Armageddon (Angelbound) (19 page)

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.

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?”

Now, I know enough about witches not to ever accept anything from them without knowing the fine print, especially if it involves food or drink. I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “What’s the catch?”

She lifts the teapot to her nose and inhales deeply from the nozzle’s steam. “Breathe in the vapor and you’ll see exactly what happened with Connor.”

“You’ll cast an enchantment?” asks Lincoln.

“No, I’ll use the same type of spell that your monopsyche cast. You’ll be able to join in my memory. That’s all.”

I drum my fingers some more. She’s so full of shit. There’s a hidden trap in here, I know it. “I find that hard to believe.”

Sakura starts pouring us each a cup of steaming tea. “This is what I believe. You’ll inhale the vapor of this tea and see what came to pass between Connor and me. After that, I’ll give Lincoln a chance to fix everything. That is his test. Will he be wise enough to pass?” She sets a teacup before each of us. “Go ahead. Inhale the vapor.”

I pick up the small ceramic cup set before me and eye the contents carefully. The liquid inside is crimson in color and has a thick consistency. My tail makes a no-no motion by my shoulder. “This is blood, not tea. I’m not getting anywhere near it.”

Sakura tilts her head. A high-pitched tinkling sounds from the many bangles in her elaborate hairstyle. “And what if I insist? Will you kill me like you did the Mantis?”

I set down my teacup. “The thought did cross my mind.”

“Suppose I cast a compulsion on myself?” asks Sakura. “The spell will ensure that no harm will come to either of you.”

Lincoln and I share a long look, and there’s an entire conversation hidden in our stare. Bottom line, it’s worth seeing her cast the compulsion spell, especially if it ends with giving us the truth about Connor. That kind of information could make the difference between life and death on this mission.

“Alright,” says Lincoln. “Cast the spell.”

Sakura circles her own teacup by her chest. A long stream of vapor rises from the liquid, swirling and churning until it takes the form of a woman’s face made of thick red mist. A band of silk is tied over the apparition’s eyes. Sakura inhales deeply, and the mist-spell enters her lungs. “I will not harm Lincoln or Myla while I show them my memory of Connor, nor afterward when I offer Lincoln the chance to fix his father’s mistake.” She exhales, and the mist-face appears in her breath, only this time it’s smiling.