All That Lives Must Die

73 DUX BELLORUM

Fiona wondered if her brother had another supernatural talent beside his music, one where no matter how hard she tried, he got them both deeper into trouble.

And now it wasn’t just him and her anymore. It was Robert and Mr. Welmann. And it had been Amanda, too.

Fiona was going to have a long talk with Eliot about responsibility when they got out of here.

If they got out of here.

They walked down a gigantic hallway you could’ve taxied a jumbo jet through-the arching walls made from skulls, all of them staring. Luminescent mushrooms sprouted from grinning mouths and eye sockets. It was super creepy.

Eliot strolled alongside Jezebel as if they were going to get some coffee at Cafe Eridanus.

His crush and the resulting lack of intelligence reminded her of the way she’d felt last summer for Robert.

Fiona cast a sideways glance at Robert. He pulled on his Paxington jacket, tucked in his shirttails, and smoothed his wild hair. He caught her gaze and smiled like everything was going to be all right.

She quickly looked away.

There was no sense mooning over that lost cause now.

She wished Mitch were here. What wouldn’t she give to hold his hand-and jump back home or some exotic location (anywhere not in the middle of a war zone).

She turned back to Eliot. He looked like a dope walking next to his girlfriend. Fiona felt a flash of jealousy, but decided to let him be. Wherever Jezebel was taking them, it wasn’t going to be the happy ending Eliot was hoping for.

The hallway opened into a room as large as a stadium filled with hundreds of guards (all with those deadly looking rifle lances). In the center on a raised dais was a throne of bones, held together with vines and sprouting blossoms.

Queen Sealiah sat there. She wore armor with scales beaten into the shapes of phalaenopsis orchid petals. On her hips were curved daggers, and a sheathed sword with a cracked hilt and ragged leather handle that looked oddly familiar.

But all this was secondary to Sealiah herself. Her hair was copper red and her skin the color of molten bronze. Her eyes flashed as if they were faceted emerald as her gaze swept over them.

And beautiful? She was way beyond beauty.

Fiona couldn’t compare her to any other person or even goddess she’d seen. Not even Dallas came close.

This was an Infernal queen in her lair. And like some big fat spider, Fiona sensed countless threads of power radiating to her from the land around them.

Despite the contempt she felt for this side of her family, Fiona knew she had to show respect, and keep her fear and ever-shortening temper in check, or this could be a very brief audience.

“Greetings to you, son and daughter of the Prince of Darkness,” Sealiah said. Her voice was liquid velvet. “Destroy everything you touch.”

Fiona didn’t understand the reference, but nonetheless she bowed her head. Eliot had the good sense to do the same.

But Fiona didn’t bow too low. She sensed that showing too much respect would be just as bad as not showing any (and she wasn’t about to take her eyes off the Infernal even for a second).

Jezebel fell to her knees and lay prostrated before her Queen. Jezebel, of all creatures-always proud and strong and never bending an inch-acting like a slave girl?

Eliot fidgeted and looked torn between wanting to pull her up and knowing this would be a breach of protocol.

It was so degrading.

Sealiah nodded at them, which Fiona guessed was a huge concession of respect, given the circumstances. The Queen rose and strode down to their level. She was a lot shorter up close-not even as tall as Fiona.

There was a smell from her, too: the perfume of every flower. . with something toxic mixed in. Fiona tried not to gag.

Sealiah halted, scrutinizing them.

Fiona tried to meet the Queen’s gaze, but she had to look away. The depth of the Infernal’s stare was like her mother’s-but worse because there didn’t seem to be any soul reflected behind her eyes.

Could she be related by blood to something this evil? Miss Westin had lectured on the Infernals and told them the relationships between the fallen angels were not well understood by mortals. So Sealiah could be Louis’s cousin, aunt, or even his daughter. She and Sealiah could be sisters for all Fiona knew. Ick.

She didn’t imagine, however, that they’d have sleepovers or talk about boys anytime soon.

Eyes downcast, Fiona once more noticed the Queen’s sword. She had seen it before somewhere. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it-but she squelched that wild impulse, knowing it would be suicidal.

Sealiah moved to stand before Eliot, and her gaze lingered long, a look Fiona had seen before on hungry dogs.

“So wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh, Eliot.”

He nodded, face flushing.

The Queen passed Mr. Welmann like he wasn’t there.

She stopped before Robert and stroked his cheek with a long fingernail. He inhaled deeply, shocked at her touch. “And Mr. Farmington,” Sealiah murmured. “An honor to have a true hero in our midst.”

Hero? Robert? Fiona had no idea what Sealiah was thinking, but she definitely didn’t like her lascivious smile as she looked Robert over-or her touching him.

Fiona cleared her throat.

Sealiah cocked an eyebrow at her. “Speak.”

Fiona managed to sound as respectful as if she were addressing the League Council: “I beg pardon, Your Majesty, but we’re not looking for trouble. We just came to get Jezebel and get her back to school.”

“Oh?” Sealiah strode back to her throne, sinking upon it with a great flourish. “You’re not looking for trouble? Then why do you look ready to do battle?”

Sealiah beckoned to Jezebel before Fiona replied, however, and said, “Rise, my protegee, and speak. What do you say to this request?”

Jezebel got to her feet. Even after degrading herself, she still looked regal and proud, without a speck of dust on her.

How did she do that? When Fiona couldn’t keep one lousy school uniform clean to save her life.

“Nothing would please me more, my Queen,” Jezebel said.

Eliot straightened and practically floated next to her at this.

“But,” she said, “I cannot. My place is fighting by your side.”

Eliot deflated.

“And even if you sent me,” Jezebel continued, glancing at Eliot, “I could not live. The Poppy Lands are torn asunder. My power ebbs. If I were to leave, I would perish before I could cross the train tracks.”

Every hint of an expression drained from Eliot’s features and he stared straight ahead, thinking.

Fiona psst’d at him and he looked back at her.

She shot him a glance that said: Okay-we tried again-let’s go.

The Queen’s previous amusement cooled and her features hardened. “We fight for our lives against an ancient enemy. If we lose, Jezebel will, if lucky, die. If not, she will be captured by Mephistopheles and tortured for all eternity.”

Eliot paled, but in a level voice, he asked, “What can we do to help?”

“Fight with us,” Sealiah told him, leaning forward. “If you battle at Jezebel’s side, our chances greatly improve. With your sister’s strength and that of your hero companion added to that, victory would be assured.” Her eyes gleamed, and Fiona saw a spark behind them now: the flickering green fires of bloodlust.