Page 20

Chapter 20

Curtain Calls

The applause showered upon us by the Lords Devilish upon the stage that was their clashing scarlet cathedral was beyond enthusiastic. This was raucous applause. Ecstatic applause. The kind of applause of which the finest minstrels, stage actors and politicians can only dream.

‘Bravo!’ bellowed Lord Ire.

‘Wonderful, simply wonderful!’ cheered Lord Temptation.

‘Brought a tear to my eye,’ added Lord Gluttony. ‘And Infernals haven’t even got tear ducts!’

Pretty soon you won’t have a skull, either, you piece of shit.

Despite my show of indifference, the sight of me as the literal embodiment of cruelty and violation– that wasn’t going to fade with a few weepy late-night therapy sessions around the campfire. I was pretty sure it would fade when I was done killing Lord Gluttony some day after we’d finished preventing eternal war from wrecking our already pretty crappy Mortal realm.

‘Tenebris always said you were a good time, Cadester.’ Lord Whimsy gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. It shattered the bones. ‘Oops, sorry, pal.’

‘No problem,’ I said, grunting as I tried to keep from falling unconscious. ‘You can fix it when you stick my guts back in my torso.’

‘Oh, right. Here, let me help you with that.’

In a just and merciful universe, the reversal of our injuries would have happened with the snap of taloned fingers. Unfortunately, this universe is a horror show that makes the cheap theatrics of the Lords Devilish pale by comparison, so we had to sit there in silent agony while their malefic, demoniac and diabolic servants performed a variety of mystical and all-too-mundane surgeries on us. The hardest fix? Getting the tail off Aradeus. That part, admittedly, was fun to watch.

When the healing was done and we’d all established just how vicious and vile we were prepared to be, I stood on unsteady feet before the assembled Lords Devilish and asked, ‘Shall we get the negotiations started, or do you want to screw around some more?’

No one applauded this renewed declaration of defiance, but none of them were laughing, either, which meant they were finally ready to get down to the haggling.

‘You seek information,’ said Lord Gloom. His horns, a thicket of twisted bones, grew like vines from both his temples.

I hate it when people state the obvious as if it were some profound insight, so I countered with something less obvious. ‘And the thirteen of you, no doubt, seek to screw with the Aurorals but are too chicken-shit to do it yourselves.’

‘Very well,’ said Lord Avarice, whose glowing orange eyes were barely visible beneath the six tiny downwards-curving horns above each of his brows. ‘Let us begin wi — ’

‘No,’ I said, cutting him off. I glanced at Galass, Corrigan, Shame, Alice, Aradeus and Temper, all of whom– well, except the kangaroo– were looking as shaky as I felt after our respective torments. ‘First, you pay the fine.’

‘The fine?’ asked Lord Ire, tendrils of angry flame like lashes whipping out from the tips of his massive bull horns to sting my cheeks. ‘What “fine” would a petty Mortal wonderist levy against us?’

‘You’ve just put us through seven hells, so before we go making any deals, I want some information up front. Prove to me that you dumb bastards know anything useful and then we’ll talk about making a trade for the rest.’

My demand was highly unusual – you might even have called my behaviour rude and unseemly. However, we’d showed them we could take a punch, so they knew we were not to be fucked with.

‘Okay, Cadey boy,’ said Lord Whimsy. His chuckle told me he’d been expecting my ultimatum all along, and meant to use the proof that they did have the actual intelligence we needed on the Spellslinger’s mysterious employer to further tantalise us into doing whatever they wanted. ‘We’ll give you a little taste for free. Call it a gesture of good faith.’

Whimsy waved his claws as if he were summoning a waiter at a restaurant. The analogy turned out to be at least somewhat apt when part of the outer wall dissolved behind us and in walked the prick who’d sworn up and down to me that he hadn’t known anything about the so-called Apocalypse Eight, even after we’d freed him from a secret Auroral prison and certain torture.

‘You know something, Tenebris?’ I asked. ‘You’re starting to make me question your integrity.’

The diabolic grinned. ‘It’s like I told you, old buddy. I’m a patriot. Gotta think of the bigger picture.’ He sauntered up to us, bowed to his superiors. ‘With your permission, my Lords?’

From atop their thrones, the thirteen Devilish nodded their assent, none of them apparently noticing the note of mockery in Tenebris’ words.

The diabolic turned to me and stroking the curve of one horn, said, ‘So, you want to know about the Spellslinger? You want the missing piece of the puzzle the Lords Celestine are either too clueless to have found out or just decided to keep from you? Well, gather round, kiddies. Fry yourself up some leeches and eyeballs, because Uncle Tenebris has a story to tell you. Oh, and the best part, Cade, old buddy? All this mess you’re trying to prevent? Turns out it’s all your fault.’