The Brutal Time Special Edition Read online

“You don’t need any checklist.” I jam the mini-quilt onto her hands. “This is easy peasy.”

  In my experience, the most important part of assistant management is this: walking away before they can corner you and ask a million questions. All of which is why I speed-march toward the door.

  With every step, a heavy sense of dread seeps into my bones. A magnetic pull rises from my soul; its force draws me back to Allimari. A calm female voice whispers in my mind.

  Return to Allimari. Talk to her.

  My igni chatter in my mind like frantic children. This new speaker is older, calmer, and like nothing I’ve heard before. Is some fresh entity rolling around my soul? What the ever loving Hell?

  In the end, I do what any sane person would in this situation. Ignore the fuck out of the weird voice in my head, wave everyone goodbye, and head for Lucifer’s lab.

  Blowing things up. That’s a much better way to spend my morning. And I already have an idea how to derail this wrath coven’s demonpocalypse train.

  Maybe.

  Possibly.

  Okay, I really have no idea.

  But I’ll still go blow shit up.

  2

  Myla

  After leaving the wrath coven, I use a transport charm to reach Lucifer’s lab on Earth. The good news is that I land almost-not-quite on the exact coordinates in the map-quilt. The bad news is that it’s cold as Hell out here.

  Even so, I’m grinning my face off. Somewhere inside this mountain hides a place I can’t wait to explore. And by explore, I mean, send it sky high.

  Eat death, Lucifer’s lab!

  In other news, that eerily calm voice has stopped chattering in my head. Total sanity bonus.

  I shuffle-walk across a thin rock ledge. The mountain’s peak soars above, its pinnacle wrapped in heavy clouds. Below me, layers of freezing mist stretch really really reeeeeeeally far down.

  Don’t look don’t look don’t look.

  Oops, I looked.

  Jolts of fear twist up my spine as I consider the pointy rocks lurking in that lower haze. With my luck, I’ll tumble off this ledge and land smack-dab on a super-pokey boulder.

  I lift my chin. No, I won’t. The lab entrance isn’t far.

  Gusts of wind scream in my ears. Little ice daggers—I refuse to call them snowflakes—sting my eyes. Sadly, my dragonscale fighting suit is doing zero to keep me warm. I’d ask to borrow a hat, but these are the Himal-something mountains on Earth. No one’s around for miles.

  My tail jabs my shoulder as if to say, can we leave yet?

  And yeah, I could magic my ass out of here. I don’t want to, though.

  Here’s the deal. Lucifer’s lab is close. Sadly, there’s a magical null zone around it. In other words, my transport home charm won’t work unless I shimmy my chilly butt in the opposite direction. Not a fan of that concept. I’m here and I’m finding the lab, end of story.

  With careful movements, I angle my face toward the right. Bad idea. A fresh tsunami of ice-daggers slams into me. A new voice echoes through the arctic wind.

  “Greetings, daughter of General Xavier.”

  Blinking hard, I spot an angel hovering nearby. This one’s a youngish guy with a baby face and ears that stick out from the side of his head. Random angelic visits aren’t as weird as they once were. It all goes with being the Great Scala.

  “You got a scarf with you or anything?” I ask.

  “I do not feel cold, oh daughter of General Xavier.”

  I open my mouth, ready to point out that I wasn’t worried about him feeling chilly, then I decide to drop it. Angels live in another headspace—one where physical needs don’t exist. Explaining things like cold to them? Total time-suck.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “You requested that I keep you appraised of Drusus.”

  Drusus is my fading angel buddy. He’s an older guy with an artistic flair and a sweet giggle. I’m trying to understand why he’s slowly vanishing. After all, if I can’t save one fading angel, how will I help the millions more out there?

  “Refresh my memory,” I say. “What did I ask you again?”

  “This was on your last visit to Heaven,” prompts the angel. “You said, someone please let me know if his case gets worse. And I said, yes. Whereupon you said, thanks, Buddy.”

  “Oh, I remember now. Your name is really Buddy.”

  “Out of all the angels, I couldn’t believe you knew me so personally.”

  Now I don’t want to burst Buddy’s bubble, but I did not know his name. Still, there’s no way I’m sharing how I call a lot of random angels buddy. Plus, it’s cold as fuck out here. No time for long chats.

  “What’s up with Drusus?” I ask.

  “I can no longer see him.”

  I cling to the rock wall more tightly. “What?”

  “Drusus is close to death.”

  My breath catches. “How much longer does he have?”

  “A few weeks, nothing more.” Buddy pumps his wings and takes off to the skies.

  Guess that conversation is over.

  A weight of worry settles into my soul. Once I’m done at Lucifer’s lab, I’ll figure out how to visit Drusus again. Heaven doesn’t make it easy to visit fading angels, but that’s never stopped me before.

  Simply put, there must be some way to save Drusus.

  3

  Lincoln

  A nearby sign reads: Welcome To The Incaenda Docks, Antrum.

  It might as well read: Welcome to six hours of your life that you’ll never have back.

  I stand inside a massive underground cavern. Before me there stretches a long stone pier flanked by hundreds of Viking-style long ships … as well as a river made from molten lava. Today marks a sacred ceremony called The Annual Blessing Of Thrax Vessels.

  Shoot me now.

  This particular ritual requires I wear my full kit as king, including leather pants, high boots, a velvet tunic and my silver crown. So far, I’ve blessed fifty-one boats. Two hundred and thirteen remain. Ah, the glamorous life of a royal.

  I step to the next vessel in line. The Demon Smasher. Captain Wilheard leads this ship and her crew of three. Wilheard is a young thrax with long black hair and a wiry frame. Like everyone today, he’s in his formal best with a long coat and plumed hat.

  “Apologies, your Majesty,” stammers Wilheard. “The vessel is rather a mess.” Captains always explain how their ships are filthy. It’s an unofficial part of the ceremony.

  I scan the longboat as if cataloging every inch. I’m sure this crew spent weeks getting The Demon Smasher into shape. “She appears perfect.”

  Wilheard beams. “Thank you.”

  My assistant for the day is Erik, who drags along a small cart that’s stacked high with Angelflower wine. Erik has taken a break from his Alchemist duties in the hopes of scoring some free imbibables. And Erik’s not alone, either. All the captains eye the liquid cargo greedily. Angelflower wine costs a mint.

  Erik hands me a fresh bottle, which I raise high while speaking the sacred words. “I, Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, King of the Thrax, Consort to the Great Scala, do hereby wish this boat another year of success.” I make a point to look each crew member in the eye in turn. “May this vessel, christened The Demon Smasher, navigate another twelve months in profit and safety.”

  In the past, my parents would smash the bottle against the hull. Here’s one place I’ve made changes. Instead of ruining an expensive treat, I hand Wilheard the wine instead.

  Sure enough, the captain grins. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  A new figure races toward me. It’s Hollywell, one of my messengers. “Your Majesty,” she says with a bow. “Terrible news from Purgatory.”

  My stance stiffens. There are five after-realms, namely Heaven, Hell, the Dark Lands, Purgatory, and Antrum. Though I now stand in the thrax homeland of Antrum, my wife Myla and young son Maxon currently wait in an entirely different place. Purgatory. Pairing t
he words terrible news with that realm’s name is nothing less than alarming.

  “Go on,” I command.

  “We’ve had word,” states Hollywell. “The Great Scala and Queen of the Thrax, Myla Lewis, is attempting to free Colossus.”

  There are two items of note in that statement.

  First, my people often read out Myla’s entire list of titles, although I’m completely aware of them.

  Second, there’s no way Myla’s trying to un-imprison the King of the Archdemons.

  “And who told you this?” I ask.

  “The ladies at the Sunset Retirement Community,” Hollywell replies. “Queen Myla will work with a mage called the Crimson Scourge in order to set Colossus free!”

  The docks fall silent. All eyes become glued on me and Hollywell. By my calculations, it will take about five-point-two seconds for this news to get across Antrum. Less to reach Mother.

  “Not to worry, Hollywell.” I gesture toward her hand. “What’s that’s you’re holding?”

  “A map to Lucifer’s lab,” Hollywell replies. “This place holds the very magic needed to free Colossus.”

  I stretch out my arm, palm upturned. “So?”

  “Oh, right,” says Honeywell. “I’m supposed to give it to you.”

  Which she does. At last. “Thank you.”

  Turning over the small quilt, I find a rather detailed map of an Earth mountain sewn into its surface. The runes at the top read, Lucifer’s laboratory. More writing at the bottom provides the exact coordinates. My spies had turned up some intel on this, but I haven’t yet seen their final report with the precise location. Evidently, Myla beat them to it. No doubt, my wife expects me to meet her there.

  Can’t wait.

  I raise my arms, which is kingly body language for, something important to say here.

  “I, King Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, do hereby declare a Royal Exemption in this ritual. I shall appoint a deputy to complete it for me.”

  By the way, I love the Royal Exemption policy. It’s my get out of jail free card.

  I turn to Erik. “I trust you can finish the ceremony?”

  Erik pales. “I’m no monarch.”

  A chorus of gasps sound nearby as a new figure steps onto the docks. Mother. As always, Octavia looks petite and lethal in her black velvet gown. Every strand of her gray hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the base of her neck.

  “Greetings, my son.”

  I tip my head. “Mother.”

  Octavia scans the scene. “Clearly, you’ve all heard the news about Colossus.” Mother turns to Hollywell. “You were promoted too early, child. We do not go around announcing potentially frightening news with outsiders present.”

  Hollywell’s brows pull together. “But the queen’s assistant said to share everything as soon as possible. The risk here is great considering how Queen Myla is … you know …”

  “Queen Myla is what?” I ask, my voice low.

  “A demon,” replies Hollywell.

  Rage heats my blood. Myla takes her duties as thrax queen to heart, yet some of my people will never see beyond her demonic side. I point at the messenger insignia on Hollywell’s tunic.

  “You were awarded this duty because my queen, the demon, extended this office to lesser houses. Show some respect.” On reflex, my fingers rest on my baculum, a pair of silver rods that can be ignited into any form of weapon made from angelfire.

  Mother steps between us. Clearly, she’s trying to diffuse the situation. Smart move.

  “You may take the rest of the day off, child.” Mother pats Hollywell on the shoulder. “Report tomorrow to my reception room for sensitivity lessons. You need to learn the difference between quasis and demons.”

  “Sensitivity lessons? Must I?” asks Hollywell.

  I stifle a gasp. Did this messenger just question the Queen Emeritus? Hollywell must have a death wish.

  “Oh, yes,” says Mother slowly. “You most assuredly must.”

  At this point, my anger toward Hollywell melts away. Mother’s lessons are notorious in their thoroughness and ability to make even the toughest thrax cry. And after questioning if she must attend? Hollywell will need a pile of handkerchiefs.

  I gesture toward the exit-side of the docks. “Best if you leave now, Hollywell.” Before you do something else.

  Nodding, Hollywell takes off at a slow pace. Meanwhile, Mother turns to address the nearby thrax. Octavia never speaks in more than a menacing whisper, yet I’ve no doubt everyone hears each syllable. “I have closed down transfers out of Antrum for the duration.”

  “What duration?” asks Erik.

  It’s an effort not to roll my eyes. How did this become Talk Back to Octavia Day? I round on him. “Whatever duration the Queen Emeritus determines.”

  “Quite right,” says Mother. “I can’t have you running off to other realms and spreading more needless worries about Myla and Colossus. No, you’ll all stay here and follow along in silence as I finish the rest of this ceremony.” She snaps her fingers and points to the wagon of wine. “Erik, please set one bottle before each vessel while I speak with my son.”

  “Yes, your Queen Emeritus-ness,” says Erik.

  Mother pulls me aside. Over the years, we’ve become experts at chatting in low tones so no one can overhear us. “Your Queen Emeritus-ness?” she asks. “What’s gotten into Erik?”

  “You frighten him,” I state.

  “Oh, that.” Mother waves her hand dismissively. “He’ll recover. Now what’s this Colossus blabber about? Shouldn’t Polly know better than to frighten our messengers?”

  I frown. “Polly?”

  “Myla’s assistant.”

  “Oh, that was four assistants ago. Now it’s Allimari.”

  “The girl who’s part sloth demon?”

  How Mother knows Allimari’s demonic heritage, I can’t imagine. Over the years, I’ve learned it’s best not to ask.

  “That’s the one,” I reply. “We tell her things, but it takes a while to stick, if that makes sense.”

  Mother sighs. “Myla tries to make her people do new tasks, that’s the trouble. She should follow the old Scala’s example.”

  “Which involved sleeping and allowing others to order him about. Myla wants to do what’s right, not what’s easy.”

  Mother nods. “Of course.” She pats my cheek gently. “Go have fun at Lucifer’s laboratory. I’ll keep the realm under control while you’re gone.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  As I step away from a ritual that defines the word tedious, a sense of pure joy bubbles through my veins.

  Myla-la, here I come.

  4

  Myla

  Another gust of arctic wind slams into me. Little needles of cold wheedle their way through every hole and seam in my dragonscale fighting suit. Meanwhile, more icy bits glom onto my eyelashes and nose hair. That stings like a mutha. Yet another burst of frost slams into my face and then …

  Success!

  Up ahead, I spot an opening in the rock wall. It’s definitely a cave, complete with a flat-floored entrance and shelter from the wind. My tail curls its arrowhead-shaped end into a fist-shape and punches the air.

  Ha! I knew this wasn’t a crap idea.

  Shuffle-walking at double-speed, I quickly reach the entrance. It’s beyond awesome to have protection from the ice and snow. A long tunnel opens to my left. Howling winds whip past to my right. And before me, there stands a lone figure. My pulse speeds. Even that massive coat can’t hide the identity of my visitor.

  Lincoln is here.

  My guy wears a black parka and an unreadable look on his face. Is it weird to notice how cute he is with his chiseled features all framed by fake fur? Maybe it is, but it don’t care. Even with the mega-coat on, there’s no missing Lincoln’s broad shoulders, strong cheekbones, and loose brown hair.

  “Hey, L-l-l-l-lincoln.” Did I mention I’m cold? I am.

  My guy raises his hand, showing that he brought an extra p
arka for me. “Greetings.” He sashays to my side and wraps me in the most cozy jacket ever. Even my toes start to thaw, which means the garment has been spelled to keep me warm.

  Enchanted parka. I should have thought of that.

  “How’d you get here first?” Not that I’m a competitive little shit. Actually, I’m more of a competitive big shit.

  “Oh, that?” A smile dances in my guy’s eyes. He knows I hate to lose at anything, even a pretend race to Lucifer’s lab that I just made up. “I took the opportunity to engage in some climbing fun.” He points upward. “I repelled down.”

  “Wow. I really hate you sometimes.” Only Lincoln would have hidden mountaineering skills.

  My guy straightens the collar of my parka. “Not entirely, surely.”

  “Never.” I grin.

  Lincoln gives me a sly look. “Allimari told everyone you went off to scheme with the Crimson Scourge.”

  I make a gaspy-face. “She did not. I specifically told her just to give you the map.” I wince. “Or something.” What did I say again?

  “The message got a tad garbled.” Lincoln’s trying hard not to laugh at this point. “Mayhem ensued.”

  I pop my hands over my mouth. “Oh, damn. You were supposed to run some big ceremony this morning. The hurrah for floaty things parade.”

  “The Annual Blessing Of Thrax Vessels.”

  “Right, that.”

  “Sadly, the news included more than the Crimson Scourge. My messenger also informed me that you planned to free Colossus.”

  “That is not what I told Allibaby.”

  “Allimari.”

  “Right again. So is Antrum freaking out or what?”

  “Mother has it under control. And the map-quilt made your true intensions clear. So I grabbed a few enchanted parkas and came along to join you.”

  “My frozen ass thanks you, big time.” I throw my arms around Lincoln’s neck and kiss him all over his face because honestly? He totally has that coming and more.

  Note to self: seduce husband later.