My brain focuses on a single thought. How is Maxon?
Craning my neck, I strain to see my son. His prison box is no longer an impenetrable square container set on the marble floor. Instead, it’s now a ragged shell of burnt-out metal with Maxon standing in the center. My boy wears a charred Rixa tunic, his black hair disheveled and mismatched eyes wild. His chest heaves with erratic breaths. I’ve never seen him so utterly out of control.
“I can make my own light!” screams Maxon. His little arms reach high. Long bolts of lightning crackle out from his fingertips, slamming into either wall, bursting huge holes in the smooth black stone.
I gasp with horror. Oh, no. He’s lost it completely.
“Maxon! Listen to me. It’s Mommy. You need to stop right now.”
“I don’t like the dark! Don’t make me stay in the dark!” Maxon swings his arms around violently. Two more shafts of lightning stream out from his hands, this time blowing massive holes in the ceiling. Chunks of stone tumble to the ground around Maxon, narrowly missing him.
Unholy Hell. He’s going to kill us all.
I scan the room, looking for Armageddon or any of his demon guards. Bodies lay all around. I don’t see the King of Hell, but I do find Anubis and Nefer standing tall and still at the base of the stone stairs that lead to Armageddon’s throne.
“We’re coming to help you,” says Anubis.
“No!” screams Maxon. Another blast whips off his arms, slamming Nefer squarely in the chest. She crumples forward; Anubis cradles her body in his arms. Kiya lets out a piercing cry and scrambles to her side.
Not Nefer. He can’t have killed Nefer.
Lincoln slowly steps toward Maxon. “You need to calm down, son.”
Maxon’s head snaps in my direction, his arms pointing directly at my chest. “I don’t like the dark, Mommy!”
Damn. If he lets out another igni burst right now, I’ll get hit full-on, just like Nefer. “I understand, baby. No one will keep you in the dark.”
“The bad man did! The bad man said so!” He reaches out for me, fresh bolts of lightning crackling around his fingertips.
It’s an effort to keep my voice calm. “Maxon, put your hands down.”
More lightning bolts whirl around his arms. “I don’t like the dark!”
The room fills with a blinding bright light as Maxon expels his greatest electric charge yet. I brace my body, waiting for the impact. Just as the lightning bolts release from my son’s arms, Lincoln lunges at Maxon, aiming his little hands toward the ceiling again. The huge blast shoots out from his fingertips, slamming into the arched stone overhead. More chunks of rock tumble to the ground. Lincoln curls his body around Maxon, protecting him from any fallout. A hailstorm of rock slams into my husband’s back.
For a moment, everything is silent. I crane my neck, trying to see what’s become of my husband and son. My heartbeat is so strong, I can feel it in my throat. “Maxon? Lincoln?”
No reply.
“Please, can you hear me?”
A long groan finally sounds in response. Lincoln sits upright, Maxon clinging to his chest, weeping. They’re alive, both of them. I start crying too, great sobs tearing from my throat.
Anubis still holds an immobile Nefer at the bottom of the stairs. Kiya paws her face gently.
Lincoln wraps his arms more tightly around our son. “Don’t worry, buddy. Daddy’s got you.” With pained movements, Lincoln rises to his feet and limps over to me. He kneels beside my throne, ignites my father’s baculum into a dagger and starts cutting loose my bindings. Maxon’s face stays buried in Lincoln’s chest. Once I get free, my first order of business is to wipe the Leech Guard venom from my neck. That stuff is gross.
I spy the glisten of red on Lincoln’s upper arm. “You’re hurt.”
“I got hit in the shoulder and my lower back. Body armor took most of it. I’ve had worse.” He releases the last binding from my torso. “There, now you’re free.”
I leap from the chair and wrap my arms around Maxon and Lincoln. “Mommy’s here, baby. We’re safe.”
Maxon talks through sobs. “Where’s the bad man?”
His words freeze me in place. Good question.
I slowly rise to my feet and scan the throne room. Armageddon sits halfway down the stairs, his torso hunched over. He breathes in rough wheezes, his eyes fixed on us with an evil stare. A small cloud of dust and rock surrounds him, blocking a full view of his body. I slowly approach the King of Hell.
My mind snaps into battle mode, ready for his counter-strike. What is Armageddon playing at? Another booby trap? The dust settles around him, and I can see that this time, there is no game he can play.
Almost a full metal panel of Maxon’s old prison box is now embedded in Armageddon’s chest. Black blood pools around his seated form. I stalk closer, reaching for my baculum in their holster at the base of my spine.