"Where are Sumi and Hyacinth?" I asked.

"They're in Purgatory. They're just waiting for the promethium to kill you, and then they're gonna try and crown me as Death."

The breeze-G.o.d knew where it had come from-picked up and wrapped itself sinuously around my sweat-soaked body. The thought of dying right then and there didn't frighten me at all. Maybe that was my fate; maybe I was supposed to tell Frank to go on to Purgatory without me, then when he was gone, I could just curl up on the forest floor and go to sleep.

Forever.

Maybe Death wasn't such a terrible eventuality. At least the idea of expiring in such a beautiful place, surrounded by burnt scarlet maple leaves and the rushing wind, was appealing. So appealing, in fact, that I almost told Frank to go suck on an egg-which would've thus ended my pathetic existence in one fell swoop-but then an image of my sister Clio came unbidden into my mind's eye. Her rakish face, Buddy Holly gla.s.ses, and mischievous smile as she laughed at some stupid joke I'd made . . . brought me back to reality like a punch to my solar plexus.

"Hold my hand, Frank," I said, taking a step toward him so I could slip my hand into his own larger one.

"I like you, Callie," he said as if he'd known all along I would do his bidding. "So much more than I ever thought I would."

I shivered as the wind whipped through my hair, sending chills of trepidation shimmying down my spine. I felt like I'd just traded my soul for absolutely nothing in return.

I put a hand to my belly, my gut twitching under my fingers.

"Take us to Purgatory," I said to the jewel.

And then we were there.

I purposely hadn't closed my eyes this time, keeping them open so I could see for myself how the jewel worked, but I learned nothing. One moment we were in a copse of red maple trees, the next we were in the lobby of Death, Inc.

"Wow," Frank said, looking around the place, "this is wild."

He wasn't talking about the building. He was referring to the frenzied fighting that was taking place outside the plate gla.s.s windows surrounding us. It was a battle of epic proportions: a chaotic shuffle of tattered and bloodied bodies, set against the stark emptiness of the Purgatorial landscape.

I walked over to one of the windows, pressing my face against the transparent surface so I could get a better look at the bloodfest outside. Instantly, a thread of white-hot heat shot through me, propelling me away from the window. Now I understood why the fighting had remained outside: someone had placed a protection spell around the entire building, so no one could get in or out.

Standing a safe distance away from the window, I watched as the fighting escalated so that I had a hard time separating the good guys from the bad ones. Once, I caught sight of Kali, her perfect feminine form bathed in the blood of her foes, teeth gnashing together as she ripped the head off a tall man in casual office attire, hungrily sucking down the hot, red arterial blood as it pulsed in time to his dissipating heartbeat.

I also saw a number of p.o.o.p ball monsters-the preferred foot soldier of Thalia's dead demon husband, Vritra-and that was enough to make me superglad I was dying inside inside the building rather than out there with the walking p.o.o.p patrol. Since I'd been eaten by one of them in the past, a repeat of the experience was not high on my list of things to revisit. There were also fauns and satyrs, Gopi and dragons, human-looking men and women in gold-plated chain mail, and beasts of all shapes and sizes. It was a menagerie of all the mythological creatures from all the different mythological canons the world had ever known. the building rather than out there with the walking p.o.o.p patrol. Since I'd been eaten by one of them in the past, a repeat of the experience was not high on my list of things to revisit. There were also fauns and satyrs, Gopi and dragons, human-looking men and women in gold-plated chain mail, and beasts of all shapes and sizes. It was a menagerie of all the mythological creatures from all the different mythological canons the world had ever known.

"I wonder who's winning," I said to Frank, who'd come to stand beside me at the window.

"Looks like a stalemate," he said thoughtfully.

Struck by another round of gut-wrenching coughing, I was left with a specter of deep, red rose-colored sputum in my hand. Each coughing fit left me breathless, my body aching from the effort. I was getting weaker with every pa.s.sing second and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

"I take that back, Cal," he said, eyes lingering on the carnage outside. "Maybe both both sides are gonna be losers." sides are gonna be losers."

He moved away from the gla.s.s, his eyes roving over the darkened lobby as he took in the cold sterility of the place. The lights were off down here, but you could see the s.p.a.ce had good bones-a real architect's construct of what a concrete and steel skeleton should look like.

"It's cold down here," he continued, pausing before the empty receptionist's desk. He ran a finger over the metal and gla.s.s desktop, then flipped through a crumpled beige folder that was spread out across the works.p.a.ce, obviously left behind when someone was yanked away from their seat without warning.

"They keep the air conditioner set on high," I replied-but I had to admit I was glad for the chilly air. It was a welcome change from the penetrating heat I'd suffered through down in h.e.l.l I noticed a mug of overturned tea on a gla.s.s-topped coffee table. I'd waited in the seat beside it the first time I'd been summoned to see the Board of Death with Jarvis. The liquid was still wet, but just starting to dry around the edges. A magazine lay smashed on the floor next to the seat, haphazardly opened to an article on breast-feeding.

"You think if we find your sister and explain the situation, she'll help me with Sumi and Hyacinth?" Frank asked suddenly, picking up the magazine and giving it a cursory look before throwing it down on a nearby chair.

So that was Frank's game, I realized. Like the Ender of Death, he was looking to play both sides and then he'd sidle up to whoever won.

What a jerk, I thought to myself. I thought to myself. And I'd actually felt sorry for the guy. And I'd actually felt sorry for the guy.

Freed from any and all guilt where Frank was concerned, I decided I would apply his own double-crossing methods to my dilemma-only with better (I hoped) results.

"Well, if it were me," I said, leading him right into my hands. "I'd probably be up in the cafeteria hiding out, but since it's Thalia we're talking about here, I'd try my dad's office. She's always wanted the top job."

"And how do we do that?"

I pointed to the bank of elevators.

"We take a little ride."

I doubted Thalia would be up in the Executive Offices, but I had a strong suspicion that that was where she would've stored my mom and sister.

"Let's take a little look-see," he said, and he walked over to the elevators and pushed the flat gray call b.u.t.ton marked UP. The light above the brushed steel door winked on and the machine whirred to life. Patiently, we waited for a car to descend to our level; then, as the door glided open, we stepped inside.

The interior was fashioned like a simple metal box, its only unique feature being the long panel of b.u.t.tons demarcating the different floors. These b.u.t.tons were so numerous that they ascended from the floor to the ceiling of one whole wall.

"What floor?" Frank asked.

I knew the Executive Offices were on the top floor, so I pointed to the uppermost b.u.t.ton on the panel-one I couldn't have reached by myself without a step stool-and watched as Frank stood on his tippy-toes to press it.

"Good eye." Then he added: "You feel pretty bad, huh?"

That was an understatement. I'd gone from overheating to freezing and now my skin was blanketed in a slick of sickly sweat. Shivering was on the bill, too, but I drew the line at teeth chattering. The elevator door eased shut in front of us, and since I didn't feel like discussing my illness with the man who'd been a party to creating it, I used the hum of the upwardly mobile elevator to try to block him out.

"You really think your sister will be upstairs?" Frank slipped his cowboy hat back on his head.

"I think so," I murmured.

Exhausted, I leaned against the elevator wall, my body sprouting gooseflesh in the chilled air. I decided I didn't like the tenor of his questions one bit, and so silence became the elevator music of choice.

After a few minutes of strained silence, Frank reached out and took my clammy hand, giving my fingers a furtive squeeze. The move so set my teeth on edge I had to really fight the urge to slug him. He was so smarmy, and I was so dying dying, that it was hard for me to reconcile the idea of the two things being able to coexist at the same time. I just didn't understand how he, or anyone for that matter, could hold the hand of the person they were murdering and not feel badly about it. He obviously had a clear conscience-while I, on the other hand, was filled with loathing.

I was fast approaching the point where being trapped in an elevator with Frank was making me claustrophobic, but luckily the car chose that moment to reach its final destination, slowing to a stop and chiming twice as the door swept open to reveal a plain beige hallway, industrial-grade Berber carpet, matte beige walls, and a bra.s.s plaque listing all the suite numbers for the floor, fitted onto the wall directly across from us.

"This doesn't look right," Frank said, furrowing his brow uncertainly.

I ignored him, stepping out of the elevator and walking over to the bra.s.s plaque to get a better look at the suite numbers engraved on it. There were five of them for my perusal-372, 373, 374, 375, and 376-but I was only concerned with the last one.

"Nope, this is the place," I said, starting down the hallway toward Suite 376.

I didn't care if Frank was following me or not. Actually, I was hoping he'd take the hint and go away, because my tolerance for the guy was quickly hitting an all-time low. I couldn't believe I'd let the schmuck anywhere near me; just thinking about those double-crossing fingers running up and down the length of my body made me furious.

Setting his hesitancy aside, Frank chased after me, our feet making swishing sounds on the Berber carpeting as we walked. Each doorway we pa.s.sed was identical to the next: all pale brown doors, bra.s.s doork.n.o.bs, and suite numbers engraved on bra.s.s wedges affixed to the doorframe. I liked the blandness of the hallway, the sameness of door and doork.n.o.b.

It was comforting.

"This is it," I said, stopping in front of Suite 376.

I rested my fist on the face of the door, but didn't knock.

"What're we waiting for?" Frank asked.

I opened my mouth to tell him that he he should do the knocking, but a gaseous, foul-smelling belch escaped my lips instead. should do the knocking, but a gaseous, foul-smelling belch escaped my lips instead.

"Oh, Callie, honey," Frank said, covering his nose, "that is disgusting."

I leaned my forehead against the door and shrugged.

"You know how it is," I replied. "When you're dying from the inside out, things can get kind of stinky."

Undone by the ferocity of that last belch, I lifted my fist and knocked feebly on the door.

As if Evangeline had been waiting there antic.i.p.ating our arrival, the door flew open and I found myself shoved against the far wall, my head slamming into the opposite doorframe. But Evangeline didn't wait for my body to hit the floor before she attacked again. This time, to her own misfortune, she chose to ram her bald pate into my gut, thus releasing another hideous belch from my diseased stomach.

She may have antic.i.p.ated our arrival, but no way in h.e.l.l did she expect that belch. Gagging, she turned away from me, surprise and disgust etched on her face.

"You're sick," Evangeline screeched, pinching her nostrils together to ward off the smell.

"Yes, I am," I said. "And this is Frank."

Frank took the hint, slamming his fist into the side of Evangeline's neck. She made a grotesque gurgling sound deep in her gullet then dropped to her knees, clutching her throat. Seizing the opportunity that had presented itself to him, he slammed his ample fist into the back of her head. I heard a tiny pop pop and then Evangeline went down face-first, her gla.s.sy eyes staring up at nothing. and then Evangeline went down face-first, her gla.s.sy eyes staring up at nothing.

I normally didn't condone murder, but I decided that Evangeline had had it coming.

Of course, the b.i.t.c.h chose that moment to blink, dashing my hopes for a quick end to my sister's henchwoman. Still, I knew she was too incapacitated to be much of a threat to anyone anymore-and that was good enough for me.

"After you," Frank said, gesturing to Evangeline's p.r.o.ne body.

I did as instructed, using her back as a stepping-stone, and crossed the threshold into the suite that had once been my dad's office.

It was almost too easy.

I flipped on the overhead light, adding to the meager glow coming from the desk lamp, and found Clio trussed up on a brown leather sofa, her hands and feet bound with twine, a leather gag in her mouth. I saw the purple bruising around her eye and the split lower lip, and I was reminded of my father's last few moments on this earth-and the rage in Clio's eyes as she had watched him die.

Beside her, my mother sat similarly bound, her once beautiful face slack in the harsh fluorescent light. At first, I thought she was dead because her eyes were so dull and lifeless, but then they welled up with tears and I understood that she was very much alive, just locked inside the terrible grief she was experiencing. I could imagine what she was going through-and I knew the shock alone would be enough to drive anyone a little insane.

"Help me untie them-" I yelled at Frank, but stopped, the words frozen in my mouth when I saw two Bugbear guards waiting behind the office door. I instinctively threw myself down on the floor, out of the way of the punishing violet light emanating from the creatures' eyes.

But Frank wasn't so lucky.

Hit with a direct blast, he fell to the floor and started convulsing, his arms and legs twitching as both Bugbears focused their energy on him. Something I'd noticed during my last two run-ins with the Bugbears was that their laser beam eyes seemed to work best on corporeal flesh, not on inanimate objects-which had given me an idea of a way to protect myself. With the Bugbears otherwise engaged, I started crawling toward my dad's polished brown oak desk.

"Come on, you p.r.i.c.ks!" I screamed, trying to draw their eyes as I crouched underneath a large, rectangular plate gla.s.s window. "I'm over here!"

Immediately Frank was forgotten in favor of me, the moving target. I crawled as fast as my hands and knees would carry me, sliding toward the safety of the other side of the desk just as the Bugbears unleashed their precision laserlike beams of light. The spot where I'd crouched only seconds before sizzled under their gaze, then the violet light faded as they realized I wasn't there. They moved to readjust their trajectory, but by then I was safely ensconced behind the thick wooden desk and completely out of their reach.

I would've given myself a pat on the back for my quick thinking, but my plan pretty much ended there. I'd bought myself a modic.u.m of safety, but that wouldn't last very long once the Bugbears realized they could descend on me together and I'd be ripe for the picking. I racked my brain, trying to think of anything I could do to waylay them, but I was at a loss.

Struck with what we'll call Divine Inspiration, I started ripping the desk drawers out of their cubbies, digging around in each one, looking for some weapon I could use against the Bugbears. Drawer after drawer, there was nothing but papers. Finally, in the last drawer, I chanced upon a stapler and a red blown-gla.s.s paperweight.

"They're coming, Callie!" Clio screamed, having managed to worm her way out of her gag.

I grabbed the paperweight, hefting its bulk in my hand. Maybe I could throw it at one of the Bugbears, and if my aim was good, I could knock it out- Oh, who am I kidding? I thought miserably. I thought miserably.

I was a softball dropout who couldn't hit a garbage can with a crumpled wad of paper. It looked like the jig was up; I'd been outnumbered and outgunned and the best course of action was to just hold up the white flag of surrender (in this case it was a red paperweight of surrender) and hope the promethium killed me before my sister Thalia did.

I took a deep breath and raised the hand holding the paperweight up in the air. Suddenly, my arm was enveloped in a red-hot poker of pain as the Bugbears directed their laser eyes at my exposed appendage. I screamed and I dropped the smoking paperweight onto the desktop, my fingers sizzling as I pulled them back protectively to my chest. I heard a loud crunch crunch behind me, and I quickly scuttled around to the other side of the desk, stifling another scream when I found myself face-to-face with a dead Bugbear, its eyes black cinders in an otherwise untouched face. I reeled away from the dead body, crawling backward until I was in the safe zone again, then I reached up onto the desk, scrambling for the paperweight-but it was gone. behind me, and I quickly scuttled around to the other side of the desk, stifling another scream when I found myself face-to-face with a dead Bugbear, its eyes black cinders in an otherwise untouched face. I reeled away from the dead body, crawling backward until I was in the safe zone again, then I reached up onto the desk, scrambling for the paperweight-but it was gone.

"Clio," I yelled, my voice hoa.r.s.e from screaming. "Do you see the paperweight? Where did I drop it?"

"It's right here," she said, her voice so close, I could've sworn she was right beside me, and when I looked up I found my baby sister standing over me, paperweight clutched tightly in her hand. "You got them both in one shot, Cal, when their laser eyes reflected off of the paperweight!"

Instantly, I was on my feet, wrapping Clio in a giant bear hug.

"But who untied you?" I said, squeezing her scrawny frame tightly in my arms.

"The Bugbears spelled our bindings," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "They just fell off once you killed them."

I released her and stared down at my dastardly handiwork, my heart slamming nervously inside me. I looked around, half expecting a few Harvesters to show up with condemning countenances, b.u.t.terfly nets unfurled as they made ready to disparage me for committing two more murders. Yet after a few minutes when no one had arrived to collect the souls of the dead, I decided to proceed as if the Bugbears had committed suicide (which they had, kind of kind of) and chalked the whole thing up to blind luck.

Still, the joke about Death being the worst ma.s.s murderer in history, well, it wasn't really a joke. All you had to do was look around at the legacy left there in that office by one Death, a little luck, and a paperweight.

twenty-seven.

"Who's that?" Clio asked, her gaze fixed on Frank, who lay unconscious in the middle of the floor, his hair and muttonchops singed by the direct contact he'd had with the Bugbears' powerful laser eyes. His face appeared innocent and peaceful in repose, but I knew it was all a front, that underneath the handsome exterior lurked the soul of a snake.

"That," I said, pointing at Frank, "is a son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"Whatever you say, Cal," Clio replied, looking dubiously at the handsome stranger.

"He's another wannabe Death like me and Daniel," I continued. "And he's super bad news."

"We should tie him up," Clio said, grabbing a lamp from a side table. "Use the power cord to bind his hands."

It was nice to have Clio in my orbit again. Her brain moved much faster than mine, meaning she could figure out the solution to a problem in record time-she was great to have around in the middle of a crisis situation.

At Clio's suggestion, I dragged an expensive metal standing lamp over to where Frank lay p.r.o.ne on the ground and used the cord to tie up his feet. It wasn't perfect, but between my handiwork and Clio's, we got Frank's lanky body secured.

Our next order of business was to figure out what to do with our mother. She hadn't moved from her spot on the couch since I'd killed the Bugbears, and it didn't look like she was going to be coming back to reality anytime soon. I debated leaving her where she was but quickly discarded that notion, not trusting that Frank wouldn't find his way out of his bindings and hurt her.