I watch Verus walk away and suppress the urge to tackle her from behind. After all these years, she comes out with her prophecy, and it’s only to manipulate Lincoln and I into starting a war.
Oh, hell. Maybe she’s right. Maybe they’re all right.
Last to come are the Oligarchy, pledging the support of ghoul-kind in order to transfer the armies to the Plains of Fire, the area surrounding the Walls of Hell. The audience restarts their cheer of “war, war, war!”
I watch the frantic faces. All the free peoples of the after-realms are represented here: angel, quasi, thrax, furor, and ghoul. They’ve all pledged their support to our cause. Stupidly, I thought there would be offers of magic or back entrances to Hell. Somewhere along the way, everyone decided we were going to war.
“This feels wrong, Lincoln.”
“I know,” he replies. “But what other choice do we have?”
My mind spins through possibilities and approaches, but I can’t think above the din of the shouting crowd.
Seems like we don’t have any options left.
War it is.
Chapter Thirteen
I pace the cold floor of a gray concrete room at the top of the tallest tower of the Spires. The room is windowless, but that will change once Walker returns with Dad. The Fealty Ceremony ended an hour ago, and my father asked to meet Lincoln and me here. He has something special to show us.
“Any ideas what your father’s up to?” asks Lincoln.
“None.” I stare at the concrete wall, watching the Group Think go by. It’s a lot of the practical side of having company in the Dark Lands.
GHT-1628: Picking up thrax from Pulpitum V.
KPO-12: Airspace access approved for Furor use in Sector Nineteen.
BQ-14: Janitorial detail to Sector Four.
A low-pitched hum sounds as a black door-sized hole appears in the center of the tower floor. A portal opens. Through that darkened shape steps my father and Walker. Dad’s in his silver armor, his long golden wings on display. A manic gleam lights his eyes as he wraps Lincoln and me in a warm hug.
“Could you believe the ceremony today?” says Dad. “The archangels and the Furor? There’s never been an army to match this one.”
Walker grips my shoulders, his all-black eyes staring deeply into mine. “How are you holding up?”
My breath hitches. That was the first time I’ve had a conversation with anyone today about Maxon. It’s all been war, war, war. This is why Walker’s the best honorary older ghoul brother ever.
“Life passed surreal about an hour ago. Now, I’m in what you call a dreamlike haze.”
Walker frowns. “Should we do this later?”
“Of course, not.” Dad eyes Walker suspiciously. “When did you become afraid of war? I trained you to fight first and question later.”
“I’m not afraid,” explains Walker. “I was merely asking if—”
Dad slaps his hand against Walker’s back. “Why don’t you give me some time alone with the kids, eh?”
Walker’s great black eyes focus on me. “Is that alright with you?”
“Sure, Walker. Take a break. Go eat some worm soufflé or something, you’ve earned it.”
Walker nods, opens a black portal and disappears.
Once he’s gone, Dad rubs his palms together greedily. “Now, as I was saying. There’s no time to waste. We need to kill Armageddon. Make him pay.”
A sinking feeling creeps into my bones. “I thought we were saving Maxon.”
“Of course, we are,” says Dad quickly. “But to do that, we have to kill Armageddon, right?” He eyes me carefully. “That’s what Faustina told you.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Good, so we’re agreed.” My father steps over to the wall. “Where’s the door in this place, anyway?” He pats another section of stone. “Ah, here it is.” The outline of a doorframe appears in the wall. He turns to us. “Ready to step out onto the balcony?”
My voice comes out low and dreamy. “Sure.”
Lincoln’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “What’s out there?”
“You’ll see,” announces Dad as he pulls the concrete door open. “This is why I brought you here. Your surprise. I hope you’ll be pleased.”
Dad walks through the opened door; Lincoln and I follow. We all step out onto a small cement balcony many stories above the earth. The air is brisk and thin, making me hug my elbows for warmth.
My father gestures across the landscape. “There they are.”
I scan the horizon. Everywhere I look, the land seems covered in a sheet of slowly shifting concrete. “I don’t see anything.”
Dad gestures me to the balcony’s edge. “Come here, right by the wall.”
I step up beside him, resting my elbows on the lip of the concrete barrier that marks the balcony’s edge. Leaning forward, I scan the landscape again. Grey shapes come into color and clarity.
“That concrete isn’t moving. Those are bodies.” Bit by bit, I can make out the different colors of thrax houses, the dark robes of the ghouls, and even the floating shapes of dragons as they dive through the air.