All That Lives Must Die

Whose blood, and whose lust, however, Fiona wasn’t sure of.

“Excuse me a second, Your Majesty.” Fiona held up a finger. “Eliot and I need to talk.”

She pulled him six steps back. Robert and Mr. Welmann joined them.

“I’m staying,” Eliot whispered to her.

Like she couldn’t have guessed that, and yet, that didn’t stop her from hissing back, “Are you crazy!”

Eliot shrugged.

“She’s right,” Robert said, looking physically pained to admit this. “I’m all for helping, but this side has its back against the wall. They’re going to lose.”

Eliot frowned and shook his head. . but nonetheless looked uncertain.

Fiona had seen this before. Eliot knew he was wrong, but he was about to dig in his heels anyway and never give up.

She felt like slugging him, which actually had some appeal. She bet she could knock Eliot out, and then, as she’d promised herself, drag him back to San Francisco for his own good.

She glanced at the Queen and the hundreds of soldiers surrounding them. She wasn’t sure how well walking out of here was going to go over with the Flower Queen, though.

She had to take charge before Eliot redoubled his resolve and went beyond being a mere idiot-and became a suicidal idiot.

“We can’t help you,” Fiona told Sealiah. She nodded at Jezebel, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Jezebel gave her a curt nod. Not even a flicker of hate. . as if she wanted them (okay, probably just Eliot) safe and far from here, no matter what it’d cost her.

Sealiah appeared unruffled.

Fiona didn’t like that one bit.

“Perhaps,” the Queen said as her predator smile reappeared, “I may offer some other incentive?”

“I really doubt it,” Fiona said.

Sealiah arched one brow and gestured. Two guards dragged a man forward. He was bound in silver chains and a metal band covered his mouth.

It was Louis.

Fiona blinked and looked again. It was her father.

“Let him go,” she and Eliot said together.

“Louis is my prisoner.” Sealiah walked behind their father and yanked on his chain, pulling him to his knees. “We will do as we please with him.”

Eliot unslung his guitar.

Fiona found that her bracelet was loose in her hand.

Around them, hundreds of knights leveled their rifles.

“Cool it, kids,” Mr. Welmann whispered. “There are other ways to make deals-especially with them.”

Fiona didn’t get what he meant, but Eliot seemed to because he nodded, stepped forward, and asked, “So, you’re saying if we fight for you, you’ll let our father go?”

“I do not know about ‘letting him go,’ ” Sealiah said with a theatrical wave of her hand, “but I will let him live, which is better than the fate that awaits him if Mephistopheles wins.”

Fiona locked gazes with her father-he couldn’t speak because of the gag-but something in his eyes said that there was a lot more going on here, and a lot more at stake than just his life.

“No deal,” Eliot said.

The guards around them crowded closer.

Sealiah smile deepened and fang tips protruded. Bloodred claws appeared from her fingertips.

“Then,” she purred, “we are at an impasse. Unless you wish to roll for terms?”

Louis gave Fiona and Eliot an almost invisible nod of his head yes.

Understanding dawned on Eliot’s face. “You mean dice?”

“Yes,” Sealiah said. “Just name the terms you wish.”

“My terms. .?” Eliot pondered. “I’ll fight for you-for Jezebel’s sake,” he said, “but I want you to let my father go immediately.”

Sealiah tapped her full lips, thinking, and her claws retracted. “Agreed, as long as he is willing to fight for my side as well.”

Louis gave a lamentable sigh.

“And,” Eliot said. “You let my sister and my friends go back.” He looked at them. “If, that’s what they want.”

“If you win the roll,” Sealiah said. “Of course.”

“Wait, I’m not agreeing to any of this,” Fiona protested.

Sealiah held up her hand indicating silence, and Fiona thought she better shut her mouth.

Eliot had a plan-what precisely she wasn’t sure-but if she lost her temper now, things would get bloody fast.

“And if I win,” Sealiah told Eliot, “you fight for me and also pledge your life and soul with an unbreakable oath.”

“No way!” Fiona shouted.

The thought of her brother bowing and scraping before this creature was too much. She started forward, her bracelet chain in her hand, growing and lengthening, links sharpening to circles of razor.

Could she even fight Sealiah and her knights? Would the Pactum Pax Immortalus neutrality treaty between the fallen angels and the League prevent her from interfering? Or was she enough her father’s daughter. . enough Infernal, to cut the Queen’s head off as she had Beelzebub’s?

Maybe it was time to put that to the test once more.

Eliot turned to her-and the look on his face stopped her dead in her tracks.

His eyes were cold and dark and resolute. Despite everything they’d been through, he looked like, for once in his life, he knew exactly what he was doing.

On the other hand, Eliot always-and she meant always, without fail-got them into more trouble.

But that look. .

She finally blinked. “Okay,” she murmured. “Just don’t screw this up.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he told her.

Fiona figured it couldn’t hurt to let Eliot try whatever it was he had up his sleeve-because if it didn’t work, she planned on getting out of here anyway, Eliot in tow, even if that meant cutting down everything in her way.

“I offer you one in six odds,” Sealiah told Eliot.

“Even odds.” Eliot said. “Or no deal. Take or leave it.”

Sealiah shrugged as if this were a trivial matter. She passed one hand over another, and as if by sleight of hand, a small white cube appeared. It was a six-sided die, with tiny symbols on its faces.

She descended the stairs to meet Eliot and offered it to him.

He accepted the die and examined the sides. Etched onto the faces was a scrimshaw head-eating-tail snake, two prancing dogs, three crossed scimitars, four stars, five hands (each making a different rude gesture), and six ravens on the wing.

“Odd or even?” Sealiah asked.

“Even, if your Majesty pleases.” Eliot turned the die so six scrimshawed black birds faced up.

Eliot closed his hand and shook the die. He concentrated, blew on his fist, and cast the die onto the steps.

It rolled and bounced and spun up on one corner like a top.

Eliot leaned forward, his gazed fixed upon the die.

Sealiah, too, stared at it.

The spinning cube gyrated back and froth.

Dots of sweat appeared on the Queen’s brow. Eliot’s hands clenched and whitened.