Armageddon Rules

by J. C. Nelson

  Anyone who tells you sneaking around in leather is easy or quiet has never tried it. I squeaked and rippled and finally surrendered, letting Ari peel it off. After I dressed in something sensible, I called Grimm.

  “Stand back.”

  When he spoke, I acted. I knew better than to risk being too close. The pile of leather burst into flame without smoke, glowing white-hot, then collapsing to a pile of gray ash.

  I reached up and felt for the hair combs, pulling them out. “I don’t think these will burn.”

  “Do you like them?” Grimm’s tone held that same note of sorrow.

  “They’re beautiful.” I handed one to Ari to admire the carving.

  “Then consider them yours. I don’t believe you had time to grab a matchbook from the restaurant, and it may be your only trip to the court. Liam’s flight lands tomorrow morning. You need to get some rest, Marissa. Your healing is not complete.”

  I hadn’t noticed my arms turning to lead, but somehow it happened in the instant my eyes were closed. “Couch. Help.”

  Ari handed me back the comb. “I’ve slept enough for a month, M. You can have the bed. Grimm, meet me downstairs. I need to set some wards in case that bitch decides to try something else.”

  “Michael is standing guard outside. If you would avoid hitting him with lightning or fire, it would help.” Grimm’s voice began to buzz as I drifted off. Anyone else, passing out on their bed wouldn’t have been an option.

  Thirty-Five

  THE DAY OF the apocalypse started a lot like any other day. I woke to a demon sitting in a chair, watching me. “Handmaiden.” Malodin looked less and less normal every time I met him. “It is time. The horsemen begin their circle of the city. You owe me a third plague.”

  “Grimm?” I fumbled for my bracelet.

  “Mr. Malodin, consider your message delivered. You’ll have your third plague by the time the harbingers are ready.” Grimm’s voice reassured me. He’d figure something out. He always did.

  Malodin rose, his head almost touching the ceiling on spindly legs. With each step, he looked like a spider. “I have waited two eternities. A few hours more don’t matter.” He hunched and left the room. When the door slammed below, I finally sat up.

  “Grimm? What’s the plan? You found some secret loophole?”

  Black smoke poured from the vent, forming a cloud that solidified into my lawyer. Larry shook his head, causing the cell phone to rattle against his ribs. “No such luck. I haven’t slept all night. This contract is well written.”

  “Looks like garbage to me. Even the translated one.” I shook my hair, wondering exactly how that many tangles could creep in overnight.

  “Specific language is what makes the contract so clear. Here. Read the part about the apocalypse.” Larry broke every rule known to man, shuffling through my purse without permission, and took out my copy of the contract.

  “The signer shall call down the demon apocalypse at the appointed time.” I shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

  “There isn’t much to argue about. It’s simple and effective. Unless you can get Malodin to sign the cancellation, it’s going to be hell on earth. But we did find a way to buy time.” Larry dropped the contract in my hands and drifted back.

  “Marissa, in my opinion, you were dangerously close to breach of contract with your first two plagues.” Grimm spoke from Ari’s makeup mirror. “While I applaud the audacity, your third plague will have to be more traditional. You’ve hardly unleashed anything that qualifies.”

  “You answer the door and tell me that. Malodin accepted them as plagues, that’s what counts. Going to shower.” I hadn’t planned to sleep most of the night. Early morning spent fretting over the end of the world, that was the plan.

  “Now you are thinking like a lawyer. The key to avoiding more destruction is timing. Which is why I allowed the demon to wake you.”

  “Get to the point. There’s a way to stop all this?”

  “No, my dear. But there’s a way to prevent the harbingers from joining the destruction. Their arrival is meant to be the culmination of the terror. Section 200, subsection eight, paragraph three states that the harbingers end the plague with their first act.”

  I shook my head. “Out of the frying pan and into the incinerator.”

  Grimm clicked his tongue at me in disapproval. “My dear, show some faith. If the plague is already ended by the time they arrive—”

  “They can’t join the fun.” I turned the thought over in my head, seizing at a desperate idea. “I need you to make me reservations.”

  “I’m staying put in my basement. When the world ends, it will still be safe for me. I’ll shelter Arianna there as well, if she so desires.” Larry dissolved, drifting back into the vent.

  By the time I’d turned my skin lobster red, I knew what my plague had to be. It would tick off Malodin, Grimm, and probably anyone who came into contact with it, but it was the best plan I could come up with. When I got out of the shower, I found a tiny shopping bag filled with clothes from my apartment. Ari really didn’t sleep at all, if she had time to fetch me clothes. At least I’d look good for the end of the world

  I had two buttons on when the screaming started, three when the window below smashed in, and that’s the point where I flew down the stairs.

  In the living room, Mikey hulked over, his fur glistening with dew. Beneath him, something mewled like a sick kitten. Mikey looked up at me, his face contorted, his nose long. “Morning, Marissa. Found him halfway up the trellis, peeking into your window.” Mikey drew back one claw, flexing points that could carve flesh like butter.

  “Please, stop this violence. I came to see Arianna.” Wyatt lay crumpled on the carpet.

  “Wyatt!” Ari came running from the kitchen, a cook’s apron on, a spatula still in hand. She froze, searching for her sunglasses, then gave up in frustration. “Why were you peeking on Marissa?”

  “I thought you were her. That is your bedroom.” Wyatt tried to stand up, but Mikey kept him pinned to the floor.

  “You wanted to peek on me getting dressed?” I couldn’t tell if Ari was offended or interested. Offended. Had to be offended.

  “No, I wanted to see you. I’m so ashamed of how I acted.” Wyatt slowly raised his gaze to match hers, and cringed. “I was afraid.”

  Larry came from the kitchen, bringing Ari’s sunglasses to her. “If you want me to devour his soul, let me know.”

  Ari raised the spatula like a sword. “Out. All of you, out. I need to talk with Wyatt privately. Marissa, your breakfast is in the kitchen. I made crepes. Mikey, there’s a ham in the trunk of Marissa’s car for you. Grimm, go anywhere but here. Larry, haunt the attic. Wyatt, you’ve always said that relationships require communication. So we’re going to communicate.”

  I grabbed Mikey’s arm. “I want you to go pick up Beth and have her ready to go. And I’ll have you know, you are way better than the plastic ferns.” I gave him a mock salute and wandered to the kitchen. While I devoured the best chocolate crepes of my life, and possibly the last ones of it, I called Grimm. “Can’t get the ring off.”

  Grimm showed up in the toaster. “I know. And before you ask, I can’t remove it. Magic may not—”

  “Magic oppose. I really need this finger though. Can you move it to the other hand?” I didn’t mind the silver band. The fact that it would block a gold one, that bugged me.

  “You are the one who put it on that finger. I will research ways to change it, but for now you will sport both gold and silver. And don’t even think of cutting off your finger. The ring would appear somewhere else.

  “Another finger?” I knew a surgeon who could do some fine work with reattaching things.

  “Possibly. There are less comfortable places to have a ring attach itself.”

  “The thorn tree.” The memory of that image came back, souring the taste of crepe.

  “I know. I visited it as soon as Ari told me. I tell you in confidence that I have enlisted the aid of a
nother fairy.” Grimm spoke softly, afraid the walls might hear.

  Fairies never asked each other for help. Ever. They couldn’t even come near each other. “Why?”

  “My daughter’s actions are a blind spot for me. Whether it is the love I held for her, or that her power is a fragment of my own, I confess that I cannot determine her whereabouts.” Grimm wouldn’t look at me.

  “So she’s alive?”

  “The auguries say she is not dead. You would have it be a yes or no, but with that much power, the continuum between alive and dead becomes gray and wide. If she makes a single move on earth, I will know.”

  I finished my crepe, put my dishes in the sink, and stopped. See, the murmurs, the protests, all of that—gone. I crept to the kitchen door and peeked into the living room. Ari and Wyatt lay locked in an embrace, kissing. Communicate, my ass. Ari was testing the poor boy for tonsillitis, or maybe being tested. Hard to say.

  “Marissa,” hissed Grimm, “leave them be.”

  You know what? The end of the world doesn’t come every day. Far as I was concerned, they could bump uglies and I’d give Ari a high five for carping the diem.

  I’d read most of the business news by the time Ari appeared in the kitchen, her blouse off by one button, her hair wildly messed up.

  “I hear you decided to major in communications. Where’s your prince?”

  Ari poured herself a cup of orange juice. “He’s brushing his teeth and washing his hands. Wyatt has,” Ari paused, looking for the right word, “issues with contact.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, looked like it.”

  “No, really.” Ari clenched her fists in frustration. “If we hold hands, he has to go wash afterward. He carries unopened toothbrushes with him, and he buys mouthwash in bulk.”

  “So you two didn’t actually do anything.”

  Ari stomped her foot. “That’s enough, Marissa. Wyatt takes physical relationships very seriously. We’re moving slow. Giving him time to get used to things.” She didn’t need to say what those things were.

  Grimm reappeared in Ari’s toaster. “I’ve made the arrangements. The baseball stadium is yours.”

  “Call Mikey, have him meet us there. I want mercenary teams in the parking lots in case my plan goes off the rails. Malodin wants something awful unleashed, I’ll give him something awful.”

  “My dear, I must warn you that violating your contract is not something I can advise. My expertise in these areas is extreme, and thus both the demon and your lawyer agree that I cannot help you subvert it.” Grimm almost looked sorry. Almost.

  “I can handle this. You make the reservations, handle the small details, I’ll take care of plagues and such.” I grabbed my purse and my best friend’s hand and headed out to finish what I’d started. Namely, the destruction of the world.

  * * *

  FILLED WITH PEOPLE, the baseball stadium is an amazing place. The crowd roars like a single entity every time its team does something largely mediocre. Empty, like the darkest alley of an abandoned ghost town. From outside, the sounds of cars on the freeway and planes on approach to the airport echoed as I stood on home plate.

  “Didn’t know running the bases was on your bucket list.” Ari stood behind me, leaning against the backstop.

  “Ms. Locks!” From the dugout behind me came Beth, with Mikey hulking behind her like something from a monster movie. It wasn’t the eight-foot wolf man with slobber on his jaws and claws the length of my palm. It was the flock of tiny white poodles surrounding her, each with a pink, blue, or green collar around its neck. And bows.

  “Beth, what have you done?” Ari made a run for first base, with a poodle hot on her heels. I’m betting if the princess ever made it to the majors, she could be a hit, given how fast she ran.

  “Awww, they’re not that bad. Once they stop eating people, the hellfire goes right out of them.” Beth knelt on the ground, letting the poodles yip and leap on her until she disappeared into a pile of white fur.

  I walked over and reached down into the pile, pulling her up. “Beth, I’m about to unleash a plague of these things. And you’re playing with them. How are you going to feel about marching a thousand of them off into the bay?”

  “These little ones are my babies. Not like the nasty, bloody ones. I’ve given them baths, and Mikey bought them bows and let them nibble on him.” Beth took out her kazoo and hummed. The flock fell into a formation behind her. “I thought I had a few more weeks until the poodles came.”

  “Change of plans. We’re going to unleash them, corral them, and send them all for a swim in the next hour.” I fiddled in my purse, finding the bag of plague sand. If Beth couldn’t control the poodles, we’d die. If we couldn’t contain them, they’d spread out like a, well, plague, devouring everyone in their path, and getting stronger as they did.

  “Teams are ready,” said the terse voice on my radio. So the mercenary control line waited, twenty yards out.

  “Anything white and fluffy that isn’t us, you shoot, unless I say otherwise.” I waved to Mikey, and he walked over, each step almost a waddle.

  His face was nearly completely transformed, with a long muzzle and ears that twitched and perked as he listened. Close up, he towered almost three feet taller than me.

  “Keep Beth safe. She’s the key to everything here.” I reached up and brushed the fur on his face. “Wow. That’s really soft.”

  “Conditioner.” The word sounded gargled, spoken through wolf teeth and wolf tongue. He turned and loped back to Beth, running on hands and feet, almost like an ape.

  “Ari?” I looked over to first base.

  She’d retrieved a bat from the dugout. “Ready, M.”

  “Blessing, curse? I need you two.” A slight brush of wind, and the shriek Ari let out told me my harakathin were with me. While I couldn’t control what they did, the last experience with the fae guards told me it wouldn’t be pretty.

  Walking to the pitcher’s mound, I knelt and dug in the dirt. My previous plagues I scattered to the wind, so that they’d affect the whole city. I took a handful of plague sand and patted it into the hole I’d made, envisioning what must happen.

  Then I ran like hell toward Ari, glancing back at the pitcher’s mound as I ran. Ari waited for me, her face scrunched in concentration as she prepared some spell.

  Nothing moved. Overhead, a jet rumbled, reminding me that Liam’s flight would touch down any moment. If the poodle outbreak spread, he’d meet something nastier than a flower-selling freak at the baggage carousel.

  One second. Two more. Ten.

  The earth erupted.

  Thirty-Six

  AT FIRST, IT looked like a mole, nosing its way up from the ground. Then the entire mound fell in, as something clawed up through the earth. It shook itself, giving me a clear look at what I’d unleashed, and I gasped.

  Burying the plague sand: really bad idea. The thing that scratched itself on centerfield was the size of a delivery truck. That’s plenty scary. The worst part, however, was the slurry of heads, tails, and limbs that jutted from it. Each grain of sand had grown into a poodle, and some of them grew at the same time, in the same place.

  Tiny heads with glowing eyes snarled at me from the rib cage, like warts on a dog. Tails wagged under its chin where poodle rear ends jutted from the skin, and on its ears, several almost complete poodles hung, squirming, yipping, eager to devour us.

  The poodle-puddle stood, shaking its head and growling like construction machinery. I’d killed worse. True, I’d had the army actually running the antitank weaponry at the time, but it could die, and I’d kill it. A flash of white under it stopped my plotting.

  First one, then another, then a flood of tiny poodles streamed out of the pit, forming a swirling pool of white around the monster’s feet. Their bloodstained muzzles let out the yips of the damned, and their eyes blazed with fresh hellfire. Each dainty paw ended in claws that no doubt had shredded flesh a thousand times before.

  “Beth, take the small ones,�
�� I shouted, and the sound of my voice suddenly made me stand out. A few thousand tiny eyes turned toward me, and two huge ones that I’d rather have looking anywhere else. The large poodle took a step toward me, growling in a way that made my insides into jelly.

  Then a wave of sound came from the stadium speakers. A hum that passed through me, pulling at me, almost commanding me to turn and look at Beth. She stood at home plate, with Mikey over her like some grotesque umpire, a microphone in hand.

  Again, she hummed into the mic, and a short whine echoed through the pack of poodles. The white ones rushed forward like a flood, surrounding Beth like a lake, matching with rapt, glowing eyes. The monster, on the other hand, cocked his head to one side, and let out a growl that let me know my plan had a few shortcomings.

  Beth tried again, and this time, I took a few steps involuntarily. My feet moved without my control, each step getting easier and easier as I walked her way. “Stop. You’re controlling us too.”

  Beth took out her kazoo and looked at me, fear in her eyes. “I can’t control that thing without it.”

  “Small ones. Get rid of them, we’ll handle the big dog,” Ari practically screamed, then unleashed a rope of lightning at the monster dog, as she moved toward outfield.

  Without the microphone, the hum of Beth’s kazoo no longer ripped control of my feet from me. Small problem solved. The big problem, several thousand pounds of it, shrieked like a tiny puppy, then shook off Ari’s lightning, and headed for her, bounding across the green grass.

  I shot it twice as it ran, my nine millimeter barking in my hand like a good doggy as it spat bullets. What I needed was a ninety millimeter, but those didn’t come in pistol sizes. It stopped short, turning to look at me.

  “Here, boy!” I waved my arms. I never saw what hit me.

  From where I stood, I’d swear the world swung up at me, tackling me at full speed. Then as fast as the weight hit me, it flew off. I looked up and found something ugly enough to reconsider my aversion to cats. The thing that hit me was a poodle. Sort of.