Armageddon (Angelbound)

by Christina Bauer

  We made it. We passed through the Veil of Fire.

  Seconds pass before Anubis appears in the shadows, holding a torch in his right hand. “You both passed through your personal hells.”

  “Barely,” I say. “Where are Kiya and Nefer?”

  Anubis straightens his stance, as if preparing his body for a blow. “They haven’t arrived yet.”

  I chuck him on the lower arm. “Sorry, Anubis. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

  “Are there any rumors about the prison break?” Lincoln asks.

  “All of Hell has been alerted,” explains Anubis. “Everyone blames it on an eel-dragon. Some fool gave her water.”

  I can’t help but smile. “That would be us.”

  A small smile rounds Anubis’s mouth. “The official word is that all the prisoners were killed. But they’d say that even if some were still at large. It wouldn’t do to have Hell’s official escape record tarnished. Nefer and Kiya may still be heading this way.” A muscle flickers along Anubis’s jawline. “How I hate waiting.” He looks at us as if to say ‘I know you’ll hate it, too.’

  No way are we standing around. I’m nipping this little misunderstanding in the bud.

  “We’re not waiting, Anubis.”

  The demigod frowns. “I thought you had to kill Armageddon to free your son. That means waiting for Nefer, doesn’t it? You can’t get this far and not fulfill Verus’s prophecy.”

  “Lincoln and I just killed the blood witch who cast the spell, so we don’t have to kill Armageddon anymore. Dead witch, spell over. We grab Maxon and go.”

  “So you won’t…wait for Nefer.”

  A small, guilty weight settles onto my shoulders. I do feel a shitty about leaving Anubis alone, especially after all he’s done for us. But Anubis is a big boy, unlike my son. At this point, my only real concern is how to get him to transport Lincoln and me into the throne room. I decide to lead with logic.

  “Hey, you said yourself that Armageddon and his entourage are at the main tower to the walls of Hell.”

  “That’s true,” says Anubis in a low voice. “He’s waiting for your father to arrive with his army.”

  “Perfect.” I shoot him a hearty thumbs-up. “Then, there’s no better time for us to free Maxon.”

  Anubis nods and stares at the fire-wall in dismay. I step up to him and gently set my hand on his shoulder. “Anubis, I know you’re worried. But we have to get in there and free Maxon. Lincoln and I can’t help Nefer here.”

  Lincoln stares up the remaining length of tunnel. “Myla and I can try to sneak in without your vines. Where does this passageway lead?”

  Anubis follows Lincoln’s stare. “To a tile in the center of the throne room floor.”

  “Great.” I roll my eyes. “That’s about the most exposed spot to surface, I bet.”

  “It is,” says Anubis. “That’s how Nefer got discovered the first time around. She wouldn’t want that for you.” He raises his arms. “I’ll have my vines set you down on the balcony. That’s your best chance for a sneak attack.”

  Cool relief washes through me. The balcony sounds like a much better deal than the middle of the floor. “Thank you, Anubis.”

  “Just get your boy.” Anubis raises his arms, and vines curl up from the ground, wrapping their slithering bodies around Lincoln and me. With a lurching haul, they pull us deep into the earth. Once again, there’s the sensation of falling through empty space. Only this time, I’m able to find Lincoln’s hand in the darkness. I smile.

  We made it. We’re off to the throne room.

  Chapter Twenty

  With slow, gentle movements, the vines shift Lincoln and I out of the darkness, setting us onto a high stone balcony.

  Together, Lincoln and I belly-crawl over to the balcony’s edge, which is a series of tall spindles topped by a wide wooden railing. My shoulder presses against Lincoln’s as we peer through the line of rods. The sight tightens my throat with excitement and terror.

  It’s Armageddon’s throne room. We’re really here.

  The chamber is long, rectangular and made of shiny black rock. Across the room, a stone staircase rises up to end in a small, square platform and a pair of stout black thrones. On those chairs sit Armageddon and his dead mother, Onyx.

  His dead mother? Really? This guy is un-freaking-believable.

  Armageddon looks creepy as usual: seven feet tall with gangly limbs and a long face. Simply looking at him makes my skin crawl with disgust.

  But as awful as Armageddon appears, he’s got nothing on the figure in the throne next to his. There sits the corpse of his mother, Onyx. She’s wrapped up like a mummy and strapped into the chair at a cock-eyed angle. Her head hangs low on her chest.

  I shake my head in disbelief. So, not only did Armageddon kill his own mother, but he’s also strapped her into the throne next to his, hip to hip through all eternity. That’s one messed-up relationship.

  Straining in the dim light, I look for Maxon’s prison box. Chests of goodies surround the stone thrones, along with a small metal cube. That’s it.

  Maxon’s right there.

  I grit my teeth, fighting the desire to rush across the room, speed up the stairs, and free Maxon. The only thing holding me back is the fact that the King of Hell now sits on his throne.

  My breath catches. I so want to kill that bastard. Now.

  A quiet moan echoes through the massive chamber, grabbing my attention. Armageddon hears it as well, and his gaze snaps to the small metal container.

  “Look who’s waking up,” says Armageddon. He stretches out his long arm, pounding on the top of the metal box with his three-knuckled fist. “The monopsyche can’t protect you much longer, you know.” He leans closer to the box. “Yes, I know you’re in his head now, Hildy. Once I’m done with Maxon, I’ll send for you later.”

  Emotions race through me. It all begins with a wave of cool relief. Sure I have the Looking Glass, but now I can see for myself that Maxon is alive. We aren’t too late. The tight, anxious pain I’ve been carrying in my chest loosens just a little bit. Even better, he’s not wide awake yet. Armageddon hasn’t had much of a chance to do damage.

  After that, comes fear. It’s obvious that the King of Hell has been sitting beside Maxon, waiting for the second that he’s conscious to start torturing my boy. My pulse kicks up a notch, thudding with such force, I can feel it in my neck.

  Finally, I’m hit with white-hot rage. Anger churns through my bloodstream, my muscles itching with the desire to run, fight, kill. Armageddon better not lay one finger on my kid.

  Another groan fills the air. Maxon’s waking up and fast.

  I turn to Lincoln, careful to keep my voice low. “Where’s the court?” Royalty never hangs out alone in a throne room. I should know.

  Lincoln frowns. “Anubis originally said Armageddon was waiting in the tower at the Walls of Hell, looking out for Xavier’s army.”

  “And they’re still hanging at the walls, but without Armageddon? That doesn’t make sense. Something’s fishy about this whole set-up. At least, there should be some guards in here, but I don’t see anyone.”

  “They’d be stationed by the doors below us. We can’t see them because we’re on the balcony.”

  “Right.” I force my breathing to slow. Dad always says that recon is the most important part of any mission. Now, we need to sit still, watch and wait. Someone will come through those doors. When they do, we’ll know who we’re up against and can make a plan.

  A long creak sounds below us. Looking down, I see the source of the noise. A pair of huge lacquered wooden doors swing open beneath me, the great iron handles wielded by a pair of frost golems. At two stories tall, the icy creatures look like the Mr. Clean guy from TV commercials back in Purgatory. They move with slow, lumbering steps, the tops of their bald heads reaching just below the balcony’s floor. Across the darkened chamber, Armageddon eyes the ice-blue monsters from his black stone throne. The look on his face turns hungry and mean
.

  I frown. “Frost golems. Those can be tricky to kill.”

  “We need a way to take them out fast.” Lincoln shoots me a knowing look. His strength is long-term battle strategy. Mine is off-the-cuff attack plans. In other words, killing these frost golems falls right in my wheelhouse. Or it would if we had any kind of weapons to kill them with.

  “I gave my baculum to Nefer, so we only have one set between us. A single baculum can’t be ignited as much. We could each have a dagger or maybe a short-sword.”

  “It’ll take us hours to kill them that way.”

  I rub my temples with my fingertips. “There has to be something I’m missing.”

  Please, let there be something I’m missing.

  Two small figures walk through the now-opened doors. Without making a sound, they march down the long red walkway. Even in the dim light, it’s obvious that their bodies are semi-transparent. These two are ghosts, no doubt about it.

  Once the spirits near the base of the staircase to Armageddon’s throne, the pair of frost golems lumber back underneath the balcony. As they pass below, I can see their liquid brains churning inside their great ice-blue skulls. A deep scraping sound fills the air, followed by a deafening slam.

  The frost golems have closed the doors once again.

  I grip my single baculum rod in my hand. There must be a way to take those frosties down. If I give myself a minute, something will come to me. No way did we get this far to get trapped up here.

  The two ghosts scale up the steps leading to Armageddon’s throne. My eyes widen as I recognize them. One spirit is missing an arm and walks with a pronounced limp. That’s a total giveaway. It’s Aldred and his daughter, Lady Adair.

  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.