Panic spikes through my limbs. He can’t take Maxon. He won’t. I angle my body away from Armageddon, shielding Maxon by the prison wall. My son’s tail grips my waist so tightly, it’s hard to breathe. Armageddon’s hand winds about me.
There are few options open to me now. My baculum are gone. Hildy, Dad and Lincoln can’t get anywhere near me. I can only plead for mercy. “Take me, Armageddon. Leave my son alone.”
A hungry gleam flares in Armageddon’s amber eyes. “Wish I could, but no.”
The world seems to move in slow motion as Armageddon’s long, opaque arm reaches closer. I’m vaguely aware of the bursts of light from Hildy’s casting and the flares of angelfire as Lincoln and Dad hack away at the amber walls. Only one thing can really hold my attention.
Armageddon’s outstretched hand.
I try to grip Maxon more tightly, but a purple light flares along my skin. Fresh magic. This new spell turns my limbs rubbery and useless. All I can do is hunker down, curling my own larger body around Maxon’s tiny one. The cold amber wall presses onto my side, hard and unbreakable. My throat tightens with fear and grief.
This can’t be happening.
Armageddon’s long, three-knuckled fingers grip Maxon’s shoulders. I’m powerless to move as the King of Hell tears my son from my lifeless arms. My boy screams, his tiny features contorted, his face flush with terror. Armageddon clutches Maxon under his arm, like my boy is a sack of flour instead of a weeping child. Maxon reaches for me, his small voice howling ‘Mommy’ over and over.
I sob, I scream, I try to move. No sound comes from my lips. My arms don’t do much as twitch under my command.
Together, Armageddon and Maxon slowly seep into the earth, a pair of bodies trapped in amber quicksand. Soon, I can only see little hands reaching for me, and then, nothing at all. A howl of pain echoes through the air. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m the one who’s screaming.
“No, baby, no!”
I’m vaguely aware of Hildy gripping my shoulders. Some part of me knows I should be happy that the magic has set her free, but I can’t seem to care.
“Myla, listen to me.”
I can’t make eye contact with her. I can only stare at that terrible place where my son disappeared and repeat the word ‘no,’ over and over.
Hildy shakes my shoulders roughly. “Pay attention. This is about Maxon.”
My brain finally snaps out of its daze. “I’m listening.”
“Whatever happens, do not wake me up. Promise me that.”
“I don’t understand, Hildy.”
“I haven’t finished casting the spells to link Maxon and me, so I can’t pull him out of Hell. But I can make sure he remembers nothing of it, at least for a while. I can take over his mind for a day or two. So, don’t wake me up. Promise me.”
“Yes, I promise.”
Hildy’s eyes turn white and roll back into her head; she crumples into a heap on the floor. I kneel at her side, touch her throat, and check her pulse. She’s alive. I pull back her eyelids. The pupils are still all white.
Hildy’s connected to Maxon, protecting him.
I exhale in relief and look upward. Bad move. The amber ceiling is melting, dripping quickly down on me in long, gooey sheets. It takes only seconds for Hildy and I to be completely covered up to our necks. I struggle under the coating of rubbery stone, but I can’t move a muscle. The liquid amber covers my mouth and eyes, and then the world around me fades into nothingness.
For what feels like years, I dream of meandering in the darkness, looking for Maxon. His cries are always just out of earshot. Every time I close in, I hear Armageddon’s laugher as Maxon’s screams fade away and the process starts all over again. Soon, my eyes are sore from crying and my body trembles with the need for sleep. Through it all, I keep stumbling through the all-black dream world around me, repeating one phrase, over and over.
“I will save you, sweet baby.”
# # #
When I become aware again, I find myself lying on a cold floor, curled onto my side. My mind is a jumbled mess. I press my eyes closed tight, trying to recapture the thread of my last thought.
It was night and I was looking for something in the darkness. What was I searching for again?
Familiar fingers run through my hair, bringing me back to the present moment. “Myla, come back to me.”
My eyes flutter open. I’m lying on the floor of the Amber Cathedral. Looking up, I meet Lincoln’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed.
“There you are, Myla. Thank Heavens.” Lincoln leans forward and kisses me gently on the temple. “You were catatonic for almost an hour. Some kind of reaction to the dark magic. They wanted to touch you—cast spells and things—but I wouldn’t let them. I was so afraid they’d make things worse.”
“I must have passed out.” I hoist myself up into a sitting position. “That magic was—” It all comes back to me in a rush.
The Anointing. Armageddon. Maxon. Hell.