All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [48]
Aaron nodded. “Give me twenty like that.”
Robert punched as he spoke: “They passed the placement tests. They’re both on Team Scarab—the same team I’m on. There’s also that Amanda Lane girl on the team. Two from the Clan Covington. One from the Stephenson family. And”—he punched so hard that the bag swung wildly and he had to duck as it came back at him—“an Infernal protégée. A girl called Jezebel.”
“Kino is not the only one who moves fast,” Aaron said.
“It is nothing unexpected,” Mr. Mimes said.
Aaron pushed the punching bag as it swung back—accelerating it to a blur before Robert could react.
It slammed into his face—followed a dizzying moment later by the floor hitting Robert’s face as well.
Aaron came over and helped him up, lifting his chin and looking into his dazed eyes. “Should have broken his nose,” he told Mr. Mimes. “The Soma appears to be taking.”
Robert shrugged off Aaron’s hands—got angry for a split second . . . and then cooled down. Getting mad at Aaron, you might as well get angry at a mountain for all the good it would do.
Robert touched his face. It stung, but there was nothing broken. Taking a blow that hard, he should at least have squirted some blood.
“Tell me more about the Infernal,” Mr. Mimes said. He had a new glass in his hand, this one with a straw and something that looked like cola inside. He held it out for Robert to sip.
Robert reached for it, but realized he still had on the boxing gloves, so he used the proffered straw.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t cola. It was liquid fire and curlicues of multicolored smoke that blasted through his thoughts. It was velvet and honey and a thousand open flowers . . . and sulfur, too, like someone had lit a match under his nose.
Robert exhaled, felt bubbles popping, and the sensations faded.
He’d had this stuff before. Mr. Mimes gave him some when he’d been sprung from that Immortal prison cell.
Was that was Aaron was talking about? What did he call it? Soma? He’d said “the Soma appears to be taking.”15
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Mimes said, noting the quizzical look on Robert’s face. “I took the liberty of stocking the refrigerator with a few bottles of this for you. It will do you worlds of good. Now, the Infernal? What did you call her? Jezebel?”
“She’s pretty, like you’d expect,” Robert said. “Drop-dead pretty, in fact. She had titles . . . Protector of the Burning Orchards, Handmaiden to the Mistress of Pain. Gave me the serious creeps.”
“Sealiah’s minion,” Aaron said. “There will be subterfuge as well as blood.”
“Don’t sound disappointed,” Mr. Mimes said. “The snakes in the grass will make themselves known soon enough—then you can cut off their heads.”
“I don’t understand how you know who this Jezebel even is,” Robert said. “She could be any Infernal.”
Mr. Mimes cocked one eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well,” Robert said, “Lucifer—what did you call it—he ‘cloned’ me last summer. Made himself look like me to trap Fiona in that Valley of the New Year. Infernals can look like anyone they want to, right?”
“No,” Aaron said as he pulled on boxing gloves. “Most have only the humanoid and combat forms.”
“To be precise,” Mr. Mimes added, “only two Infernals could ever shift their shape like that: Lucifer and the great Satan. The latter is long departed, his bones dust. And I doubt this Jezebel is Louis in disguise. Even he wouldn’t be able to fool the Headmistress and certainly not Paxington’s eagle-eyed Gatekeeper.”
Robert agreed. That Gatekeeper was an Immortal. Harlan Dells had that look of righteous condescension and unquestionable superiority. It was interesting, though, that he wasn’t in the League . . . or that there could even be Immortals outside the League’s control.
Aaron approached. He wore boxing gloves now and had his hands up.
“You have got to be kidding,” Robert said.
“I don’t ‘kid’ when it comes to combat,” Aaron said. “Defend yourself.”
He jabbed Robert. It was bullet fast.
Robert sidestepped and swatted the fist away at the absolute last split second. It felt like a steel piston, and would’ve taken off his head if it had connected.
“Hey!