Chapter 49
DANA AND I raced out of the barn.
“What’s going on?” I called to Willy.
“Choppers. Hundreds of them.”
“What about the dome?”
Joe shook his head. “They overrode whatever you cooked up.” He was shouting to be heard over the din of the thumping rotors. “I can’t explain it, but the dome has disappeared. Completely.”
I shielded my eyes and glanced up at the sky. The stars were all gone, blotted out by the horde of hovering helicopters. The aircraft looked more like heavily armored dragonflies than conventional whirlybirds.
One helicopter drifted down from the pack and, swaying slightly, landed right in front of us, kicking up a funnel cloud of dust and straw.
A clamshell-style door opened on the side of the craft to reveal a set of stairs. A giant—maybe fifteen feet tall—descended the steps. He was dressed in princely robes, and his curly hair and beard writhed around his grotesque face as if they were twin nests of coiled snakes. When his leaden, size thirty-six boots touched the ground, the whole Earth shook.
The emissary beat his chest with his fist, then held up an open palm as if he were a Roman tribune.
“Grakkings, oodoo pooflee,” he proclaimed. “Utoo a reschendedante Gogg. Ja reschendente atta ulti magno chimando e devoosheekmo gensei Abbadon.”
The FBI agents and my gang had giant “Huh?” expressions etched on their faces.
Fortunately, my alien brain contains the equivalent of a universal translator. I can understand any creature speaking any language—including the languages they don’t teach in any high school in the known universe.
“He says, ‘Greetings, weak ones,’ ” I translated. “ ‘I am Ambassador Gogg. I represent the almighty, ever-powerful, and all-destroying Lord Abbadon.” Even though he looks like he’s on his way to a supersized toga party, I thought.
While Gogg preened and waited for us to cower in fear before his towering magnificence, I stepped forward.
“Itchay umknock gensei Abbadon solto fracking ‘ulti magno e chimando’ que sempro no reschendente wimmish?”
“Huh?” muttered Joe.
“I said, ‘If your so-called Lord Abbadon is so freaking ‘almighty and powerful,’ why is he afraid to represent himself?’ ”
“Nice, Daniel,” said Dana. “Very diplomatic.”
The giant plodded forward. “Vu diche nomin Daniel?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out. And, by the way, you’re on Earth now. So speak English, French, Spanish, Chinese, Lithuanian—anything but that dreck that’s dribbling out of your face-hole now.”
“As you wish, weakling,” Gogg said, haughtily raising his long, anteater-esque snout. “Tell me, Daniel: Do you miss your little pony?”
“Xanthos isn’t gone.” I tapped a hand to my heart. “He’s still here.”
Gogg raised a dainty paw to his nose nozzle. “Oh, my. Such sentimental claptrap. Tell me, do you miss your little friend Melody? Or is she still here, too?” He drummed his triple-jointed fingers in a paradiddle over his chest to mock me.
“If you harm one hair on Mel’s head, I will personally destroy you ten seconds after I destroy Abbadon!”
He stopped his girlish giggles and got all huffy. “My, my, my. Such big, bold words.”
“He can back those words up,” shouted Dana. “Just ask anybody on The List of Alien Outlaws on Terra Firma.”
“Yeah,” said Joe. “Ask Attila. Or Number 3, that flaming burnout we extinguished in London.”
“Ask numbers 6, 43, 40, or 19!” shouted Willy.
“Oh, wait,” said Dana. “You can’t ask any of them. Because Daniel’s already done to them what he’s going to do to you and your ‘Lord’ if you idiots don’t do as you’re told and bring back Mel!”
“Oh, Lord Abbadon is quite willing to set her free,” said Ambassador Gogg with a grin that sent his slippery snake beard squirming again. “In fact, I am here to parlay over the terms of her release.”
Agent Judge had heard enough. He strode forward and stood by my side. “And what, exactly, does Abbadon want in exchange for my daughter?”
“Nothing much,” said Gogg. “Just him.”
And he flapped out a limb to point at me.