Henry skidded to a halt. The door was closed, but when he tried it, he found it unlocked. He almost groaned with relief as he hurled himself down the narrow spiral staircase.
But his relief was short-lived. Even before he reached the bottom, he could hear the howling. Blue had begun the obscene ceremony that would finally unlock the gates of Hell.
One hundred and four
Pyrgus overrode the safeties as the flier reached Imperial Island. He sent out a single burst of code that would neutralise the palace security system, then pitched the nose of the craft towards the lawn outside the main entrance doors.
‘Straps,’ he ordered. Nymph and Woodfordi were immediately secured to their seats by body-netting. Woodfordi’s knuckles showed white where he gripped the arms. ‘Dive,’ Pyrgus muttered.
There was an elemental scream as the flier went into a steep descent with no loss of speed. Pyrgus kept his eyes firmly fixed on his target, a level area between two flowerbeds. The ground rushed towards him with indecent haste. He waited, heart thumping, until it seemed he could almost reach out and touch it, then commanded, ‘Land!’
The flier attempted to comply, but Pyrgus had left things far too late. The tulpa thought-forms built into its propulsion system read the situation in an instant, reinstated the safeties and hurled the craft back upwards. It banked, struck a tree branch and cracked open like an egg. Pyrgus fell out to drop in a heap on the ground. Nymph and Woodfordi dangled from their netting.
‘That was exciting,’ Nymph remarked. She pulled a knife from her boot and cut herself free, holding on to the seat with one hand. Then she clambered on to the branch and released Woodfordi.
‘Thanks, Miss,’ he murmured gratefully. ‘I thought I was a goner for sure.’
‘So did I,’ Nymph told him. She swung from the tree and dropped nimbly to the ground, leaving Woodfordi to his own devices. Pyrgus was already on his feet, limping towards a running guard contingent that had just emerged from the palace.
‘I’m all right!’ he called over his shoulder.
Nymph smiled a little to herself.
‘Escort us to Queen Blue!’ Pyrgus called grandly to the approaching guards. He suddenly noticed a tall figure on the palace steps. ‘Mr Fogarty, can you arrange to get Blue and the Generals together – and Madame Cardui. There’s news.’
To his surprise, Mr Fogarty ignored the urgency in his voice and came down the steps towards him. The guards fanned out and surrounded them both, then parted to allow Nymph and Woodfordi through.
Fogarty said, ‘Christ, it’s all happening tonight.’ He looked beyond Pyrgus at the wreckage in the tree. ‘Have you any idea what those bloody things cost?’ He looked back at Pyrgus. ‘Henry’s just gone off his head as well.’
Pyrgus gripped his arm and leaned across to whisper, ‘Beleth’s army is an illusion! The portals aren’t real either. There’s no demon invasion and Uncle Hairstreak’s marching all the Nighter forces into the desert.’
Fogarty stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he said.
One hundred and five
Beleth was shifted into his most powerful form. Curling ram’s horns grew out of his forehead. His teeth were smiling fangs, his body knotted muscle. Only his height was curtailed, perhaps because of having been encased in the altar: he was little more than six feet tall. A blood-red cloak swept from his shoulders to his ankles. His feet were bare and Blue could see that each toe ended in a wicked talon. His eyes bored into hers.
Beleth shook himself as if to throw off any remnants of the porphyry block. The brass wall at his back was changing, each plate flowing liquidly into its neighbour before sliding downwards. For just the barest instant Blue wondered if the pentagram circle might contain him, but he threw back his cloak and strode towards her.
Blue took a step forward and threw herself into his arms.
‘My darling,’ she whispered breathlessly as she stretched up to kiss him.
One hundred and six
‘ Nooo! ’ Henry screamed. Beyond Blue and the devil, the wall had disappeared so that the chamber opened up, impossibly, on to a scene that chilled his blood. He was overlooking a vast metallic plaza, surrounded by squat, black buildings underneath a lowering sky. Set to one side of the plaza were twin thrones carved from obsidian and ornamented with complex inlays of what might well have been gold. Ranged before the thrones, row upon row, were thousands, tens of thousands, of horned demons. All were on their knees.
Henry ran. He had no weapon, but he struck Beleth with his shoulder so violently that the creature staggered. ‘Leave her alone, you bastard!’ Henry screamed. He punched and kicked the demon with a flurry of blows.
Beleth brushed him off like a gnat.
Henry was thrown violently across the floor. His foot caught in the remnants of the porphyry altar so that he stumbled and fell heavily. Beleth strode across and kicked him violently with one taloned foot. Henry’s clothing ripped and blood welled from the gash across his stomach.
‘Henry!’ Blue gasped. She felt a jolt as if she’d been kicked herself.
Henry’s eyes glazed, then slowly closed.
Beleth turned back to Blue with a smile.
‘Is he dead?’ she whispered.
The devil shook his head. ‘Not yet. Perhaps we should keep him as a sacrifice to celebrate our marriage.’ His eyes bored into her. ‘Would you like that, my dear?’
After a moment, Blue said dully, ‘Yes.’
Beleth took her hand and led her through the open wall. There was an instant of transition as the ancient magics gripped, then they were standing on the metal plaza. The kneeling demons prostrated themselves at once, foreheads pressing on the metal pavement. Beleth’s voice rose to the intensity of thunder.
‘Behold my new consort and your Queen!’ The kneeling demons roared approval.
Blue glanced behind her. Two of Beleth’s demons had entered the pentagram chamber and were dragging out Henry’s prostrate body. He looked more dead than alive. There was a sickness in her stomach, but she pushed it down savagely. Nothing must interfere with her duty to the Realm.
‘Not quite the truth,’ said Beleth quietly, ‘but soon you will be both.’
He led her to the smaller of the two thrones and waited politely until she was seated before sitting himself. She looked out over the sea of demon backs as the creatures began to climb to their feet and moved in regimented segments to take their appointed places.
The demons loved formality and ceremonial, that was for sure. All Beleth’s closest attendants were robed, horned and cloaked, their faces sharp and eyes aglitter. Beyond them stood rank upon rank of demon guards, naked for the most part, with the low light reflecting dully on their scales. Four enormous devils who moved to occupy the cardinal points sported barbed, prehensile tails.
The atmosphere was sulphurous, oppressive and very, very hot. Blue felt a bead of perspiration trail down one side of her face. Two ancient chamberlains carried a sturdy oak-wood table across the plaza and placed it directly in front of the thrones. This would be for the signing of the marriage pact, she thought.
The sense of occasion was heightened by the standard-bearers who moved quickly to surround the table on three sides. They were all imps dressed in eye-jarring motley where complementary colours flashed and clashed without the aid of a single woven spell. For the banners themselves, scarlet and black predominated, reflecting the heavy brocade now being spread across the table.
She forced herself not to look directly as the two demons dragging Henry dumped him in a heap against one table leg. He was still alive but unconscious, his breathing laboured. She had an uncomfortable feeling she might be required to drink his blood as part of the ceremony. If any of his blood remained. His clothes were already saturated from the wound in his stomach.
Beleth cleared his throat and stood on his throne to give himself more height. He looked imperiously around the assembled throng. ‘This is an a
uspicious occasion,’ he intoned in a voice that seemed too large for both mouth and chest. ‘A formal Marriage Pact – the first of its kind – between a ruling Prince of Darkness and a ruling Queen of Faerie.’ He was forced to pause by the spontaneous cheering of his subjects.
The noise died down eventually and Beleth continued with a speech that was liberally peppered with words like ‘historic’, ‘proud’, ‘significant’ and ‘era’. Blue listened politely, but when he at last climbed down and sat back on his throne, she leaned over and said quietly, ‘What about the boy?’
Beleth glanced at her and frowned. ‘What about him?’ he rumbled.
‘He’s still unconscious,’ Blue hissed. ‘If he’s to be a sacrifice, shouldn’t he be awake so he can suffer?’
Beleth contrived to look surprised and pleased at the same time. ‘Quite right, my dear. Our tradition calls for a slow and agonising death. Quite pointless if he sleeps through it.’ He turned to growl something at one of his attendants. In moments, two demon healers were kneeling at Henry’s side. Blue noted with satisfaction that his eyes opened almost at once, but the healers did nothing for his wound.
A creature that was mostly arms and legs scurried forward to deposit an enormous leather-bound tome on the table. Blue stared at it with interest. This was almost certainly the fabled Book of Pacts which recorded every significant treaty the devils ever made, dating back five centuries. She’d heard that somewhere, stored in fireproof chests hidden in the deepest depths of Hael, was an entire library of such books from even earlier times. She doubted anything they recorded was likely to match what was planned here.
‘Never a contract such as this one,’ Beleth boomed, almost as if he’d picked up her thought. She glanced at him quickly, but his expression betrayed nothing. Blue forced herself to relax. This was a vital moment for the Realm.
It was time. Blue could feel anticipation in the waiting demons like a physical fog. In minutes, she and Beleth would be married. She prayed Henry would understand what she was doing.
An ancient ceremonial pen was produced now; and a sheet of virgin parchment. It was all tradition at this stage. The pen was a sharpened eagle’s quill, the parchment made from lambskin, carefully cured, bleached and dried. It had a creamy colour and a pleasing texture. The writing was black ink in a strong copperplate hand outlining the terms of the marriage contract. Once signed, the document would last for ever.
‘The Pact,’ said Beleth smugly to a murmur of appreciation from the gathered throng. In his reverberant voice he began to read it, clause by clause.
Blue paid little attention. Their agreement was simple enough in its essence. It committed her to obey her future husband in return for his protection. Obey in all things was the exact wording. While the terms were personal, the implications were political. The Pact would deliver the demons control of the Faerie Realm.
‘Do you agree the terms?’ Beleth asked her formally.
From the corner of her eye she could see Henry turn to look at her. She hesitated. Could there be another way?
‘My dear…?’ Beleth urged.
Blue straightened her back. ‘I do,’ she said.
One hundred and seven
There were howls of excitement from the assembled demons. Blue sat stiffly on her throne. She could see the look of shock on Henry’s face, although he must have known what was happening. A part of her wanted to shout to him to run, to save himself. But that would achieve nothing now.
Besides, she was certain he would never leave her.
‘Then let the Pact be signed!’ Beleth announced grandly.
The verbal agreement was nothing. Hael tradition required a written contract, signed in blood. Blue knew where her duty lay.
Heralds blew a fanfare of sinister trumpets. The sound reverberated chaotically off the surrounding metal buildings. A minion scurried forward with a razor and a tiny golden bowl.
Beleth turned to look at her and smiled. Then he took the blade and without hesitation, slashed the palm of his left hand so that a quantity of greenish blood flowed into the bowl. He seized the quill, dipped it and signed his name on the lambskin with a flourish.
The demons cheered. Beleth bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. He smiled at her again. ‘Now you, my dear. Be brave.’
The minion wiped out the bowl with a clean piece of linen, then handed the razor to Blue.
With one last longing glance at Henry, Blue leaned across the thrones and savagely cut Beleth’s throat from ear to ear.
‘Goodbye, my dear,’ she said.
One hundred and eight
They convened in the Throne Room.
‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ Pyrgus was saying. ‘All I know is that Beleth doesn’t have real troops in the desert. Or real portals either. It’s all a big bluff.’
‘To do what?’ Fogarty asked him crossly. ‘What’s the point?’
‘You could try asking Henry – he’s the one’s been spending time with demons.’
‘Henry’s not here,’ Fogarty snapped. ‘I told you that. We were talking about Blue and he ran off.’
Madame Cardui arrived a little late. ‘Blue’s not in her rooms,’ she said at once. ‘I’m worried.’
Pyrgus said, ‘She’ll be safe in the palace.’
Madame Cardui looked at Fogarty. ‘You haven’t told him about Blue’s implant?’
Pyrgus looked from one to the other. ‘Implant? What implant?’
‘So I forget things,’ Fogarty said irritably and shrugged. ‘He’d just crashed his flier into a tree, for God’s sake!’
Madame Cardui said, ‘Beleth had Blue implanted like Henry. To give her false memories.’
‘Wait a minute -’ Fogarty said suddenly.
‘What’s an implant?’ Nymph asked. It was the first time she’d spoken since their dramatic arrival.
‘Wait a minute -’ Fogarty said again. He was frowning. ‘That’s not making sense. We assumed the false memories were a diversion to distract attention from Beleth’s invasion. But Pyrgus has just told us the invasion is phoney too.’ He stopped and looked from face to face.
Madame Cardui took it up. ‘So what was the real reason for Blue’s implant?’
‘And where is Blue now?’ Pyrgus whispered.
‘Right behind you,’ Blue said grimly.
One hundred and nine
There was blood on her dress, blood on her hands, blood splattered along her bare arms. There was blood smeared on her face. Henry was a pace or two behind her. There was blood oozing through his clothes.
‘Get Henry to the infirmary,’ Blue said.
‘You’re hurt, deeah!’
Blue shook her head. ‘This isn’t my blood.’ Pyrgus ran to throw his arms around her. She began to shake violently. Tears cut through the bloodstains on her face.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ Fogarty demanded.
Blue clung to Pyrgus and her tears turned to a ghastly, gurgling giggle. ‘I’m Queen of Hael now, Mr Fogarty,’ she said; and fainted.
She awoke in the infirmary, feeling hugely better despite the pain in her head. She raised a cautious hand to touch the bandaging.
‘It’s out,’ said a familiar voice.
Blue turned slowly. ‘Where’s Henry, Mr Fogarty?’
‘He’s fine. Had to have stitches, but he’s fine.’ He held a small metallic cylinder between his finger and thumb. ‘They planted this inside your brain. Interesting, eh? Henry got off easier. His was just lodged in his sinus cavity. Beleth must have wanted them to do two different things.’
‘Yes,’ Blue agreed.
Fogarty said, ‘There are an awful lot of demons in one of the palace cellars.’
‘They won’t give you any trouble,’ Blue said.
‘I noticed that,’ said Fogarty. He cocked his head to one side and looked at her. ‘Can you remember?’
‘Yes. Everything.’
‘Henry lost his memory when we took out his implant.’
‘It must be different with faeries.’
‘So what happened?’
Blue looked past him through the picture window into the morning sunlight. She had clearly been unconscious for hours. ‘Beleth wanted me to marry him. That way he could control the Realm. The deep brain implant meant he could manipulate my thoughts and emotions.’
‘That’s what Henry told me,’ Mr Fogarty said. ‘The business in the desert was a diversion.’
‘More like a distraction,’ Blue said. ‘He wanted to keep everyone so worried you wouldn’t suspect what was really happening. It was a very complicated plan.’
‘What went wrong with it?’ Fogarty asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Blue said honestly. She pushed herself up in the bed and gave a small, bleak smile. ‘When they put that thing in my brain, I actually felt attracted to Beleth. But it was more than that. I thought the marriage would be good for the Realm. It felt as if it was my duty.’
‘When did you stop feeling that?’
Blue said, ‘When Beleth attacked Henry.’
Fogarty rolled the cylinder in his fingers. ‘Know what’s interesting? I had a look at this thing when they took it out. The insides are burned out.’
‘Are they?’ Blue asked mildly.
‘It takes a lot to burn out one of those implants – almost impossible, in fact. You must love him very much,’ Fogarty said quietly.
‘Yes,’ Blue said. ‘Yes, I do.’
After a moment Fogarty said, ‘Henry says you cut Beleth’s throat.’
Blue’s eyes glazed slightly as she nodded.
‘Weren’t you afraid?’
‘Very.’
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