All That Lives Must Die

gotten here in the first place. She vowed she wouldn’t repeat that mistake.

It’d take time, but she had to consider what this meant to her. She wasn’t sure what exactly she had to do first. . but Fiona knew with all her heart and soul that her war with the Infernals had just begun.

67. The first printed Faust legend is Historia von D. Johann Fausten (1587) written by an anonymous German author. The publisher Johann Spies (1540–1623), however, claimed the chapbook was culled from the journal of the original Dr. Faustus. He explains that Faustus ritualistically invited the Devil to reside within him, so that the Devil could share mortal experiences (such as love), while he would gain Infernal knowledge. In a note scribbled on his first draft-Christopher Marlowe (1564–1593), author of the English The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, claimed to have used the same ritual. Marlowe was reputedly an atheist, and while awaiting trial for heresy, Marlowe died. Numerous accounts say that he was killed in a drunken brawl, assassinated, while some claim that he stepped into a shadow and was never seen again. Marlowe was buried in an unmarked grave at St. Nicholas, Deptford, so this later assertion cannot be disproved. The Journal of Dr. Faustus resides in the Beezle Collection, part of the Taylor Institution Library Rare Book collection, Oxford University, and may be viewed only by special permission from the Stephenson Family Trust. Golden’s Guide to Extraordinary Books, Victor Golden, 1958, Oxford.

81 INFERNAL LORD

By the time Eliot pushed and shoved his way past Sealiah’s knights, all he saw was Fiona. Mephistopheles was gone.

Sealiah, Robert, Mr. Welmann, and even Louis were all there, staring at his sister.

Fire burned in Fiona’s lap. The coals disintegrated to ash even has Eliot watched. The heat didn’t seem to hurt Fiona or even scorch the shreds of her school skirt.

Eliot was about to ask her what had happened-but shut his mouth as his eyes met hers. They were red from crying and full of pain. . and utter contempt for all of them.

Across the battlefield shadows dissolved and vanished; patchwork soldiers either fell apart, or they came to their senses and rejoined Sealiah’s army.

The war was over.

Eliot wanted to shout in triumph, but his elation died as he glanced at Robert, who looked like he’d been hurt, covered in blood. . but more than that, hurt on the inside. Mr. Welmann held him back from Fiona.

Eliot couldn’t stand it. “Fiona,” he whispered. “What happened?”

The fire in her lap guttered and went out. Fiona examined her ash-covered hands. She finally looked up at Eliot. He’d never seen her in such agony.

“It was Mitch,” she said.

She had to be dazed. Eliot shook his head. “That’s not possible. It was Mephistopheles.”

In hushed tones, she explained exactly how it was possible. How Mephistopheles approached Mitch, the distant progeny of Dr. Faustus-how Mitch had let him in-how Mephistopheles purposely had not dragged them into this war. . as it had been planned by Sealiah and Louis and the rest of the Infernal Board.

As she related this last bit, she glared at their father.

Louis rolled his eyes and made a gesture with his hands as if to say, What exactly did you expect?

Eliot had never suspected Mitch. He’d studied and fought by an Infernal all year and hadn’t even sensed it? Eliot had known about Sealiah’s part in this, though. Jezebel had admitted as much. That little truth and trust between them had made it all the more difficult to abandon her.

But the thing that really got to Eliot was how connected it at all been. The Infernal Board had been involved? His father?

“Mephistopheles had just agreed to leave Sealiah a bit of land,” Fiona continued in a whisper. “He would have withdrawn. There could have been peace between everyone.”

There was more to this she wasn’t telling. Eliot picked up on it: how Fiona had liked Mitch. . and how she’d been reaching out to him before Robert had struck him down. Things had been strained and awkward between Fiona and Robert before this. Now? There’d be a rift between them that’d never heal. . because it wasn’t just Mephistopheles who had been ready to leave the battle-Fiona had been ready to go with him.

“There would have been peace?” Sealiah said with a toss of her coppery hair. “Then disaster has been averted. An ignoble death for our opponent, and all’s well that ends well.”

Eliot felt Sealiah’s power return in a tidal rush. Her connection reestablished to her lost domains. . as well as Mephistopheles’ now-conquered lands. A crown of woven thorns snaked through her hair and blossomed.

Fiona glared daggers at the Queen, which Sealiah ignored as she turned Robert. “And our thanks to you, my Champion. You have Our favor.”

Robert nodded, accepting this “honor,” and handed Sealiah back her sword’s scabbard. All the color, however, drained from him as he took in Fiona’s pained expression.

Sealiah retrieved Saliceran from where it lay in the dirt. She flicked the blade and char sloughed off. The Damascus steel once more wept poison, and fumed where this dripped upon the earth.

Sealiah put the sword away. Eliot shuddered at the wet scraping sound as it slid back into its sheath.

“There is still much to do,” Sealiah told them, a smile spreading across her face. “There are the spoils of war. Celebrations. Honors and treasures to take!”

Fiona stood with great deliberation. She looked at them. Behind her gaze was unstoppable death. Hate rolled off her in waves.

She blinked, however, and looked away.

“You celebrate.” She turned and walked off. “I’ve lost. . everything.”

No one followed her. No one said a thing.

Eliot knew that he should let her be. In her current emotional state, one wrong word could set her off. Better to let her cool and then they would talk.

But as much as he knew that was the logical thing to do, he couldn’t let her suffer alone. He had to stand by her side as he always had for him. Cee had always said: they were stronger together.

“Fiona,” he whispered, catching up to her. “Talk to me. Please.”

She turned and examined him. There was no hate or pain in her eyes anymore, just a long thoughtful glance. She shook her head.

Had this been his fault? Certainly part of it had. If they hadn’t come to Hell, Amanda would be alive, that’s for sure. Sealiah would’ve lost the war, though, which meant Jezebel would’ve been dead-or worse. And Mitch. . wasn’t it better that they found out about him?

Either way, no matter what he would have done, someone lost.

And either way, one of the Infernals gained something: either Eliot helping Sealiah, or Fiona unknowingly falling in love with Mephistopheles.

“It’s not your fault,” Fiona whispered, guessing what he was thinking. “It’s theirs.” She nodded at the Queen and Louis. “The Infernals have used us from the start.”

“Yeah,” Eliot whispered back. “Maybe.”

“They are evil,” Fiona said. “We have to stop them.”

He nodded.

And yet, Eliot wondered how different the Infernals were from the League. The Immortals manipulated them; they manipulated the entire world. What had happened in Costa Esmeralda had to be the tip of the iceberg.

“Eliot,” Louis called. He made a come-hither gesture and pursed his lips tight to indicate some urgency.

“I better go see what he wants. Are you going to be okay?”

Fiona considered a moment. “No,” she said. “But I’m not going to do anything rash. This is going to take a lot of thinking to figure out.”

Eliot reached out and gave her elbow a squeeze. The corner of Fiona’s mouth worked into a microscopic smile, then faltered and collapsed.