Armageddon Rules

by J. C. Nelson

  * * *

  I SPENT THE night at the Agency, dozing on a couch near the kitchen. Normally, I couldn’t sleep there if I had to. At night, all the remnants of Grimm’s experiments came out to play. I’d learned long ago to shut my office door and keep my gun loaded. The worst weren’t the creatures that devoured everything in the fridge about once a week, up to and occasionally including the container it came in. The worst, hands down, were the things I couldn’t see, only feel, watching me. And every once in a while, I’d catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.

  And if I was going to make this agency mine, it started with owning everything. Even the skeletons in the closet. “Hello? Anyone want to come out? Talk? This is my agency. You want to stick around, we need to set some terms. You need something, you write it on the board in my office, if you can’t talk face-to-face.”

  When I woke, a pile of meat lay on the floor next to the couch. Warning? Offering? I couldn’t tell. The only thing certain was that I had a severe cramp in my neck and a desire to put an end to this end-of-days thing. From my purse I took the address Larry gave me, and headed over. Technically, leaving Rosa and two half-witted enchanters alone constituted reckless endangerment. I figured the worst that could happen was that they’d kill themselves (hopefully) or everyone in the building (less hopefully).

  It turned out the address led me to a solid-waste transfer station. No one called them “dumps” anymore. The place was a dump. Last time I was in a place with that much garbage, it had a crazy cat lady holed up in the bedroom.

  A foreman at the gate met me, walking over with stocky stride, his hard hat pulled back at an angle. “You need to clear out, lady. This ain’t no place to play.”

  “I’m here to see someone.” I pulled out the burned address Larry gave me, then a copy of my contract.

  He glanced it over, scratching a grubby finger on his forehead. “Awww, that ain’t good.” He waved me on in through the gate, then pointed to a dilapidated trailer off to one side. “You wait in there. I’ll get the boss.”

  I sat in the trailer, which shook and rumbled as trucks came and left, until the door clattered open. In walked a black man, about six feet, about three hundred pounds of muscle, fat, and ugly. The name tag stitched to his uniform read “Eli.”

  “You the one that started another damned apocalypse?”

  “Guilty.” I waved the contract.

  Eli stalked over to seize it, leaving a grease smear across the page. “Now, this here, it’s an old-time apocalypse. Plagues. Harbingers. Speaking of which, where are they? I haven’t seen them in a few hundred years.”

  “They’re on a bus to California.”

  He stared at me with those brown eyes until I squirmed like a schoolgirl at the principal’s office. “California.”

  “Yes. Now could you please help me? My lawyer said you might be able to help.”

  Eli sat down in a lawn chair that creaked under his weight. “You know what I do, Ms. Locks? Clean up after people. Take care of their garbage. Make it so they can go on living. Every once in a while, I get to maybe save a kid or shoot a kitten out of a tree. But mostly, it’s cleaning up after humanity. Same job for the last ten thousand years.”

  I smacked my hand on the table in frustration. “I get it. I screwed up. I signed a deal, which I’ll have you know I didn’t actually sign. If I’d come to you first, or something. If I’d asked my lawyer, or something. If I’d not gone there, or something. I get it. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Give me one reason why I should.”

  “I saved someone from demons the other night. I stopped a war between Kingdom and the fae. I went through a mirror and killed a fairy who was going to wreak havoc on this city.” I figured that at least one of those ought to be worth a little help.

  Eli laughed, a deep rumble in his belly that shook the chair until I feared it would collapse. “I wouldn’t go bragging about that. If I got mugged, I wouldn’t run around saying, ‘Look at me, someone took my wallet on the subway.’ Face it, lady: You got used.”

  “By who? Grimm?” I’d almost always thought Grimm had my best interests at heart. Given what he’d kept from me, I couldn’t be certain.

  “That’s a nasty mark you got on your hand, lady. Where’d you get something like that? You look like the barbwire bracelet, or Asian character type.”

  I bit my lip, determined not to let him bait me. “I got it from the Root of Lies, but I’m guessing you already knew that.”

  He reached out a hand for mine. “May I?” At my nod, he took my hand and traced the pattern of the rose. “You ever known that thing to do something good?”

  Before the day I used it as a weapon, we’d kept the Root of Lies to frighten the truth out of uncooperative people. If you lied while holding it, thorns grew straight from it, to your heart, seeking out the lies. I’d used that little trick to kill a fairy, though given that it cut straight through me to get to her, I didn’t exactly consider it my friend. “I destroyed it killing Fairy Godmother.”

  “Destroyed? Or changed?”

  I’d seen the thorn tree that remained after Fairy Godmother died through the mirror, when Ari went off to train. I’d never been able to look at it, bent and twisted in the shape of a woman, and not feel the thorns tearing through my arm to get at Fairy Godmother. “Why?”

  “Lady, I gave up trying to understand humans a few thousand years ago. Why they do anything is a mystery to me. But I wouldn’t go around telling folks I helped the Black Queen consume what was left of a fairy. They might not take to it too well.”

  I stood, understanding why it was that Larry had said not to bother with the angels. “Thanks for your time.” I stumbled on the way out, lost, thinking less about how to get home and more about how one of my greatest accomplishments turned out to be “Marissa was someone else’s pawn. Again.”

  Eli grabbed me by the arm, his hand wrapping clear around my wrist. “I’m guessing you came here because you want some sort of magic weapon from me. Some secret way to get out of your deal.”

  I nodded.

  “Get the hell out of my trailer. I’m ready to be done with this world. You want to keep the world turning, you do it yourself.” He turned and pointed to the cabinet behind him. “People always coming round, wanting help. Holy daggers. Unbreakable swords. Hell, check this out.”

  He took a crystal vial from the cabinet and shook it. “This ain’t holy water. It’s sweat from the Authority herself. Demons don’t heal from what this does to them.”

  I held out my hand, breathing a sigh of relief. And waited. And waited. “Please?”

  “I’m a sort of magician. You want to see me do a magic trick?”

  “I guess.”

  “I call this ‘Make my problem disappear.’” He shoved me out the door and locked the trailer behind him. “Have a nice apocalypse, Ms. Locks.” With that, he stomped off into the transfer station.

  I stood there for several minutes, practically steaming. And made a decision. I was already going to Inferno for starting the apocalypse. I slipped around behind the trailer and bashed out a window. Then, using the chain-link fence, I climbed inside and helped myself to the vial of sweat. A three-foot sword or holy machine gun would be too conspicuous, but this fit in my pocket.

  If signing up to bring the apocalypse didn’t damn me to hell, stealing from angels had to finish the trick. I exited the trailer and headed where I figured I was going to wind up anyway.

  * * *

  I FOUND THE elevator in the corner of the department store two blocks down and signaled it. The bloom of red light from the shaft when the door opened said I’d found my ride. “This one’s full.” I pushed a couple of stroller jockey moms back. If they wanted to experience hell, all they had to do was give their kids sugar and go home.

  Then I gripped the elevator rail and waited as once more it did an impression of a downward pointed rocket. When the door opened, I looked out, to my surprise, at an office building
. The last time I went through a place like this, I was chasing a djinn who abused magic to make a killing on the stock market. Market lost ten percent the day I brought him in.

  A line of people in all states of disarray, from purple choking victims to a few soggy divers still gasping for one more breath that would never come. The line led up to a small desk, where a short, balding man waited to hand paperwork to each.

  You always read about the wailing of the damned. You never read about the whining, which is about all any of the folks in line did. By the time I reached the desk, I was about ready to pick up a pitchfork and go at it myself.

  The clerk kept his head down, handed me a yellow packet of paperwork labled “Welcome to Inferno,” and pointed to the right.

  “You a Dante or a Faust? Dantes can begin their tour at the terminal on 2B. Fausts, fill out this form, take a number.” He looked up for a moment, catching my gaze with black eyes like pits, and then grinned. “Marissa!”

  No matter what anyone tells you, being recognized by desk clerks in Inferno is always a bad thing. I turned and headed back to the elevator, but before I could make it there he ran over and grabbed my hand.

  “What an honor!” His voice cracked like a teenager’s as he said it. “Nick. My name’s Nickolas Scratch, and I’ll be happy to take you wherever you want to go. Are you here for a tour?”

  I shook my head. “I was hoping for a meeting.”

  “Going straight to the big guy? Wow. You met him?”

  I was busy reading the directory posted on the wall. “Nah. Did a delivery once to the North Pole with a friend. Turns out Santa hasn’t come out of that survivalist bunker in years. Lives up there in the ice and the cold, wearing reindeer skins and eating elves. I got a stocking full of reindeer guts for three years straight afterward.”

  Nick wrung his hands. “I meant our big guy. Prince of Lies. Lord of Destruction?”

  “Definitely not if I can avoid it. I’ve heard bad things about the Devil.” Bad wasn’t actually the right term, but I really didn’t want to offend the first person I met in hell. After all, he hadn’t even threatened me.

  “Oh, he’s evil, all right. And if you don’t get your paperwork done, he’ll throw your soul into a fire, for sure. If you ever do meet him, he prefers to be called the Adversary. Devil is too generic.” Nick dragged me by the hand back to his desk.

  “I was wondering if Malodin was available? I need to discuss an alternate deal with him.”

  Nick swallowed nervously. “You might not want to say that name too loud around here. He’s not on good terms with the big guy. Satan. Not Santa. I doubt Santa likes him either, but I’m telling you, since the last time Mal revolted, he’s on a short leash. If he doesn’t deliver the apocalypse this time, the Adversary’s going to personally spend time torturing him.”

  I found Malodin’s name on the directory. “Can you show me where this is?”

  Nick grabbed my arm and pulled me. “You want to see him, you have to follow me.”

  “What about them?” I looked back at the line of damned behind me.

  “They’ll wait. They’ve got all the time in eternity.” So I followed the desk clerk of hell into the maze of offices. “You might want to watch your step around here. Some of these folks are a little grumpy, on account of the heat. The ones that aren’t grumpy because of the heat are unhappy because of the ice.”

  I followed him down row after row of cracker box offices with names like “Belzior the Defiler” carved in the nameplates. As I read that name, a creeping dread crawled its way through my stomach. I knew that name, and would be better off if I disappeared before the occupant came back. Finally, we rounded a corner and stood before the largest set of double office doors I’d ever seen. A red velvet rope hung between posts, blocking the entrance.

  “Here. Malodin’s in here.” Nick scratched at the bald spot on top of his head and pointed to the doors.

  “That’s Malodin’s office?” I needed an upgrade. Heck, I could take over half the floor and not have an office that size, most likely.

  “Oh, no, that’s the Adversary’s office.”

  I reached into my pocket for the vial, determined that if I had to go out, I’d go out taking a pile of demons with me.

  “Stop!” Nick clung to my arm like a leech. “Malodin’s been stuck in there ever since that stunt you pulled with the harbingers. He’s not in a very good mood.” Then he crept over to the door and unlatched the velvet rope.

  “What are you doing? That’s probably against the rules.” Time to run. Time to head for the elevator, time to head for the hills. For anywhere but there. As I turned to flee, a group of heavyset demons tromped around the corner, each step sinking their claws into the carpet. I stopped, staring at them.

  The largest resembled a walking sore, with blisters on every inch of its gangrenous skin. Black runes covered it from head to toe. Runes I’d seen before, and hoped I’d never see again.

  The demon’s eyes narrowed, obviously going through the same mechanics.

  Nick flung himself in front of me, his scrawny arms outstretched. “Don’t you dare touch her. She’s here for an appointment with the Adversary.”

  “What? I am?” I recovered my bearing and cursed my poor lying skills. “I mean, yes. That’s exactly what I’m here for. And you better not lay a claw on me, or the Adversary’s going to hear about it.” I put my hands on my hips and gave them the boss stare.

  Belzior the Defiler began to hiss and shake, then roar with laughter, his fangs showing with each howl. Then he turned, and one claw on each of his companions, they walked away.

  “That one doesn’t like me. We sort of have a history.” I’d encountered Belzior when he was still Haniel, Archangel of Grace. I hadn’t been able to stop his transformation, but I’d cost him his heavenly power.

  “Hate would be the word you’re looking for. Oh, if I told you how many times Belzior has proclaimed his desire to slay you during company meetings, you’d build a hut out of Celestial Crystal and never leave. The other two, I think you might have shot them with holy water a week ago.” Nick flipped open the guest roster beside the door. “Let’s just pencil you in.”

  “That’s got to be against the rules. Stop that.”

  “It’s Inferno, Marissa. Following the rules would be a sin. Now, if anyone asks, you were here to see the Adversary by appointment.”

  I patted him on the back. “You know, clerks will one day rule the world. But I’m getting out of here. Malodin, I’m not afraid of. I’m not going to pick a fight with the Devil.”

  He gasped and looked up at me. “Your name is on the calendar. You have to keep the appointment, or he’ll be very angry. Besides, he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “How exactly do you know that? And how did you know my name?”

  Nick pointed to the wall, where a poster hung. “This year’s apocalypse brought to you by:” read the title, and below it was a picture so ugly I swear it came from my driver’s license. “Marissa Locks,” said Nick, pointing to my name at the bottom. “You shouldn’t be so worried. The Adversary’s not in his office. You can claim you were here and he wasn’t.”

  Disgusted, I ripped the rope out of the way and barged into Satan’s office.

  I had a better office than Satan.

  I’m guessing the double doors were actually so that the larger, more misshapen of Inferno’s citizens could get in. The inside, while large, was closer to one of our conference rooms. I glanced at the cluttered executive desk, the rack of old-style filing cabinets, and the complete lack of Malodin.

  “You know, I was expecting some sort of throne room. Where’s Malodin?”

  Nick walked up to the desk and picked up a mayonnaise jar. Inside, something distinctly insectoid crawled. “Told you he’s been in here since that stunt. Malodin’s on the Adversary’s naughty list. The Adversary spends most of his time out and about in Inferno. He’s a hands-on guy.” Nick shook the jar until shrieks of rage came fr
om the trapped demon.

  I walked over and snatched the jar from him. Sure enough, the tiny, walking-stick-like creature inside was my demonic captor. “I need to talk to you. I want out of our contract, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Malodin stopped skittering around in the jar to stare at me.

  “What do you want? Surely there’s something you can accept in trade.”

  Nick tugged at my arm. “Souls. A soul in the hand is worth seven billion in the apocalypse. Do you have any idea how many times we’ve almost brought the end days? Demons always take the sure thing.”

  My heart sank as I considered it. My soul. The part of me that made me who and what I was. Versus the end of the world and the death of everyone I loved, and quite a few people I didn’t. When I spoke, my voice shook. “Malodin, will you take my soul in exchange?”

  The glass muffled the squeaks till they sounded like the chittering of a rat.

  “I’m sorry, you’ll need to speak up.”

  Nick walked over and took the jar from me, unscrewed the lid, and dumped the demon out. In an explosion of purple smoke, Malodin rocketed to full size, standing a few heads taller than me.

  “Only thing you have that I want is my apocalypse. Now, you owe me another plague.” Then he looked over at Nick. “None of you believed I could do it. I’ll show you all.”

  Nick walked around and sat in the chair behind the desk, putting his feet up on it. “Get out of here.” I wasn’t sure if sitting behind the Devil’s desk was the ultimate sin or not, but it seemed like a phenomenally bad idea. Given that Nick just spilled a mug of stale coffee on the papers, I was going with bad idea.

  Malodin bent over to whisper. “Straight out of the book. Misery. Suffering.” Then he shuffled out.

  “What exactly are you doing?” I turned to the desk clerk once the door shut.

  “This desk is so much nicer than the one out front. And this chair both leans back and supports my lumbar. I love it.” Nick began to spin the chair around, staring at the ceiling.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Well, I have to. You have a much smaller, but I’m sure quite functional, desk to get back to. This was a waste of time.”