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.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I stagger back a few steps. “That was too easy.”
“Agreed.”
“And where is everybody still?” I scan the throne room. “Two guards and a couple of ghosts? It’s so strange.”
Lincoln shakes his head. “Whatever it is, we’re taking it and getting out of here.”
A new object appears in the center of Armageddon’s ash-pile, commanding our attention. It’s a simple black helmet, the Helm of Hell. Whoever puts this on will become a greater demon and the ruler of the underworld.
On instinct, I look around for Nefer. This is her part of the plan. She was supposed to kill Armageddon, put on the Helm of Hell and become its Queen. I don’t want to touch that thing without her. Besides, freeing Maxon would be a lot easier with the Queen of Hell adding her powers into the mix.
But the room remains silent and empty. There’s no chattering of Kiya. Nefer doesn’t appear.
“Where is she?” I ask. There’s no need to explain who ‘she’ is.
“We’re not waiting to find out.” Lincoln starts scaling the stairs to Armageddon’s old throne, taking two steps at a time. “Let’s get Maxon and go.”
Adair and Aldred still stand by the wall. Aldred beams with glee. Adair looks as if the wheels of her ghostly brain are churning overtime. I can’t bother with them now, or Nefer, for that matter. Lincoln’s right. Our primary concern is freeing Maxon and going home.
Lincoln and I rush up to the metal box that holds our son. Up close, I can see it’s a simple metal cube, just like the one Armageddon held Dad in for so many years. A sickly feeling creeps up my throat. My son is in here.
A quiet whimpering sounds from inside the container. “Mommy, Daddy, is that you?” Maxon’s little voice quavers with fear. “It’s dark in here. I don’t like the dark.”
My little one’s words send alarm coursing through me. I set my mouth close to the metal. “We’re here, baby.” My voice breaks with emotion.
We came to rescue you. We made it.
I brush my finger
s lovingly across the metal top. “Now, Mommy and Daddy will get you out, okay?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Check the seams for weaknesses,” says Lincoln. We quickly run our eyes and fingertips around opposite sides of the metal box. The prison is new and lacks any obvious way to open it.
I gently tap the left wall of the box. “Stay over here, sweetie. Mommy will to cut you out of there.” I hear shuffling inside the metal container.
Maxon speaks through sobs. “Okay, Mommy. I moved.”
“That’s right, baby.” I ignite my baculum as a dagger and plunge it into the top metal panel. The angelfire barely ignites near the metal. “Baculum aren’t going to work.”
“I’ll check the treasure chests,” says Lincoln. “Maybe there is something in there that can help us.”
“Look for Dad’s old baculum. He said it might be around here. The original archangel ones can cut through anything.”
Maxon’s quiet cries fill the air. My heart cracks with worry and grief. I crouch down beside the box, speaking in a soothing voice. “Mommy and Daddy are both here, baby. Listen to me. It won’t take us long. We’ll get you out.”
I keep talking to Maxon, low and soothing. I’m not even sure what I say; I just keep up a steady stream of calming chatter while Lincoln tears through the various treasure chests by Armageddon’s throne.
As I speak to Maxon, Adair’s misty form slowly steps toward me. I’m not worried. There’s nothing she can do me as a ghost. For his part, Aldred crouches against the wall, trying to merge with the shadows. He’s such a loser.
Adair limps to stand beside me, careful to keep her back to her father.
Interesting. If I know anything about interrogations—and I’ve learned a lot the last few years—then Adair wants to say something to me. And the way she’s angling her body away from her father? She doesn’t want him to know a single word.
Adair’s mouth barely moves as she speaks. “Don’t react to my voice.”
I keep searching the box, checking and rechecking the seams. Across the room, Aldred tilts his head to one side, his ghostly eyes fixed on Adair.
“I have information,” whispers Adair. “I can help.”
Ghost or not, I know how Adair’s mind works. “In exchange for what?”
“My freedom, Myla.” She moves closer. “I want you to kill my soul.”
“What? You may be in the torture pits now, but there are other levels of Hell that are more pleasant. Now that Armageddon’s dead, a friend of mine may become Queen. I could put in a good word for you. But if I kill you now, you’ll be erased for all eternity. Are you sure you want that?”
“You heard me. Free my soul.”
Turning around, I look into her spectral eyes. Every line of her face is etched with agony. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, I’m begging you. I gave up so much for Aldred’s dreams of rule. I thought I was doing it for my father’s love, but he cares nothing for me. Every moment I’m here is pure torture, and that pain comes from not from the torture pits. It’s from knowing I wasted my life on empty lies. I want to be free from that. Do you understand?”
I nod slowly. “I’ll free you.”
“Thank you.” She chokes back a sob. “I’m so sorry, Myla. For everything.”
The agony in her face is almost unbearable. “I know you are. I’m glad I can give you peace.”
Aldred starts to march up the stairs, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you two gossiping about?”
“I’m calming my son,” I say in a menacing tone. “You keep your foul self away from me or I’ll skewer you into nothingness. Do we understand each other?”
He bows low. Got to hand it to the guy, he’s an ace at groveling. “Yes, Great Scala.”
“Get back to your place against the wall. I want you where I can see you.”
“As you command.” Aldred scurries away.
I reignite my baculum as a dagger. “Are you ready, Adair?”
“Wait,” she says quickly. “There’s something you need to know. I…” She swallows on against another sob.
“What is it?”
“It’s Armageddon.”
“What about him?”
“He’s not dead. That was an enchanted double in case someone broke in to save Maxon. The real Armageddon is in the tower at the Walls of Hell, watching the Plains of Fire. He’s waiting for Xavier’s army to attack.”
My heart sinks. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. We didn’t kill Armageddon; this was all his back-up plan. Schemes within schemes, including a fake helm. How very Armageddon of Armageddon. Damn, I hate that guy.
“We don’t need to kill Armageddon any more. If he’s up at the Walls of Hell, then he can stay there for all I care. I’m getting my kid and making tracks.”
“There’s more. That helm is booby-trapped.” She glances nervously around the room. “You have to kill me now. If he finds out what I’ve told you—”
“I’ll keep my word, Adair. Tell me about the trap.”
“The helm is a bomb on a timer.”
“What kind?” I’ve learned a lot about booby traps while on demon patrol.
“A pretty basic variety, I think. A level one demon made it.”
“Why so low?”
“Everyone’s who’s useful is at the wall, waiting for your father.”
“That’s good, then. Level one means we’ll get some ticking before it goes off.”
“Still, when it explodes, it won’t hurt ghosts like me. And Maxon will be protected in his prison. But you and Lincoln?” She shakes her head. “You need to run.”
“I’m not leaving my son. And if it’s on a timer, then you said a key word. Time. We have some and we’re going to use it.” I gesture to Lincoln. “Any luck over there?”
“Not yet.” A small pile of odd junk lies around his feet.
“We’ve got a countdown to worry about here.”
Lincoln freezes, his gaze shifting between Adair’s frightened face and my look of steely resolve. He knows both of us well enough to get the gist of what’s going on without playing twenty questions. “How much longer do we have?”
Adair raises five fingers in my direction. “We’ve got five minutes.”
Lincoln tears open another treasure chest. “This is the last one. There’s got to be something in here.” The last wooden box is so huge, Lincoln has to crawl inside to pull all the items out. He can no longer see what’s happening with Adair and me.
“And is that all you have to tell me?” I ask Adair.
“Isn’t it enough? Now, save yourselves and run!”
“From my kid? Never.” I stand up, adjust my grip on my dagger, and stab her straight through the heart. “I’m so sorry, Adair.”
She crumples forward, smiling. “I’m not.” The particles of her body disappear.
I bow my head. “Goodbye, Lady Adair,” I say in a low voice. “In the end, you died a true thrax.”
With an overly dramatic gasp, Aldred races up to the spot where Adair fell. “What have you done to my daughter?”
Sure. Like he really cares.
“Only what she asked me to. Seems your own daughter couldn’t stand eternity with you.”
“No matter.” He smiles greedily. “I’ll have Connor for company, soon enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you notice I bypassed Purgatory and went straight to Hell? That’s a little unexpected side-effect of the deal Connor and I made with Sakura.”
“She’s dead now. That can’t hurt him.”
“Ah, but is Connor dead?” Aldred watches my face carefully and smiles. “I can see that he is. And he died while Sakura was alive, I bet. That means he went straight to the torture pits, just like I did. How lovely.”
“That’s enough out of you, once and for all.” I flip the grip on my baculum dagger, lean forward, and stab the old creep deep in his belly. “Adair didn’t ask me for this, by the way, but I’m th
rowing it in for free. Whatever Adair became, I’ve no doubt it’s all your fault, you crazy bastard.” I slide my blade out from his gut and watch him slowly disappear. A warm sense of satisfaction blooms through my rib cage.
That was a long time in coming.
Maxon pounds on the box’s metal walls, refocusing my attention. “Mommy, where are you? Don’t leave me.”
I crouch down beside the container once again. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Daddy and I aren’t going anywhere.”
“I found something,” cries Lincoln. He runs over in my direction, holding an elaborate sword-hilt.
“That’s it. Dad’s old baculum.” My heart lurches at the sight. Something about it calls to me. My fingers itch to wrap around the golden hilt and kick ass.
Lincoln tosses it my way. “Make him proud.”
Closing my eyes, I imagine the baculum igniting as a dagger. It becomes one, only with orange hues that dance inside the white flame. I tap the left side of the box again. “You still over here, baby?”
“Yes, Mommy. Hurry!”
I raise my arms over my head, and with all my strength, I bring the dagger down into the top right corner of the box’s upper panel. The blade slides through the metal.
“I see it, Mommy!”
“You’ll be out soon, baby.” I turn to Lincoln and smile. “We’re close.”
Lincoln opens his mouth to speak, but a great roar echoes through the throne room, drowning out any words from his lips.
“Open these gates!” cries a guttural voice. “On the command of the King of Hell.”
Lincoln looks at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What’s going on?” He scans the throne room. “What happened to Aldred and Adair?”
“Adair traded me information in exchange for her death. We didn’t kill Armageddon; it was a double. The real deal is up at the Walls of Hell, watching for Dad’s army. Once we killed the double, he must have sent his guard down to investigate.”
“Open up!” cries the rasping voice again. “On the order of the King.”
“We better work fast,” says Lincoln. “It won’t take them long to bring the battering ram.”
Armageddon (Angelbound) Page 19