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“Enough,” Zora bellows, using tendrils of lightning from her hands to wrap around our bodies and fling us apart.
Maddox slams into a large boulder from which chunks of rock explode, and I turn another tree into toothpicks. While he capitulates by holding his hands up in surrender, I lunge forward only to have Zora’s lightning lasso throw me back on my ass.
“I saidenough,” she growls.
But it’s not sufficient to dissuade me. I’m poised to attack as soon as she lets me out of these magical shackles.
Instead, she says, “Be gone, Amell.”
Before I can protest, I’m back in the Underworld, still sitting on my ass at the base of my throne on the Bridge of Judgment, the Crimson River churning two hundred feet below.
“Your Highness.” Calix rushes over, reaching a hand out to help me up.
I swat it away in irritation as I jump to my feet. Calix backs up and bends in a low bow, bobbing repetitively until I acknowledge him.
“Stop doing that,” I growl.
“Of course, Your Elaborate Marvelousness.” Calix straightens and looks at me with hopeful eyes. He’s a short man, no more than five four with curly blond hair, a broad nose, and thin lips.
He’s a weasel of an assistant, inherited from the former queen and mine to use as long as I want to keep him around. He was a weasel of a man back in the First Dimension, a minor lackey under a corrupt Roman senator in the year 748BCE. While the senator he worked for received a one-way ticket to the Crimson River upon his death, Calix was kept by Queen Kymaris to serve her needs.
“Stop calling me those stupid names.”
Calix bobs his head. “Of course, Your—”
I hold up a hand to stop him.
Old habits die hard. Kymaris loved the lavish praise and idiotic names he bestowed upon her, but getting him to just call me Amell has been trying my patience.
“I’ve got a job for you.” I ponder exactly how I want to do this. “I’ll need to take your body for a bit.”
“But—”
I touch Calix on the wrist and his body disappears.
He’s not gone, though.
His soul remains, a writhing ball of blackened smoke tendrils hovering before me.
Calix can hear me, but without the mechanics of a voice box that comes with a body, he can’t speak. I kind of like him this way.
“I want you to find the demigod Maddox.” The smoke rolls over on itself, expands and pulses. I take it to be excitement to serve. “Make his life hell for a few days.”
The smoke contracts, coalescing and darkening.
Needing clarification.
“Do poltergeist shit,” I mutter with a wave of my hand. “Knock stuff over, turn his lights on and off, whatever.”
While Calix doesn’t have a physical body, he is a ball of supernatural energy, an unencumbered soul with free rein to cause havoc if I so grant it.
I instruct Calix where to go. Maddox is living in Southern California near his other demigod brother, Carrick, and his wife Finley.
Who happens to be Zora’s twin, but a redhead.
It’s a tangled web.
Ripping a hole in the veil with nothing more than a magical thought—such are the powers Zora bestowed when she sat me on the throne—I usher Calix through. I’ll snatch him back after a few days of driving Maddox crazy, thus ensuring me the last, if not pettiest, laugh.
