All That Lives Must Die

She punched him in the shoulder. “What else was I going to do on Wednesday night except study for finals?”

Eliot tried to smile, failed, and shrugged. “Trogium pulsatorium?” he muttered.

That was the soft-bodied, wingless insect commonly called a “bookworm” (although technically it was a louse). This was a poor attempt at vocabulary insult, but it was all he had at the moment.

It was nice to have a moment of something normal between them. Maybe the last time that’d happen.

“Good one,” she replied, and uncharacteristically offered no counter-insult. Instead she looked around and sobered. “Have you seen Louis?”

“Just a second ago. He was at the back of the lines.”

Louis was no longer there, though, and Eliot wondered if his father would be fighting. . or hiding?

Sealiah mounted the stairs to his stage and joined them. Tiny star-shaped orchids sprouted from the links in her armor and drizzled pollen, a cloak of wisteria-laden vines flowed behind her, and clouds of wasps circled high over her head.

Her perfume was intoxicating. Eliot felt dizzy and drowning, but he didn’t mind.

She looked more beautiful than before, like a carving by Michelangelo, as if the impending battle and bloodshed brought out the best in the Infernal queen.

Eliot’s band fell to their knees, and even Eliot felt obliged to give her a short bow.

Fiona stood with her hands on her hips.

“Soon it starts,” Sealiah said to them. “There is a final detail to attend to. Mr. Farmington?”

Robert shucked on his Paxington jacket, came over, and gave her a short bow as well.

“While Eliot and Fiona have more formidable weapons than I could ever provide,” Sealiah said as her gaze slid over the length of Robert. “You, my young hero, have only that toy.” She nodded at the brass knuckles on his hands (the ones that could punch through solid stone).

Robert cupped his fist. “Yes ma’am.” He flushed, but then recovered. “But I know how to use them.”

“No doubt.” She drew her broken sword and held it at an angle so Robert could see its jagged tip, the length of its patterned Damascus steel, and the poison that flowed and dripped onto the stage. “But would you accept the sword Saliceran and wield it in my name?”

Robert’s eyes drank in the weapon, and his hand drifted toward the handle.

It was terrible. And powerful. Eliot didn’t meet any special sense of magic to understand that. It was also something old. Something never meant to be touched by human hands.

“Don’t,” Fiona whispered.

Robert pursed his lips, and purposely didn’t look at Fiona. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Then kneel, hero,” Sealiah commanded. Robert did. The Queen passed the sword down his left side, over his head (without touching the poisoned blade to his shoulders as was traditional) and then down his right side. “I declare you my champion on this battlefield. Rise, Sir Robert Farmington, Captain of the Legion of Lotus, and wielder of Saliceran, the God-Broken.”

She gingerly turned the sword and Robert took it. He stared into the pattern of light and dark metal, fascinated.

Sealiah unbuckled the sword’s sheath and handed it over. She then stood on her tiptoes and kissed Robert on both cheeks. . and as she did so, looked at Fiona.

Fiona glowered and her hands clenched.

Sealiah then stiffened and looked across the Valley. “Ready yourselves,” she told them. “Destroy everything you touch.”

And with that, she strode back to her army.

“Why’d you take that thing?” Fiona rasped at Robert.

Robert turned from her. “Why not?”

Fiona’s mouth opened and she stared at him. “Why? Let try: it’s evil? A gift from an Infernal? Come on, Robert! It’s a trick.”

“Is it a trick,” Robert said, “that the Queen gave me something that might save my life out there?” He turned back and met Fiona’s eyes. “Maybe it bugs you because it levels the playing field between you and me, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve enjoyed bossing everyone around all year. That now that I have some power of my own”-he shook the sword-“you don’t like it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said through clenched teeth.

Eliot wanted to step between them, say something, and fix this. He knew better, though. They’d just focus all their unresolved issues on him-and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

It was so obvious they cared for each other. Equally obvious that they didn’t understand each other.

Fiona had all this power, but more than that, she had all the responsibility that went with that power and being Team Captain and a goddess in the League of Immortals. She felt like she had to protect everyone and win every fight. She’d forgotten that she wasn’t alone.

And Robert? He just wanted to be near Fiona. Surrounded by Immortals and magical families, Eliot could only guess how inadequate he must feel-especially after he’d been fired by the League.

Eliot felt sorry for them.

Robert loved his sister. Fiona probably loved Robert, too, despite her recent dates with Mitch Stephenson. Mitch was nice, had magic, prestige, and was the most well-mannered guy Eliot had ever met. . but he wasn’t Robert. He’d never be the first person Fiona had fallen for.

Robert ducked his head as if he was about to apologize-but the poison dripping off Saliceran smoldered and bust into crackling blue flames.⁶⁶

Fiona backed off three steps. Robert, too, as he held out the sword at arm’s length.

“That’s different,” he whispered.

He sheathed the broken, flaming blade. It extinguished with a sizzle.

Robert and Fiona looked at one another, their anger suddenly quenched as well.

Fiona reached out for Robert. Her brow scrunched together, as she tried to say something.

Which was when Eliot heard the roar of the Mephistopheles’ army-a hundred thousand strong-as they charged across the valley.

66. The magical nature of the God-broken sword, Saliceran, mirrors the heart of its wielder. When held by Infernals, it drips poisons with a wide variety of effects (most involve a painful, lingering death). In the hands a true hero with a noble purpose, it glows or flames. Other accounts have the weapon singing, and even fighting on its own. Of course, it’s most unspeakable incarnation manifested at the end of the Fifth Celestial Age when wielded by one of the Immortal-angel hybrid Post progeny. Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 13, Infernal Forces. Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.

77 TIDE OF BATTLE

Eliot almost dropped Lady Dawn. Nothing had prepared him for tens of thousands of screaming patchwork men, roaring beasts, and buzzing insects that filled the valley and echoed off the mesa.

Robert and Fiona took a step toward that battle cry. How could they be so brave? Was that courage or crazy?

This was Eliot’s fight, if anyone’s, and he felt shaken to the core by that sound. . not drawn to the battle. His cheeks heated with shame.

Fiona turned to him. “We have to go. Do what you can.”

Her face was lined with worry, but then it hardened as her thoughts focused to what Eliot’s had come to know as her “cutting” mind-set.

Robert clasped Eliot’s forearm, said nothing-just gave him a nod.

Fiona and Robert raced toward Sealiah’s defensive lines and vanished in the crowds.

Eliot took a deep breath to steady himself. They were counting on him. He faced his band. “Just follow me,”