Cool relief washes through me. The balcony sounds like a much better deal than the middle of the floor. “Thank you, Anubis.”
“Just get your boy.” Anubis raises his arms, and vines curl up from the ground, wrapping their slithering bodies around Lincoln and me. With a lurching haul, they pull us deep into the earth. Once again, there’s the sensation of falling through empty space. Only this time, I’m able to find Lincoln’s hand in the darkness. I smile.
We made it. We’re off to the throne room.
Chapter Twenty
With slow, gentle movements, the vines shift Lincoln and I out of the darkness, setting us onto a high stone balcony.
Together, Lincoln and I belly-crawl over to the balcony’s edge, which is a series of tall spindles topped by a wide wooden railing. My shoulder presses against Lincoln’s as we peer through the line of rods. The sight tightens my throat with excitement and terror.
It’s Armageddon’s throne room. We’re really here.
The chamber is long, rectangular and made of shiny black rock. Across the room, a stone staircase rises up to end in a small, square platform and a pair of stout black thrones. On those chairs sit Armageddon and his dead mother, Onyx.
His dead mother? Really? This guy is un-freaking-believable.
Armageddon looks creepy as usual: seven feet tall with gangly limbs and a long face. Simply looking at him makes my skin crawl with disgust.
But as awful as Armageddon appears, he’s got nothing on the figure in the throne next to his. There sits the corpse of his mother, Onyx. She’s wrapped up like a mummy and strapped into the chair at a cock-eyed angle. Her head hangs low on her chest.
I shake my head in disbelief. So, not only did Armageddon kill his own mother, but he’s also strapped her into the throne next to his, hip to hip through all eternity. That’s one messed-up relationship.
Straining in the dim light, I look for Maxon’s prison box. Chests of goodies surround the stone thrones, along with a small metal cube. That’s it.
Maxon’s right there.
I grit my teeth, fighting the desire to rush across the room, speed up the stairs, and free Maxon. The only thing holding me back is the fact that the King of Hell now sits on his throne.
My breath catches. I so want to kill that bastard. Now.
A quiet moan echoes through the massive chamber, grabbing my attention. Armageddon hears it as well, and his gaze snaps to the small metal container.
“Look who’s waking up,” says Armageddon. He stretches out his long arm, pounding on the top of the metal box with his three-knuckled fist. “The monopsyche can’t protect you much longer, you know.” He leans closer to the box. “Yes, I know you’re in his head now, Hildy. Once I’m done with Maxon, I’ll send for you later.”
Emotions race through me. It all begins with a wave of cool relief. Sure I have the Looking Glass, but now I can see for myself that Maxon is alive. We aren’t too late. The tight, anxious pain I’ve been carrying in my chest loosens just a little bit. Even better, he’s not wide awake yet. Armageddon hasn’t had much of a chance to do damage.
After that, comes fear. It’s obvious that the King of Hell has been sitting beside Maxon, waiting for the second that he’s conscious to start torturing my boy. My pulse kicks up a notch, thudding with such force, I can feel it in my neck.
Finally, I’m hit with white-hot rage. Anger churns through my bloodstream, my muscles itching with the desire to run, fight, kill. Armageddon better not lay one finger on my kid.
Another groan fills the air. Maxon’s waking up and fast.
I turn to Lincoln, careful to keep my voice low. “Where’s the court?” Royalty never hangs out alone in a throne room. I should know.
Lincoln frowns. “Anubis originally said Armageddon was waiting in the tower at the Walls of Hell, looking out for Xavier’s army.”
“And they’re still hanging at the walls, but without Armageddon? That doesn’t make sense. Something’s fishy about this whole set-up. At least, there should be some guards in here, but I don’t see anyone.”
“They’d be stationed by the doors below us. We can’t see them because we’re on the balcony.”
“Right.” I force my breathing to slow. Dad always says that recon is the most important part of any mission. Now, we need to sit still, watch and wait. Someone will come through those doors. When they do, we’ll know who we’re up against and can make a plan.
A long creak sounds below us. Looking down, I see the source of the noise. A pair of huge lacquered wooden doors swing open beneath me, the great iron handles wielded by a pair of frost golems. At two stories tall, the icy creatures look like the Mr. Clean guy from TV commercials back in Purgatory. They move with slow, lumbering steps, the tops of their bald heads reaching just below the balcony’s floor. Across the darkened chamber, Armageddon eyes the ice-blue monsters from his black stone throne. The look on his face turns hungry and mean.