Maxon (12 page)

“The King of Hell, Armageddon, kept me in this metal prison box. When I have nightmares, I'm back in there.”

I open my mouth, ready to push for more of the story. Maxon senses my movement and his torso stiffens.

Time to change the subject.

“Thanks for coming in to help.”

“Anytime.”

The way he says the word is so tender, something inside me snaps. Hot tears roll down my cheeks. Maxon holds me closer. For the first time in I can't remember how long, I cry my eyes out. Minutes pass before I'm able to get my head together again.

“Sorry about that,” I say.

“About what?”

“Turning into a crybaby. Not what you expected from a warrior like me, huh?”

He kisses my forehead. “Will you promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don't ever think you're not a warrior because you have nightmares. You have to be plenty strong to face those.” He cups my face in his hand, guiding me to meet his gaze. “And your soul is strong as steel, beautiful.”

A warm feeling seeps through my chest. That's about the nicest thing anyone has said to me, ever.

“I never thought of it that way. Thanks.”

“You should get some more sleep.” He tosses a soggy pillow from the bed. “Not here, though.”

I look around the destroyed room. Wallpaper sags toward the floor. Furniture is smashed against the walls. The rug stinks of mold. And that's when it happens. I get in one of those moods where I can't stop saying sorry, even though I'm starting to annoy myself. “Sorry again about the room.”

“Nah, it's like I told you. I don't care. There's another just like it across the hall.” Before I know what's happening, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me away. I debate asking him to put me down, but honestly? It's really nice to be held and carried like this. Every inch of me feels safe and cozy.

Plus, it doesn't last that long. Before I know it, Maxon is setting me down onto the new bed.

“Do you need something else to sleep in?” he asks.

I look down. Gross, I've been wearing the same T-shirt and jeans since forever. “That would be great, actually.”

Maxon whips off his T-shirt and hands it to me. “This work? I'll have my staff get you new clothes and stuff by morning.”

“They work overnight? Isn't everyone asleep?”

“Not on my team. They know I only need an hour of sleep so they work in twenty-four hour shifts when I'm around. What do you say?”

“New clothes, sure. I mean, thanks.”

As I swipe the T-shirt out of his hand, I try not to stare at his bare chest. That's not possible. The guy is seriously ripped.

If Maxon notices my stare, he doesn't say anything. “Bathroom's the second door on the back wall.” He sets a candle on my bedside. “I'm going out for a while, too. Light this if you need me. It alerts Ty. He can get to me anywhere.”

“Okay.” I grip his shirt tightly. It's still warm from his body. “Thanks again for, you know.”

Maxon smiles and his dimples reappear. “Yeah, same here.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Now, get some sleep, Lianna.”

And I do.

Maxon

After I step out of the bedroom, I stare at Lianna's closed door.

What the hell happened back there?

She had a nightmare, I held her, and I talked about Armageddon. Me. No one knows I get nightmares, let alone that they star the King of Hell. Next thing I know, I'll actually tell her what happened.

Damn.

Things with this woman are going too far, too fast. I need to put the brakes on, now. So we got cuddly once. So we shared some secrets. It happens. I'm not getting attached.

With that thought finally straight in my head, I'm able to leave her door. From there, it's a short walk over to my library, which is my favorite room in Arx Hall. The place is pretty old school with its dark oak shelves, leather-bound books, and club chairs. I had Tyberius pimp it out, too. I've got a full bar that's magically restocked with top shelf liquor, along with an enchanted painting that shows demon activity. It's perfect for planning my nightly trips to Earth for kicking evil ass.

Once I'm inside the library, my first stop is the bar. I pour myself two fingers of Macallan '46. I'm only twenty-two, but Tempest is five-hundred-something and a good buddy. He taught me all about whiskey. I take a sip.
Now, that's smooth.

Glass in hand, I walk over to my enchanted canvas. It's a huge framed painting of a world map. Ty did a solid job on this one, although he insisted on putting in old-fashioned squiggly writing. Whatever. As long as it shows me demons, I told him to go to town.

“Show me the latest,” I order.

Like always, my command sets the painting in motion. The brushstrokes rearrange themselves into a new pattern. I sip my whiskey and watch the little bits of color do their thing. Seconds tick by. No surprise, there. This painting always takes a while to warm up.

An older thrax appears in the doorway, dressed in his formal Rixa tunic. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

I nod in his direction. “Hey, Edward.” He's an older dude with jowls and short gray hair. I'm supposed to address him by some formal title that I refuse to learn.

“It seems that we have an unexpected guest,” says Edward.

“Oh, yeah. That's Lianna.”

The glint in his mismatched irises says he's dying for some intel. “Should we plan anything special for her?”

“Good question.” I lean back on my heels, sip my whiskey, and think. I know what I'd do if the guys were here…
And that would be nothing
. But women? What could they possibly want? I snap my fingers, remembering Lianna and my T-shirt.

“Don't I have someone who gets me clothes?”

“Yes, you have a Mistress of Cloth.”

“That's right. Can she scare Lianna up some nice new stuff to wear?”

“The Mistress would be thrilled to do so.”

“Cool. Get it here by morning?”

“Of course.” He stares thoughtfully at the canvas. “Will you still go hunting tonight?”

“Maybe. Depends what's up.” I don't want to leave Lianna, but I don't want to abandon some human to a nasty death by demon, either.

As I down more of my drink, tiny red dashes of paint flicker across the giant map. Each one shows a different Class A on the prowl. Minutes pass and the image gains more definition. Something catches my attention.

“That's interesting.”

“Did you say something, Your Highness?”

“Nothing, Edward. That's all for tonight. Thanks.”

Edward says something formal and leaves. The guy knows better than to push when I'm in the zone. I step closer to the canvas and watch the fresh brushstrokes and statistics.

There's definitely a major spike of activity in the Colorado mountains. Not something I normally worry about, considering the human population there is so low. But now? Colorado's where Lianna's parents were killed. I can't leave that shit alone.

I point to the cluster. “Show me demons in that area.”

The canvas repaints a long list of profiles. The word Incarnate pops up.

Bingo.

“Detail on Incarnate.”

The painting reforms to show a Victorian-looking male with a bowler hat and handlebar mustache. Stats say he creates little taxidermy demons called poppets. My shoulders constrict with rage. That's him. The fucker that imprisoned Lianna.

“Location.”

The image dissolves into more brushstrokes. A lot of Class A jobs have cloaking spells, especially if they've been hunted before. Looks like Silas has been pretty careful, hiding out in outlying places. With any luck, he won't have bothered to cloak his location.

Geographic coordinates appear on the canvas.

That's some luck, all right.

I make a few quick calculations. It's a hike from the nearest Pulpitum to Silas's hideout.

That settles it.

I'm going hunting tonight, and I know the perfect spot.

# # #

It's still dark out as I hike up another ridge in the Colorado mountains. The air's crisp and cold, which is good. Keeps my focus sharp. Around me, a light snow falls through the tall pines. Huge white flakes land on my cheeks and black body armor. I check the GPS read-out on my wrist. Silas's lair is only a few clicks to the West.

Not much longer, now.

I scale another trail until a concrete hole opens up in the mountainside. Steel girders and boxes of building supplies lie busted and decaying in the snow. Looks like some abandoned construction. Military, if I had to guess. The graffiti makes me think it turned into a hang out for wayward kids or drug runners. Maybe both. All those tags are faded now. No one's been here for years.

One guess why.

I step into the darkened concrete hallway. The place is lined with icicles and snow. There's more graffiti, too. Some of it reads ‘beware of demons.' I smile.

Definitely the right place.

The hallway winds downward for a bit before opening onto a small concrete bunker with low ceilings. The place is small. Too small to be Silas's main lair. I wonder where he keeps his number one hideout these days.

I linger in the shadows and stake out the space. A few dead rats lie on the floor. A vat of what looks like blood sits in one corner, beside a dapper-looking guy with a bowler hat and Victorian suit. He doesn't turn to look as I approach.

“Maxon Vidar Xavion Aquilus,” he says. “How kind of you to visit. Everyone knows who you are.”

I step into a pool of electric light. “And you're Silas. I never knew you from fuck. Now you're on my bad side.”

The dumbass still has his back to me. “And why is that?”

“Lianna.” I stalk toward him, my tail arced over my shoulder, ready to strike.

Silas swivels around to face me. “Stay your wrath. I have information.”

My tail wraps around his neck. “I don't give a shit.”

He speaks through rough gasps for breath. “It's… About… Lianna.”

I pause. It sure would be satisfying to off this demon right now, but there's no denying that Lianna's in a tough spot. The right intel could save her life. I lean in to Silas, my voice turning low and deadly.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't torture that info out of you.”

“That will… Take weeks. You don't… Have weeks.”

I loosen my hold on his throat. Slightly. “So, what're you saying?”

“We strike a bargain. I give you information on Lianna; you let me live.”

Sounds familiar.
Silas strikes this bargain a lot.

I glare at the creep for a while. I'd really love to kill him. Still, I can't risk missing good intel.

“Fine. I'll give you an hour's head start. After that, you're fair game if I find you again.”

And I will find you again.

“Agreed.”

“Now, start talking.”

“Making deals is a hobby of mine.” Silas turns back to his worktable and starts skinning a rat. “I made one with Zephyr a long time ago. We share information on a certain topic.”

No question what topic that is.

“Lianna.” I rub my temples, thinking through the implications. “So, if you help Zephyr find Lianna, then he'll let you harvest her life force. That's what you want, isn't it?”

“Her energy is extraordinarily strong.” He inhales like he's remembering the scent of a lovely perfume. “And now would be the perfect time to harvest her.” He sighs. “Too bad she was turned into an elemental. Now, she's no use to my work.” He offers me a sly grin. “Doesn't mean I've lost all interest, though.”

A protective rage heats my bloodstream. “Keep talking like that and the deal's off.”

Silas goes back to fiddling with his rat. “Zephyr knows you have her in Antrum. He's watching all known exit points. My girl has to crawl out sometime. When she does, he'll be waiting.”

My tail bobs menacingly behind me. “What else you got?” I re-wrap my tail around his throat.

“Once Zephyr gets Lianna, he's going after the other Kristalli.”

I tighten the hold on his neck. Not enough to stop him from talking, but enough to make my point. “Keep going.”

Silas's eyes glimmer with fear, good.

“Zephyr's afraid of Tempest,” he says.

“And what does Tempest have to do with this?”

“Zephyr captured one of the Water Valta. He found out where the other Kristalli are hidden. The Kristalli of Fire is in Furonium. Once Zephyr gets Lianna, he's sending all his Air Valta after Furonium.”

“And why would Zephyr tell you something like that?”

“I've promised to fight as well. Me and my poppets.” He gestures to the skinned rat, and then fixes me with a pointed stare. “Do we still have a deal?”

Damn.
I'd so love to kill him. That said, breaking my word is another step toward becoming like the monsters I fight. And I've taken enough steps in that direction already.

“We still have a deal. And you've got fifty-five minutes.”

“Excellent.” A shower of black dust fills the air. My stomach twists with nausea. I've been around enough demons to know what that means. Silas just cast the spell to lock in our agreement.

“Didn't your mother ever tell you?” asks Silas. “Never enter into a deal with a demon.” His face brightens with an evil grin.

And it's that fucking smile that does it. Monster or not, Silas isn't walking out of here without a mark. On reflex, my tail skewers Silas deep in the shoulder. His bones make a satisfying crunch as they snap.

“That,” I say. “Was for Lianna.”

“Liar.” Silas grips his injured shoulder. “You broke your word.”

“You're not dead, are you? The deal stands.”

“No, you changed the terms,” says Silas. “You made things inequitable.”