“Of course the damned come back,” she told him. “Their torment
Eliot took a step closer to the Poppy Queen. “There has to be a way.”
Sealiah smiled at the challenge in his tone.
His blood burned and he struggled to keep his anger from rising. He took a deep breath, held it, and slowly exhaled.
He realized Sealiah hadn’t answered his question about what happened to dead Infernals-but he had to keep his focus on Jezebel. She was the only thing that mattered.
“She’s gone,” Eliot whispered to her, “but there
Sealiah’s smile vanished. “As I said, she is tied to my power and lands. Help me recover them.”
Eliot pursed his lips. “I’ve already agreed to help you fight.”
“You must do more than that, Eliot. You must fight
He nodded. As if he had any choice now.
Sealiah moved off and shouted orders for her knights to gather weapons, ready artillery, and prepare for battle.
Eliot looked at Fiona. He needed his sister more than ever.
Fiona still looked uncertain. He didn’t blame her. This was all part of a complicated Infernal plot-and they both knew it. For his part, however, it was a plot he’d walked into with open eyes to save Jezebel. For him there was no turning back.
He glanced at his father, who looked like he had something to say, but remained silent. He’d probably tell Eliot that there is no difference from someone in love and someone damned in Hell-eternal torment for both. Maybe he’d be right.
Fiona stood straighter and finally nodded.
She didn’t have to say a thing. He knew she’d made up her mind to stay and help. Fiona would always be there for him.
He’d never take her for granted again. He’d never forget what he owed her.
Mr. Welmann ran his hand over his unshaven chin. A dozen expressions passed over his face and his forehead crinkled in deep thought. He caught Eliot’s gaze, however, and nodded, too.
Robert wiped dirt and blood off his face and then spit. “This sucks,” he told Eliot. “Let’s just do it and get out of here.” He glanced at the covered form of Jezebel. “Get you both out of here.”
Eliot marveled at Robert’s bravado as his friend assumed that they even had a chance outnumbered ten to one, and facing a fully powered Infernal Lord on the battlefield.
He gazed at where Jezebel lay. He wanted to sit next to her. But that wasn’t going to get her back. Fighting-with as much power and ruthlessness as he could muster-smashing Sealiah’s enemy and recapturing her lands-that brutal act was ironically the only way he’d be healed and whole once more.
Louis stepped forward. He smiled sympathetically as if it were an afterthought. He set his hands on Eliot’s shoulders. “May we speak? Alone? Father to son?”
Eliot glanced over the edge of the plateau. Mephistopheles’ armies moved closer. Eliot swallowed, trying to be brave as he listened to the enemy’s thunderous approach.
“Make it quick,” he said Louis.
Eliot braced himself for what he expected to be a speech from Louis about love, and lost love, and how all these things were parts of life, and he was really better off without women-like he needed a lecture in
Instead Louis removed an envelope from the folds of his shirt. It was so worn, the paper was fuzzy. He handed it to Eliot.
Eliot accepted it. “What’s this?”
“It is for your mother, should I not survive.” Louis glanced about. “It was something that she ought to have taken from me in the first place.”
The envelope was unsealed, and Louis hadn’t said he couldn’t look, so Eliot did.
Within were shreds of paper: newsprint and cereal-box cardboard and old phone bills.
Eliot cocked his head, uncertain what they were.
“My heart,” Louis explained. “At least all that’s left after your mother ripped it out and tore it to bits.” He closed the envelope and set his hand over Eliot’s. “I have a feeling you’ll be seeing her after this. . and I will not. Please.”
Eliot didn’t get it. Was this a metaphor? Or Louis playing another cruel joke on his mother?
He looked serious. Eliot detected no outright lie, either.
Eliot tucked the envelope into his pocket.
He had a million things to tell his father. He didn’t know how to say them with any eloquence. But there was no time left.
“Look,” Eliot whispered, “I just wanted to say you haven’t been the world’s greatest father. I wish you’d been there when we were growing up. I guess I wish a lot things that will never happen now. Just be careful so there a chance we can get to know each other. . after.”
“I am always careful, Eliot,” Louis whispered. “Especially in the matters of my own skin.” He leaned closer. “Now, allow me to instruct you in the thirteen ways to avoid getting hit in battle. First there is the classic
Louis’s voice faded as Sealiah approached them. Five people trailed behind her.
Louis cleared his throat, and continued, “As I was saying, be brave and give the enemy no quarter.”
The people with Sealiah wore no armor and carried no weapons. There was a man with a guitar, a man holding a bass guitar, and one carrying bagpipes. (Eliot had only ever seen pictures of that instrument.) The last two, a man and a woman, had long wild hair and carried no instruments.
Sealiah halted before Eliot and gestured to these people with a wave of her hand. “Eliot, allow me to introduce Kurt, Sid, Bon, James, and Janis.”
They bowed low before him.
“Uh, hi,” Eliot said, and waved. “Who are they?” he asked.
The Queen of Poppies arched a long delicate eyebrow as if this were the stupidest question ever asked in all of Hell. “I would not send you into battle ill-prepared, my young Dux Bellorum. They are your band.”65
65. Fans have speculated for decades who precisely composed Eliot’s original band. While the surnames commonly mentioned match famous personas, one must not forget that Sealiah, the Queen of the Poppy Lands, was at that time responsible for the souls of those who had died from overdoses-a very large number of musicians, indeed. Eliot remained tight-lipped about the identities of his band members, not wanting their fans or families to unduly suffer, knowing they were in Hell. Still, fans wonder, and most would have “sold their souls” to hear them perform together. Having heard the band play firsthand, I can tell you that price would’ve been a bargain.
Eliot felt broken inside and that broken part didn’t care about anything anymore. But part of him wanted to scream and toss caution to the winds and play the heck out of Lady Dawn and smash Mephistopheles’ armies to atoms.
. . And maybe then Jezebel would be by his side.
Or was it being in Hell that made him feel that way? Maybe after this was over, he and Fiona and Robert should just go back to Paxington, hit the books, and figure out how to get through the rest of the school year without being killed, maimed, or flunking.
Eliot shook his head clear of those thoughts. He stood on a stage that had been set up near the edge of the
