I frown. “Frost golems. Those can be tricky to kill.”
“We need a way to take them out fast.” Lincoln shoots me a knowing look. His strength is long-term battle strategy. Mine is off-the-cuff attack plans. In other words, killing these frost golems falls right in my wheelhouse. Or it would if we had any kind of weapons to kill them with.
“I gave my baculum to Nefer, so we only have one set between us. A single baculum can’t be ignited as much. We could each have a dagger or maybe a short-sword.”
“It’ll take us hours to kill them that way.”
I rub my temples with my fingertips. “There has to be something I’m missing.”
Please, let there be something I’m missing.
Two small figures walk through the now-opened doors. Without making a sound, they march down the long red walkway. Even in the dim light, it’s obvious that their bodies are semi-transparent. These two are ghosts, no doubt about it.
Once the spirits near the base of the staircase to Armageddon’s throne, the pair of frost golems lumber back underneath the balcony. As they pass below, I can see their liquid brains churning inside their great ice-blue skulls. A deep scraping sound fills the air, followed by a deafening slam.
The frost golems have closed the doors once again.
I grip my single baculum rod in my hand. There must be a way to take those frosties down. If I give myself a minute, something will come to me. No way did we get this far to get trapped up here.
The two ghosts scale up the steps leading to Armageddon’s throne. My eyes widen as I recognize them. One spirit is missing an arm and walks with a pronounced limp. That’s a total giveaway. It’s Aldred and his daughter, Lady Adair.
Aldred bows low before Armageddon’s throne. “We greet thee, oh King.” His voice carries easily through the large marble chamber.
“So nice to see you, Aldred.” Armageddon lets out a dramatic sigh. “But I’m disappointed at the lack of greeting from your wayward daughter. Where’s my proper hello, you little fool?”
Adair bows low, an odd affair since her hip is obviously not working properly. Too bad your ghost-body gets frozen with your appearance at the time of death. Let’s just say that wasn’t Adair’s best day. “Greetings, oh King.”
Armageddon leans forward, his face the picture of rage as his remaining hand grips the stone armrest of his chair. “You can do better than that.” Little bits of black spittle fly furiously from his mouth. “I lost my arm due to your incompetence, and the proper use of my hip.”
“Excuse me, oh King, but I don’t recall fighting you. I thought that was Xavier.”
My brows lift in surprise. You have to hand it to the girl. She’s an equal opportunity sass-mouth, and I know sass. Unfortunately, this isn’t the place for sarcasm, no matter how much I’m enjoying it.
“You’ll pay for that.” Reaching out with his good arm, Armageddon grasps Adair by the throat. Her ghostly body turns red, and then, it bursts into flame, making Adair scream in pain and terror. Every shriek rattles up my spine; no one should endure agony that intense. Through her horrified howls, another, smaller moan echoes through the chamber.
It’s Maxon again. I glance down to the Looking Glass on my wrist. My boy lays curled on his side, his eyes fluttering open. The spell itself starts to flicker in and out of existence. Hildy’s finally losing her connection to my son.
Think, Myla.
I have to get past those golems. An idea starts forming at the back of my mind. My pulse skyrockets.
Give another minute, Myla. You’ll figure it out.
On the floor below us, the King of Hell releases Adair’s throat, tossing her aside. Her body quickly cools to the typical shade of ghostly white. Rising to his full height, Armageddon looms over the quaking figure of Aldred. “Control your daughter. I won’t say it again.”
Aldred rushes over to Adair’s prone body. He stares at it for a moment before hauling back his leg and kicking her in the gut. Ouch. This is why we keep spirits in the Ghost Towers sedated; they can do a number on each other when they’re pissed.
“Do as the King of Hell says, bitch.” Aldred looks over to Armageddon, anxious for approval.
Adair curls into a fetal position. “Whatever you say, Father.”
A memory flashes in my mind. I offered Adair the chance to go to Heaven in exchange for information on the traitors in Acca. As I later found out, the numero uno traitor was Aldred, and he’d manipulated everyone around him into joining his quest to reclaim the throne of Antrum. Adair had been obsessed with Lincoln, sure, but she was also brainwashed into doing whatever her father told her, and Daddy said she was going to marry the high prince. The whole thing had short-circuited her brain.