Chapter 125: Earlier

NYC, 19 Hours Earlier

Becca lounged in the armchair she’d dragged out of home furnishings into the center of the abandoned mall’s plaza. The power was out, but late dusk light filtered in through the skylights high above. Her Bushmaster lay across her lap, glossy black and gleaming. With one hand she brushed the tip of her braid over her lips; with the other she thumbed the safety on and off.

Before her stood the demon.

Tall, elegant, refined, it regarded her with an alien expression somewhere between amused and enigmatic. Twin horns poked out of his mane of black hair, and his suit was impeccable. The bastard could have starred on the cover of any number of billionaire romance novels, all chisel-cut and hard-edged. But its eyes. Those lizard-like, variegated eyes, striated yellow against rich green and blue.

Alien, demonic eyes.

“You said this would be simple.” Her voice echoed in the still fastness of the atrium. “Yet somehow I don’t see how we can stop James and his fucking crew if they’re all god-level.”

It’s a challenge, to be sure. The Nem4’s voice was oily and smooth. But first and foremost, you’ve bought yourself time. Had you not struck this deal, you would have faced my elder brothers in quick succession. I assure you that wouldn’t have been pleasant.

Becca sneered. “You think I’m scared of dying?”

The demon considered her. No. I guess not. Which makes you all the more remarkable of an ally.

“I agreed to your bullshit offer because you promised me vengeance. So.” Becca sat up. “Let’s talk. How you going to deliver?”

I can enable. First and foremost, I can put you in touch with everyone else who struck a similar devil’s bargain. He smiled, amused. Some are quite highly placed within the government and military.

“Oh yeah? What government and military? I thought you guys had just about finished wiping out most of humanity.”

True. Your species has suffered astonishing losses. Then again, it wasn’t my brothers and I that chose to escalate matters.

“And he complained that Bjørn wanted to rule things like some medieval king.” Becca sneered again.

Only to go and unilaterally make decisions for all humanity. Decisions that resulted in 89% of your species’ death.

“Don’t pander to me. So you can connect me with other traitors. How’s that going to help?”

Not traitors, Becca. Survivors. If I may bend your ear for but a minute?

“What is it about men? Can’t you just answer questions without giving a speech?”

You have thrown in with my kind. Thus I may be frank with you. Your species has no chance of surviving the Pits. Oh, James and his Crimson Hydra will have little difficulty clearing the first nine levels, but it will only grow more challenging from then on. By the time he reaches the 18th floor he will be slouching fitfully toward Bethlehem, and the 20th floor he will be reduced to a crawl.

Becca narrowed her eyes.

And this is as it should be. The Pits, you see, are a winnowing process. Just as the Gauntlet was. Nothing has changed but the difficulty. We have no interest in 99.9% of your kind. Only the very best, those with the will to do what is required to survive. It’s possible James will reach the last level, but he is going about it the hardest way possible. You and others like you with the wits and savviness to join forces with us shall be rolled out a red carpet right to the bottom.

“And what awaits us down there?”

The demon smiled, revealing fangs. You have to see it to believe it. But I will say this: it is not death, nor a transfiguration that shall make you unrecognizable to yourself. Becca Locklear shall descend, and it is as Becca Locklear that you shall emerge. The process, however, shall prepare you.

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“What process?” Becca leaned forward. “Talk specifics.”

The process of gaining power. Of becoming… more. James and his friends benefited from illegally acquired Reservoir Cubes. But whom do you think has a monopoly on such?

The demon extended his hand and unfurled its fingers. Sitting in his palm was a small cube that glowed with an exquisite white light.

Becca tried to say something dismissive but her throat was dry. She forced a swallow then tore her gaze away from the cube. “What the fuck’s that?”

The key to greatness, Becca. That which made James a god. He and his acquired ten. But my kind? We possess the thousands that remain.

“And… you’re just going to give it to me?” Her heart was pounding now.

Are you not our finest ally? Does your heart not burn with the richest of most hateful flames? You desire vengeance, do you not?

“Vengeance,” whispered Becca, staring at the cube.

“The vengeance you shall have.”

Becca startled and sat back. The demon had changed. Vanished. In his place stood Bjørn, hirsute and gorgeous, tall and confidence. He wore the same suit as the demon, but was otherwise as she dreamt him, his smile the same shit-eating and provocative grin.

“Bjørn?”

“I could be.”

Becca blinked and pressed the base of her palm to her temple. “Stop. Right now. Get the fuck out of that shape before I blow your head off.”

As you wish. The demon was itself once more. I merely illustrate the possibilities open to you now. You need never be alone again, Becca. With this cube you shall command respect. Will lead an army of hard-headed survivors who understand who this bitter world works. Here. Take it. Absorb it, and inherit your kingdom.

Becca stood and approached the demon. It’s hand didn’t waver. With utmost care she plucked the cube free and stepped back.

You have acquired a Reservoir Cube.

Absorb?

Becca licked her lips. She studied the demon, but he was as inscrutable as before.

“All right,” she whispered. “Let’s see what this can do.”

And she accepted the offer.

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