by Eric Nylund
Eliot swallowed, trying not to get sick again.
“Or,” Eliot said, “we let these guys take us to their Queen.”
“Into what might be a trap,” Fiona reminded them.
“I think they’re telling the truth about them fighting and dying just to help us,” Eliot said.
Fiona chewed on her lower lip. “Well, they don’t seem like they want to immediately kill us. That’s progress.”
“I don’t want to go back through those Blasted Lands,” Robert murmured.
“Or hoof it through the rest of Hell,” Mr. Welmann added.
Fiona sighed and shook her head. “I guess we go with the welcoming committee. . for now.”
Eliot returned to the knights. “Please,” he told them, “show us the way, sir.”
The head knight motioned to his men. They rose and formed a loose circle around them. Eliot didn’t particularly like being surrounded by armed warriors, but they seemed okay; none of them looked directly at them, and their weapons pointed away.
Still, instinct told Eliot not to trust anyone in Hell.
The Poppy Lands were worse than Eliot remembered from his previous trip on the Night Train. The earth was scorched in spots, frozen in others, and heaps of salt scattered everywhere so nothing could grow-some regions so blasted and broken that it didn’t look like either Queen Sealiah or the attacking shadows controlled it.
These lands felt abandoned and wrong.
They hurried over terrain that looked like the surface of the moon-and over a half-burned bridge that spanned a river choked with vegetation and oil slicks and bodies and chunks of ice.
On the horizon glowed the Twelve Towers of Queen Sealiah. They perched upon the edge of a cliff. Each tower was different: one was an ancient tree with only a crown of a few spare branches; one was ghostly white and taller than all others; one flickered with lines of phosphorescing fungus. Searchlights played through the air. Cannon and cauldrons smoldered atop the outer walls. Industrial cranes stood among the towers, casting their long steel arms back and forth.
As they neared, one crane lowered a platform.
With a wave of his gauntlet, the head knight indicated that they get on.
Eliot hesitated. Once they got on this thing and were inside those walls, it would be harder to turn around and leave if they wanted to.
Queen Sealiah was more than just the monarch of this domain of Hell. She was also part of his family. And Eliot had met only one of his father’s relations, Beelzebub. He’d tried to kill him and Fiona. Eliot didn’t think that’s what Sealiah had in mind, though.
He looked around, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the platform.
His sister, Robert, and Mr. Welmann got on, too, and it rose into the air.
He saw the land for miles around-desolate, burning, and shattered. Oddly, there was no fighting. If this was a war. . where was everyone?
The platform lifted up and over the outer wall, where there were hundreds of artillery pieces poised ready to fire, archers, and knights peering through telescopes. Clouds of insects and bats swarmed around them in formations.
Within the great courtyard were tens of thousands of armored knights and soldiers. They hurried to reinforce the walls, sharpen weapons, and load rifles.
Before Eliot and the others they parted like a retreating tide, all falling to one knee in supplication.
This was completely weird.
One day, Eliot was a social zero at school, practically invisible. And here? He was treated like royalty.
He tried to smooth out his scorched and ripped school jacket, but it didn’t work.
Their escorts led them to the tallest tower on the plateau. It was as large as a skyscraper and bone white, which Eliot saw was actually made from bones: dinosaur; elephant; whale; and countless grinning human skulls. Upon the top of the tower sat the three largest skulls, something Eliot had only seen in books, the teeth-filled fossilized remains of Tyrannosaurus rex.63
As they mounted the hundreds of steps, a lone figure appeared at the top to greet them. Jezebel.
Eliot halted in his tracks.
It felt like he’d been struck in the head.
Part of him had thought he’d never see her again. . thinking her dead, or captured. . or a million other things that could have happened to her that would have kept them apart. They seemed fated never to be together.
Seeing her now. Here. Finally. He didn’t know what to do but stare.
Her face was unblemished and luminescent, and her lips parted as she saw him. She was different from when he’d last seen her on the Night Train. Her features were too smooth and perfect. . almost otherworldly. It was as if her face had been recast and fired and ground to a mirror finish, like that of a porcelain doll.
While her face was enchanting, the way she was dressed was anything but inviting. She wore a platinum breastplate the same color as her hair, and it was enameled with roses and orchids, and covered in black metal thorns. A chain mail skirt the color of dried blood hung about her hips and covered high studded combat boots.
She took a step toward him.
Eliot couldn’t resist; he started toward her again. His heart beat so hard, he thought it would explode in his chest. All he wanted to do was take her by the hand, turn around, and get out of here.
With every step, his blood warmed, heated. . burned.
He felt intoxicated. Yes. He wanted to taste her again-even if her kisses were poisoned. He was addicted to how he felt when she was around.
Their escort knights halted on the steps ahead of Eliot. They bowed before Jezebel, and she, in turn, inclined her head to recognize them.
“You are dismissed, Captain,” Jezebel said, her tone icy.
The knights retreated down the steps.
Eliot jogged up to Jezebel. He would have thrown his arms about her or taken her hand at least, but with her in that thorned armor, he’d get impaled if he tried.
Jezebel hovered near him; her gauntleted hand reached out for him, and then pulled back.
Her gaze darted past Eliot to take in Fiona, Robert, and Mr. Welmann as they walked up. Her eyes narrowed a bit-and then softened again as she looked back to Eliot.
“You came,” she whispered to him, voice trembling. “After I tried so hard to push you away. Eliot, you will never know what that means to me.” In an even lower voice, she said, “But there is more danger here than you can imagine.”
Fiona was close enough to hear to this. “We’re not getting involved in any Infernal thing, if that’s what you mean. We just came to get you out of here.”
Jezebel snorted and dismissed Fiona with a single glance.
“I’d show a little gratitude,” Robert muttered, moving alongside Fiona. “We lost Amanda getting here.”
That got her attention.
Jezebel blinked. “The little girl? Lost? You mean-?”
“She died,” Fiona told her flatly. “Burned.”
“A human sacrificed in Hell. . I am sorry for her.” Jezebel looked away and took a deep breath, appearing for a split second like normal, flawed Julie Marks-then her features hardened. “But there is nothing to be done. We must see to our own lives now.”
“You want to save lives?” Fiona stepped forward, clenching her fists. “Then get back to the train station and help us find a way back to school.”
Eliot held up a hand to calm her.
“We came to get you,” Eliot told Jezebel. “We need you back at school. . gym class and finals.” He faltered. “No. . it’s not that. . well, only a small part. I need you, too.”
Jezebel took a tiny step closer so they were almost touching.
He felt her heat and their mutual magnetic attraction. He wanted to take her in his arms-even if it cut him to ribbons.
“My hero,” Jezebel whispered, a slight edge of sarcasm to her honeyed voice. “If only things were so simple.”
Fiona set a hand on Eliot’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Okay, you tried. She sai
d no. We’re out of here. We had a deal, remember?”
Eliot shrugged her off. He couldn’t leave. How could he after Amanda had died so he could get here? And how could he now that he stood before Jezebel?
But he had made a deal with his sister, and he knew how crazy it’d be to stay.
He couldn’t have it both ways. He had to decide.
Eliot had had to make this choice before. Back in Del Sombra, he had impulsively decided to go with the then Julie Marks-run away to Hollywood (which had been part of an Infernal trap).
And he’d made the wrong choice then, saved only because Julie hadn’t followed through with the plan.
As he looked at Jezebel, Eliot knew he had to make the right choice now, because no one was going to save him this time.
Jezebel stepped back three paces, before he could tell her anything, though. “I cannot help you. . and none of you can leave.”
A hundred knights in the courtyard moved to encircle the steps. A dozen more knights appeared behind Jezebel, their rifle-lances at the ready.
Robert reached for his gun.
Mr. Welmann set a restraining hand on Robert’s arm and stepped between them. “I believe, young lady, you were going to take us to your Queen?” He glanced back at Fiona, giving her a warning shake of his head. “Might as well hear what she had to say, after coming all this way, right?”
“That’s just wonderful,” Fiona said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t do this,” Eliot told Jezebel.
With a gesture, she indicated that they come with her. The guards aimed their lances at them.
Eliot marched forward and Jezebel walked by his side.
“There is no choice,” she whispered to him, “for any of us. Be careful. Your next words may kill us all.”
62. A universal symbol of beauty and romance, the rose has also been associated with power and secret societies formed to wield that power. Ancient Romans placed a rose on the door where secret societies would meet (the phrase sub rosa, or “under the rose,” means to keep a secret). Examples of such societies are the Order of the Celestial Rose (League of Immortals), the Knights of the Thorned Rose (Infernals), and the Holy Rose Hunters (vampire killers among the Mortal Magical Families ca. sixteenth century). Mythohistorians claim to trace these groups to prehistoric pagan cults, worshippers of fertility and warrior spirits, which may suggest a common root origin. Secret Societies in a Secret World. Lucy Westin, Paxington Institute Press LLC, San Francisco.
63. The Tower Grave is said to be built from the bones of those who offended the Queen of the Poppies. Even for an Infernal, this seems unlikely, due to the sheer volume of materials required and the prehistoric, fossilized nature of the larger specimens. Rough calculations indicate construction began prior to the War in Heaven, and may have been started by entities older than the fallen angels. It must also be noted that the size of Sealiah’s Twelve Towers varies by account, seeming to swell and strengthen in times of conflict and constricting to modest dimensions in peaceful times (see also the mutable nature of the Infernal Realms, section 6). Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 13, Infernal Forces. Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.
73 DUX BELLORUM
Fiona wondered if her brother had another supernatural talent beside his music, one where no matter how hard she tried, he got them both deeper into trouble.
And now it wasn’t just him and her anymore. It was Robert and Mr. Welmann. And it had been Amanda, too.
Fiona was going to have a long talk with Eliot about responsibility when they got out of here.
If they got out of here.
They walked down a gigantic hallway you could’ve taxied a jumbo jet through-the arching walls made from skulls, all of them staring. Luminescent mushrooms sprouted from grinning mouths and eye sockets. It was super creepy.
Eliot strolled alongside Jezebel as if they were going to get some coffee at Café Eridanus.
His crush and the resulting lack of intelligence reminded her of the way she’d felt last summer for Robert.
Fiona cast a sideways glance at Robert. He pulled on his Paxington jacket, tucked in his shirttails, and smoothed his wild hair. He caught her gaze and smiled like everything was going to be all right.
She quickly looked away.
There was no sense mooning over that lost cause now.
She wished Mitch were here. What wouldn’t she give to hold his hand-and jump back home or some exotic location (anywhere not in the middle of a war zone).
She turned back to Eliot. He looked like a dope walking next to his girlfriend. Fiona felt a flash of jealousy, but decided to let him be. Wherever Jezebel was taking them, it wasn’t going to be the happy ending Eliot was hoping for.
The hallway opened into a room as large as a stadium filled with hundreds of guards (all with those deadly looking rifle lances). In the center on a raised dais was a throne of bones, held together with vines and sprouting blossoms.
Queen Sealiah sat there. She wore armor with scales beaten into the shapes of phalaenopsis orchid petals. On her hips were curved daggers, and a sheathed sword with a cracked hilt and ragged leather handle that looked oddly familiar.
But all this was secondary to Sealiah herself. Her hair was copper red and her skin the color of molten bronze. Her eyes flashed as if they were faceted emerald as her gaze swept over them.
And beautiful? She was way beyond beauty.
Fiona couldn’t compare her to any other person or even goddess she’d seen. Not even Dallas came close.
This was an Infernal queen in her lair. And like some big fat spider, Fiona sensed countless threads of power radiating to her from the land around them.
Despite the contempt she felt for this side of her family, Fiona knew she had to show respect, and keep her fear and ever-shortening temper in check, or this could be a very brief audience.
“Greetings to you, son and daughter of the Prince of Darkness,” Sealiah said. Her voice was liquid velvet. “Destroy everything you touch.”
Fiona didn’t understand the reference, but nonetheless she bowed her head. Eliot had the good sense to do the same.
But Fiona didn’t bow too low. She sensed that showing too much respect would be just as bad as not showing any (and she wasn’t about to take her eyes off the Infernal even for a second).
Jezebel fell to her knees and lay prostrated before her Queen. Jezebel, of all creatures-always proud and strong and never bending an inch-acting like a slave girl?
Eliot fidgeted and looked torn between wanting to pull her up and knowing this would be a breach of protocol.
It was so degrading.
Sealiah nodded at them, which Fiona guessed was a huge concession of respect, given the circumstances. The Queen rose and strode down to their level. She was a lot shorter up close-not even as tall as Fiona.
There was a smell from her, too: the perfume of every flower. . with something toxic mixed in. Fiona tried not to gag.
Sealiah halted, scrutinizing them.
Fiona tried to meet the Queen’s gaze, but she had to look away. The depth of the Infernal’s stare was like her mother’s-but worse because there didn’t seem to be any soul reflected behind her eyes.
Could she be related by blood to something this evil? Miss Westin had lectured on the Infernals and told them the relationships between the fallen angels were not well understood by mortals. So Sealiah could be Louis’s cousin, aunt, or even his daughter. She and Sealiah could be sisters for all Fiona knew. Ick.
She didn’t imagine, however, that they’d have sleepovers or talk about boys anytime soon.
Eyes downcast, Fiona once more noticed the Queen’s sword. She had seen it before somewhere. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it-but she squelched that wild impulse, knowing it would be suicidal.
Sealiah moved to stand before Eliot, and her gaze lingered long, a look Fiona had seen before on hungry dogs.
“So wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh, Eliot.”
He nodded, face flushing.
The Queen passed Mr. Welmann like he wasn’t there.
She stopped before Robert and stroked his cheek with a long fingernail. He inhaled deeply, shocked at her touch. “And Mr. Farmington,” Sealiah murmured. “An honor to have a true hero in our midst.”
Hero? Robert? Fiona had no idea what Sealiah was thinking, but she definitely didn’t like her lascivious smile as she looked Robert over-or her touching him.
Fiona cleared her throat.
Sealiah cocked an eyebrow at her. “Speak.”
Fiona managed to sound as respectful as if she were addressing the League Council: “I beg pardon, Your Majesty, but we’re not looking for trouble. We just came to get Jezebel and get her back to school.”
“Oh?” Sealiah strode back to her throne, sinking upon it with a great flourish. “You’re not looking for trouble? Then why do you look ready to do battle?”
Sealiah beckoned to Jezebel before Fiona replied, however, and said, “Rise, my protégée, and speak. What do you say to this request?”
Jezebel got to her feet. Even after degrading herself, she still looked regal and proud, without a speck of dust on her.
How did she do that? When Fiona couldn’t keep one lousy school uniform clean to save her life.
“Nothing would please me more, my Queen,” Jezebel said.
Eliot straightened and practically floated next to her at this.
“But,” she said, “I cannot. My place is fighting by your side.”
Eliot deflated.
“And even if you sent me,” Jezebel continued, glancing at Eliot, “I could not live. The Poppy Lands are torn asunder. My power ebbs. If I were to leave, I would perish before I could cross the train tracks.”
Every hint of an expression drained from Eliot’s features and he stared straight ahead, thinking.
Fiona psst’d at him and he looked back at her.
She shot him a glance that said: Okay-we tried again-let’s go.
The Queen’s previous amusement cooled and her features hardened. “We fight for our lives against an ancient enemy. If we lose, Jezebel will, if lucky, die. If not, she will be captured by Mephistopheles and tortured for all eternity.”
