you a little less.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” says Sakura. “But I can show you the truth of what happened. Follow me.” She turns and shuffle-walks toward the pagoda.

  Once she’s out of earshot, I whisper to Lincoln. “I think we should see where this goes, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t like it. This whole situations screams ‘trap’ to me.”

  “Me, too. Glad I’m not the only one.”

  Sakura pauses at the pagoda’s entrance and then waves us in. Keeping a tight grip on each other’s hands, Lincoln and I follow her inside.

  “Let’s have tea.” Sakura shuffles across the room, the bottom of her robes dragging a trail of blood behind her.

  My warrior sense makes me pause at the doorway, assessing the scene for any hidden dangers. The pagoda’s interior is a tall space that’s sparsely decorated. There’s a wooden floor, bare white walls, and a small low table set with a Japanese teapot and cups. That’s it. Nothing screams booby-trap, but that doesn’t stop my sense of caution from flying through the roof.

  Sakura sits down at one side of the table and starts to pour tea. She gestures to a line of floor cushions. “Have a seat.”

  We walk across the floor and sit down on the opposite side of the table. With each step, I fight the urge to turn and run for my life. Something about this blood witch screams danger.

  Our hostess gestures around the room. “Do you like my home?”

  I glance about, mostly for show. “It’s nice, for Hell. I guess.”

  “I’ve cast many enchantments to make it more comfortable. Unfortunately, this is the only place in the after-realms where my enemies can’t reach me.” She lifts her teapot from the tabletop. “Would you like some tea?”