I keep talking to Maxon, low and soothing. I’m not even sure what I say; I just keep up a steady stream of calming chatter while Lincoln tears through the various treasure chests by Armageddon’s throne.
As I speak to Maxon, Adair’s misty form slowly steps toward me. I’m not worried. There’s nothing she can do me as a ghost. For his part, Aldred crouches against the wall, trying to merge with the shadows. He’s such a loser.
Adair limps to stand beside me, careful to keep her back to her father.
Interesting. If I know anything about interrogations—and I’ve learned a lot the last few years—then Adair wants to say something to me. And the way she’s angling her body away from her father? She doesn’t want him to know a single word.
Adair’s mouth barely moves as she speaks. “Don’t react to my voice.”
I keep searching the box, checking and rechecking the seams. Across the room, Aldred tilts his head to one side, his ghostly eyes fixed on Adair.
“I have information,” whispers Adair. “I can help.”
Ghost or not, I know how Adair’s mind works. “In exchange for what?”
“My freedom, Myla.” She moves closer. “I want you to kill my soul.”
“What? You may be in the torture pits now, but there are other levels of Hell that are more pleasant. Now that Armageddon’s dead, a friend of mine may become Queen. I could put in a good word for you. But if I kill you now, you’ll be erased for all eternity. Are you sure you want that?”
“You heard me. Free my soul.”
Turning around, I look into her spectral eyes. Every line of her face is etched with agony. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, I’m begging you. I gave up so much for Aldred’s dreams of rule. I thought I was doing it for my father’s love, but he cares nothing for me. Every moment I’m here is pure torture, and that pain comes from not from the torture pits. It’s from knowing I wasted my life on empty lies. I want to be free from that. Do you understand?”
I nod slowly. “I’ll free you.”
“Thank you.” She chokes back a sob. “I’m so sorry, Myla. For everything.”
The agony in her face is almost unbearable. “I know you are. I’m glad I can give you peace.”
Aldred starts to march up the stairs, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you two gossiping about?”
“I’m calming my son,” I say in a menacing tone. “You keep your foul self away from me or I’ll skewer you into nothingness. Do we understand each other?”
He bows low. Got to hand it to the guy, he’s an ace at groveling. “Yes, Great Scala.”
“Get back to your place against the wall. I want you where I can see you.”
“As you command.” Aldred scurries away.
I reignite my baculum as a dagger. “Are you ready, Adair?”
“Wait,” she says quickly. “There’s something you need to know. I…” She swallows on against another sob.
“What is it?”
“It’s Armageddon.”
“What about him?”
“He’s not dead. That was an enchanted double in case someone broke in to save Maxon. The real Armageddon is in the tower at the Walls of Hell, watching the Plains of Fire. He’s waiting for Xavier’s army to attack.”
My heart sinks. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. We didn’t kill Armageddon; this was all his back-up plan. Schemes within schemes, including a fake helm. How very Armageddon of Armageddon. Damn, I hate that guy.
“We don’t need to kill Armageddon any more. If he’s up at the Walls of Hell, then he can stay there for all I care. I’m getting my kid and making tracks.”
“There’s more. That helm is booby-trapped.” She glances nervously around the room. “You have to kill me now. If he finds out what I’ve told you—”
“I’ll keep my word, Adair. Tell me about the trap.”
“The helm is a bomb on a timer.”
“What kind?” I’ve learned a lot about booby traps while on demon patrol.
“A pretty basic variety, I think. A level one demon made it.”
“Why so low?”
“Everyone’s who’s useful is at the wall, waiting for your father.”
“That’s good, then. Level one means we’ll get some ticking before it goes off.”
“Still, when it explodes, it won’t hurt ghosts like me. And Maxon will be protected in his prison. But you and Lincoln?” She shakes her head. “You need to run.”
“I’m not leaving my son. And if it’s on a timer, then you said a key word. Time. We have some and we’re going to use it.” I gesture to Lincoln. “Any luck over there?”
“Not yet.” A small pile of odd junk lies around his feet.
“We’ve got a countdown to worry about here.”
Lincoln freezes, his gaze shifting between Adair’s frightened face and my look of steely resolve. He knows both of us well enough to get the gist of what’s going on without playing twenty questions. “How much longer do we have?”
Adair raises five fingers in my direction. “We’ve got five minutes.”