Armageddon Rules

by J. C. Nelson

  Inside, the apartment still looked as if the previous owner lived there (which he didn’t) and like he was still around (he was). Ari brought out a tea kettle and poured three cups, then sat back on a couch, the cover of which looked like woven hair. She clinked her spoon against the cup, like ringing a dinner bell. “Larry, I’m having tea with Marissa. Are you going to join us?”

  The basement door blew open, and a ghastly form made of shadows flowed out.

  I nodded to him. “Larry.”

  He looked at me with those dull red orbs that passed for eyes, a look that said he would rather be devouring my spirit than sipping tea. “Marissa.”

  That one word took five syllables. I didn’t have the patience to talk with liches. I was supposed to have evicted this one a few years ago. Evictions were cheaper than exorcisms and worked about as often, but the day I went to court to close it, I made a nasty discovery.

  I still remember standing there in my business suit with my property attorney at my side, while we waited for the lich to fail to make an appearance. They never showed—being bound to the place of one’s death limited mobility options. Right as the judge was getting ready to approve it, the courtroom door swung open.

  In lurched a postman, his mailbag still hanging from his side. He moved in awkward, jerky movements like a teenager at his first dance. The postman staggered to the bench and handed a scrawled paper to the judge. A few minutes later, when I should have been filing the new deed, I was sitting outside asking our lawyer how we got beat by a possessed postman.

  I spent the better part of the next year fighting him. Well, technically him. Whether it was the grandma in her walker, or the hipster on his single-speed bike, they all developed an unholy knowledge of property law when possessed by Larry the Lich. I think the low point was getting hit with attorney’s fees by an eight-year-old boy.

  At that point we actually did research and discovered that before death, Larry the Lich had been Larry Gulberson, Attorney at Law. That was before he took up a more respectable profession, committing unspeakable acts of evil.

  So we negotiated a new contract. Technically, Grimm and Larry did, and Ari sublet the top three floors from an undead spirit of wrath. He wasn’t a terrible landlord for someone bound to this plane only by the sheer weight of his hatred and malice. Ari claimed he wasn’t that bad, once you got past the glowing eyes, spectral form, and tendency to devour the meter man. She always did find the positive things.

  So Ari went with me when we needed to hunt uglies. She helped me out when I needed to tame something nasty. Even if she was part princess and part sorceress, I trusted her.

  I stood at the coffee table. “You’re late. Work started hours ago.”

  “I didn’t feel like coming in today. Summer semester tests are next week and I need to study more.” Ari made a terrible liar, her cheeks bright red, her hand over her mouth.

  “I need your help with a new piper. She’s a mess. Got so many piercings she looks like a tackle box, and more tattoos than the Detroit Lions cheerleading squad. I could use a hand.” I took my tea and sat down beside her. As I did, I winced where the fabric of my pants rubbed fresh burns.

  Ari looked at me and nodded. “Liam singed you again?”

  “Yeah.” My boyfriend, Liam, burned with more than desire.

  Ari stood up. “I’ll get you some ice. Where’d he get you this time?”

  I gave her the look.

  She stopped for a moment, then opened her mouth. “Oh. You want burn cream?”

  “No. Remind me to ask Grimm for help when we get back to the Agency.”

  Ari nodded. “How was the film festival?”

  “Wonderful. I watched this movie—all in French—you’ve got to see it.” I stopped, since Ari’s eyes glazed over like I’d wrapped her in a plastic bag again. Liam stayed by my side through three days of foreign-language films. I think he spent more time watching me than the movies.

  “You’re thinking about him. You get that smile when you do.” Ari blushed, happy for me that at least I’d found my happy, if not the ever after.

  “We’ve got work to do. I’m sorry about the driving test. I’m sorry about the magic test, and I’m sorry about the civics exam. I’ve got a lobby full of potential clients, and I’m missing my right-hand woman.”

  Ari stared at me for a moment. “We don’t get the results of the civics test until tonight.”

  “Well, in that case I have a feeling you’ll be doing the makeup exam. Now go get dressed for business, and we’ll try doing something you’re good at.” She left me with the lich, and as she walked out the mood in the room changed.

  I knew Grimm negotiated safety for folks who stayed out of the basement. As the lights flickered and black smoke began to ooze out from the lich like tendrils, I kept my cool. “Larry, you hear about her driver’s test?”

  The tendrils paused for a moment and stopped snaking toward me. Larry nodded.

  “When it comes to driver’s tests, that girl is cursed.”

  The lich shook his head, managing to keep it attached. Not bad for someone who’d been dead a few decades.

  “Sorry,” I said, “I don’t mean actually cursed. She just has really bad luck.”

  Again the lich shook his head. Then he drifted over toward one of the towering bookcases and began to point one-by-one at black bound tomes as if counting. He stretched out a skeletal hand toward one and beckoned to me with the other.

  If it were anyone other than Grimm who laid out the contract Ari signed before moving in, I’d have worried. Your normal rental agreement detailed due dates and damage waivers. Grimm’s covered every conceivable way an evil spirit might want to harm a person in the house. We rented a truck to move the paper version of the contract after Grimm drafted it. I took out the book the lich pointed to and gave it a glance, trying to make sense of triangle-based hieroglyphics.

  “I don’t read anything but English.” I went to put the book back, but he held out a hand, stopping me. One claw touched the book and a vapor-like mist seeped out from what remained of the finger bones. Through the mist, the letters crawled like maggots, rearranging themselves into words I could read. Also, I wasn’t hungry anymore. Celestial Law, Volume Three Hundred, read the title.

  I opened the book, and a wind began to whip through the room, blowing Ari’s mail into the air and flipping the pages until at last it died down. Again the lich did the maggot words thing. I read the chapter title: “The Exchange Principle.”

  I struggled through the first paragraph, then followed a bone finger to a single sentence. “For everything given, something must be taken. For every blessing, a curse.”

  At the words blessing and curse I shivered for reasons of my own. Blessings, curses, no real difference. I’ve had a curse do great things for me and a blessing do awful things. I had one of each. “This isn’t about me. I was talking about Ari.”

  He shook his head again and pointed up the stairs. That got my mind to work. Ari, through no fault of her own, was a princess. Born to a royal family, though the royal families these days had long since traded throne rooms for boardrooms. My point being, as part of their contract with the universe, members of the royal families had what could only be described as ridiculous luck.

  Reality itself bent over backwards to make things work out for them. Vicious creatures like hellhounds loved them, evil creatures like wraiths tolerated them, and hungry creatures like wolves would rather eat gym-sock soup than a single bite of princess. But maybe, I thought, all this came at a cost. If the only cost was not being able to drive, that was quite a bargain.

  “Larry, are you trying to devour Marissa again?” Ari stood on the stairs dressed in a standard black business suit with white shirt. She looked almost professional, but still cute.

  The lich shook his skull and held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Larry was explaining something to me. On his best behavior, I promise.” I exchanged a glance with the lich and returned the boo
k to its place. Then I took Ari and got the hell out of the haunted house she called home.

  Two

  BACK AT THE Agency, the kobolds were gone, the frog folks were presumably in with Grimm, and Payday George was still pinning down a chair in the lobby. Ari and I slipped past him and down the hall toward the room where I’d left our new piper.

  Standing at the doorway, hand on knob, I looked to Ari. “Ever seen a new piper before?”

  She shook her head.

  I believed in trial by fire, so I threw the door open. “Beth, I’d like you to meet the agent who will be helping me with your case, Princess Arianna Thromson.”

  At her title, Ari blushed and narrowed her eyes. She stomped into the room, kicking a rat so it sailed through the air and hit the wall with a thud. “My name is Ari. It’s what you’ll call me if you want help.”

  “I asked Ari to help because princesses have a way with creatures. I figure she can tame your friends here until you learn to control them.” The threadbare, ragged state of Beth’s clothes said she’d been living on the street. “I’m going to set you up at a motel on the south side. It’s such a dump, the rats are a step up from their usual clientele.”

  Beth wiped a smear of pizza sauce from her cheek and nodded. “When do I get rid of them?”

  I gave her a hug, ignoring the fact that her bra squirmed. “You’ll need to complete your paperwork. It’s going to take a bit for me to find what we need, but you can come back tomorrow and get started.” I had a contractor take her down to a taxi and headed back to my office, Ari in tow.

  I tapped on the mirror, just because the Fairy Godfather hated being treated like an aquarium fish. “Grimm, you got a moment?”

  He swirled into view and gave Ari a glance that made me sorry for her. “Of course. I’m ordering a frog potion. Ari, I’ll need you to head over to Kingdom and acquire it from the Isyle Witch this afternoon.”

  Ari stared at the floor. Neither of us could stand the Isyle Witch, for good reason. I glanced at the scars on my left hand and shivered. “Grimm, shouldn’t that be an anti-frog potion?”

  Grimm shook his head. “They waited over a month to contact me about their son, so I’m afraid that’s out of the question. After some counseling, the family has accepted a relocation package to a swamp in Louisiana. The cost of living is much lower, there’s a lovely bog waiting, and I think the mother will definitely look good in green.”

  Ari looked up at Grimm. “Marissa told me about the civics test.”

  Grimm nodded. “There’s a retake on Thursday. I’m certain you’ll do better this time. And I’ll schedule you another appointment at the DMV, young lady.”

  I sat up in my chair. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You ever heard of the Exchange Principle?”

  Grimm looked surprised. “Marissa, have you been dabbling in celestial law? A degree in English in no way qualifies you to negotiate with demons.”

  “No. Just learned something new about blessings and curses.”

  Grimm rolled his eyes. “Really, Marissa, I thought you had made your peace with them.”

  “I’m fine. But I think the principle applies to princesses as well.”

  Grimm thought about it a moment and nodded. “Well then, perhaps we’ll wait on the driver’s test.”

  “While you are here, I need help. Something to control Liam’s wilder side.” We’d been working for the last two years on lifting Liam’s curse, which at times left him scaly, with morning breath that could smelt copper. The cost in toothbrushes alone made finding a cure a necessity.

  Grimm rubbed his palms together, avoiding my gaze entirely. “My dear, I was thinking quite the opposite. When Liam finally gets in, the three of us need to talk. I take it from his tardiness he played poker again this weekend?”

  The mention of poker set my teeth on edge. A year ago I’d introduced Liam to the dwarves. They started a Friday-night poker game that stretched into Saturday. The last few months, Saturday stretched into Sunday, and last night, I think Liam came home after three in the morning. “Yes.”

  Grimm was smart enough not to inquire further.

  “Would you mind doing me a favor? I need to know something about the future. I could take a test, but I trust you more.” My nerves made sitting still impossible.

  “Of course. Now, let me see, I believe you are wondering if you contracted hepatitis from eating at that foul Italian restaurant. The answer is no.” Grimm smiled and nodded.

  I forced myself to look at him. “I wanted to know if I was pregnant.”

  Ari made a squeak that sounded like she was trying to communicate with the rats. Her eyes went wide with excitement, and her lips with a grin she could only have because it wasn’t her.

  Grimm didn’t leave the mirror for even a second. “Ah, a different form of infection. No, you are not. Really, if you were worried, you could have asked sooner.”

  Relief, mixed with a sadness I couldn’t pinpoint swept through me, making my arms weak and my hands shaky. “I’m sorry. The pill isn’t one hundred percent, and I worry about passing on Liam’s curse.”

  “I thought you wanted a baby.” Ari found her tongue when I’d rather she held it.

  “I do,” I said. “One day, I’ll have a family of my own, but it has to be when I’m ready. When both of us are ready.”

  “I’ll have Rosa make an appointment with your doctor. Perhaps an implant would suit you better.” Grimm started to fade out.

  “No. I need to be certain.” Grimm’s obsession with skimping on magic drove me crazy.

  Grimm looked at the floor. “I think the pill will do fine. Are you taking the ones I gave you faithfully?”

  “Like clockwork, but you aren’t listening.” I stood at my desk, trying to stay calm. “No offense, but you aren’t human, you aren’t a woman, and you’ve never been pregnant. I need your help until we are ready. Once we figure out that curse, we can talk.” I pointed my finger at him the same way I ordered our contractors around. “I want you to put that brain of yours to work. Find a foolproof way to keep me from having a cursed baby that doesn’t involve separate beds.”

  Grimm looked past me, at Ari. “Marissa, we will talk about this later, in private.”

  “Now. She lived in our apartment for three weeks. She knows.”

  Ari rolled her eyes. “I know. The neighbors know. Passengers on overhead jets know.”

  I’d been practicing my “I’m the boss, keep your mouth shut” stare for more than two years. It worked. Ari covered her mouth and looked at the floor.

  I turned back to Grimm. “Why won’t you help me?”

  Grimm threw up his hands. “I’ll make an appointment with a specialist in Kingdom. Even I can’t get you in for a few days, but I assure you, the auguries say you will not get pregnant before then.” I let him go this time.

  “Sorry, M.” Ari gave me a pat on the shoulder, knowing how much I wanted a family of my own. Then she left me alone in my office, where I dove into a pile of paperwork that threatened to ruin my happily ever after, or at least my evening.

  * * *

  THE ALARM CUT into my paperwork, a wailing screech like someone making howler monkey sausage using a live monkey.

  Grimm popped up in my mirror, something he didn’t usually do without permission. “Marissa, I’m detecting a buildup of infernal energy across the river. It’s early, but I’m afraid it might manifest as poodles.”

  I slid the desk drawer open and flipped through the custom ammunition for my nine millimeter. Balrog, klingon, ogre, there it was: poodle. I stuffed all three clips into my purse and ran for the door. Ari waited in the hallway, a shopping bag big enough to hold a pair of boots on her arm.

  “We’re heading out,” I said, and we ran for the stairs to our parking garage.

  Grimm popped into view in the rearview mirror the moment I slid into the driver’s seat. “Cross the bridge, take the expressway south, and then go west. You’ll find them in a warehouse for recliners.”
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  We raced as fast as the speed limit would let us, flying down the expressway and making right-hand turns from the far left lane. It felt like ages before we pulled up at the warehouse, a vast metal building with layers of peeling yellow paint laced with rust. I cut straight across the parking lot and skidded to a stop on the gravel at the warehouse office. If there was any hope of survivors, it would be there.

  I trotted through the office door, smelling nothing but leather. No blood. No screams. Behind the counter, a teenage girl bopped to the grind of something that sounded like country-western heavy metal.

  “Pickups are in the rear!” she said to us, continuing to dance in a way that bore absolutely no relationship to a beat so loud it threatened to shake my fillings out.

  I walked over to the counter and hit the power to her stereo. “Have you seen anything small, furry, or deadly?”

  She wrinkled her nose like my words stank and started to give a retort. I’m sure it was going to be something sassy. Something that said “I’m eighteen and you’re twenty-seven and I’m so much cooler than you.” But her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. I turned as a blast like a cannon roared beside me.

  Ari held her choice in weaponry, a Desert Eagle pistol with extended magazine. The gun dwarfed her tiny hands, and the stench of sulfur from it filled the air. In the doorway to the warehouse, the tattered remains of a toy poodle lay torn to bloody shreds.

  I’d always favored the nine millimeter. Compact, quick change on the clip, and accurate enough that I’m the limiting factor. Back when I first started training Ari, I tried to get her to use something reasonable. Something you could fit in a purse. Something you wouldn’t find mounted on a tank. Ari said if she shot something, she wanted it to stay dead.

  Another poodle bounded through the doorway, slobbering and growling like the bite of hell it was. Ari had used the momentary pause to put a pair of stylish white ear protectors on. Her second bullet almost tore the dog in half.