Evil - Chapter 21
The door opened, and we stepped into the scent of roses
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.
It's not easy being the Antichrist.
Anjelica’s mother never told her that she was a demon. Now, all she wants is her old life back, but that’s not possible for her. Not after what she’s seen.
Anjelica used to be a popular cheerleader with an awesome life, but that was before an evil cult of demons tried to use her blood to open a portal to Hell and start the Apocalypse.
She was rescued from that fate, barely, and because of the imminent threat to her life, her saviors ripped her from Los Angeles and brought her to a safe house in the middle of nowhere.
They said it was for her own good, but she would rather be dead than stuck in boring, old Bronard, Missouri. She was from the big city, so a sleepy, rural life wasn’t for her.
She longed for excitement.
So, when she met a young witch with a mysterious past who promised to show her everything she knew about opening portals and traveling between distant lands, they bonded immediately
I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?
It’s not like they would open an intergalactic gateway to another planet and get thrown into a brand, new world with no way to get back to Earth, right?
Join Anjelica in her own solo adventure and find out what happened to her immediately after the events in Magic.
—or floated if I had learned anything from Madam Fantasmo—in the opulent hall, lined with golden candle sconces and massive paintings of the poshest people I could imagine. A crystal chandelier hung twenty feet above us, with hundreds of candle lights in each of its gilded arms.
Madam Fantasmo motioned me forward down the purple hallway, where we passed several suits of polished armor and small marble tables holding weaponry of all types.
“These are some of our most treasured valuables in the whole kingdom,” she explained. “Each weapon represents a country that has surrendered to us, and the suits of armor represent one of our generals fallen in combat for the glorious cause of building our nation.”
“It’s beautiful,” I replied. “I’m truly overwhelmed.”
Madam Fantasmo smiled. “Good. Keep your sentences full of reverence, just like that, when it comes to the king, and deferential. Anything you can do to pay him a compliment will greatly help your case.” She sighed. “I should tell you before we enter that your fears about being hanged are not unfounded. Many earworms in the court want you to be used as an example of the king’s great power, to show that even a powerful witch is nothing to him.” She squeezed my hand. “You must be extra charming and incredibly cunning if you wish to survive. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “I do, but I’m neither of those things. I’m just a girl from Los Angeles who ended up in Missouri.”
“I don’t know what any of that means, but, girl from Los Angeles, today you must be grander than you have ever known and braver than you ever believed. Can you do that?”
“I—don’t know.” I squeezed her hand back. “But I will try. I really don’t want to die.”
“That’s a good start.” We stopped in front of a two-story-high golden door. She tipped my chin high into the air with her index finger. “Keep your chin up, curtsey, and bow low, but never lose eye contact with his highness, and whatever you do, don’t trip.”
Why did people say that? Don’t trip. It was the kiss of death. Now, all I was thinking about was how my feet moved, and to keep them—breathe Anjelica. Breathe. The doors opened, and violin music filled my ears. Hundreds of eyes looked at us as we walked down the purple carpet into the next room.
Courtiers, dozens of them, all dressed in the most idiotic and over-the-top costumes I had ever seen, lined both sides of the carpet. The men had the same powdered faces and frilly frocks as the women, and their wigs were just as high as Madam Fantasmo’s. All of them looked at me with contempt. I had never had so much scorn leveled at me at once, and I had been a cheerleader for years, enduring hatred from opposing teams and fans for a long time. This was way worse.
The music changed from a violin to a piano, and Madam Fantasmo stepped in time with the tune. I let her lead the way. The people muttered to each other on our way to the golden throne, sitting high above the rest of the room. Purple drapes hung on either side, one inlaid with a dragon and the other with a tiger, and between them, on the throne, was a bearded man, grey-haired and wrinkled, but still handsome, wearing a rose gold crown encrusted with emeralds and amethyst around its base, and clasping a scepter in his hand with a globe of crystals sitting atop of it.
His skin was darker than the others in court, and he was the only one who wore no make-up. His black eyes dug into me like coal burning through my defenses. On either side of him, garish soldiers wearing checkered shirts of every color and newsboy hats held their lances high in the air. As we approached, they lowered their lances to form a cross in front of the king.
“My good King Ulthar,” Madam Fantasmo said, curtseying and bowing in the exact manner she’d instructed me. “May I present to you, the traveler, Anjelica Caldwell.” That wasn’t my last name. “She humbly prostrates herself before you, for your judgment.”
King Ulthar cleared his throat, and all chatter stopped. “I must admit, Madam Fantasmo, that you taking an interest in this case gives me pause. You have always been a great friend to this court, yet this girl has been cast as a devious fiend. I was ready to order her execution on sight, and many in this court have wished as much of me. However, you do not. Why do you support this girl and risk your standing in the court?”
Risk her standing? Why would she do that for me?
Madam Fantasmo pursed her lips. “Of all your amazing qualities, my liege, the one I have always respected the most is your desire for justice to everyone in your kingdom. Your justice is swift and final, but I believe you have always delivered it to friends and enemies alike. It is in that spirit that I gravitated toward this young girl—and that is what she is, nothing but a young girl—who would still be in school had she grown up in our kingdom. I heard the outcries for her head from others in court, and they fell sour on my ears. That is not justice, my king.” She swallowed. “And you are a just lord. I throw my support behind her because I know that it carries weight when I do so, and power is nothing if not wielded for justice.” She bowed to the king again. “I would ask that you listen to her with an open heart and an open mind, but I know you will do so anyway because you are a good king.”
“Well spoken,” King Ulthar said, beckoning me forward. “Very well, girl, come forward.”
I stepped forward slowly, trying desperately not to trip. I bowed low, careful never to break eye contact with him, and then I stood. “Thank you, King Ulthar. Madam Fantasmo speaks very highly of you.”
“And I of her. I must be honest, though, that I believe she has chosen wrong in this case. Many in this court have already made their mind up about you. So, tell me, witch, why are they wrong?”
I swallowed. “First, I am not a witch. I don’t know what brings me to your shores, but it is not witchcraft. At least, not any performed by me.”
“Then what brings you here, girl?”
“Friendship.” I looked down at the floor, trying to regain my courage, and then back up at the king. “I did not have to save your daughter, my king. I did so because I care about her. I did so because she showed kindness to me and because she was in trouble. That I am accused of witchcraft, that I would be sentenced to death because of a good deed, is not justice. You would not have your daughter back if I had not stepped in, and she would be dead at the hand of the same villain you found murdered in that coffee shop.”
“Was this murder carried out by your hand?”
“No,” I replied.
“Do you condone it?”
I will not lie. “Yes, I do. He threatened me, and he threatened my friend.”
A flurry of noise erupted in the court, and while I couldn’t discern every word, those that I did were not things one should say in polite company.
The king ignored the commotion, staring intently at me. “The person whose murder you callously condoned was my first cavalier and brother, who has been lost to us for as long as my daughter. He was her champion, and if you tell me that my own blood would try to kill my flesh, I do not believe it.”
“Well, you don’t have to believe it for it to be the truth.”
“In this kingdom,” the king grumbled, “what I believe is the truth.” His lips went up in a sneer. “I sentence you to death for your crimes against the crown. May your death be a lesson to those who fight against my will.” He turned to Madam Fantasmo. “And you will join her for conspiring against me.”
“My king, that—” But before she could say anything, guards flooded into the room and grabbed us both, dragging us out of the room to the great cries of joy from the assembled crowd.
“My king!” Madam Fantasmo screamed, kicking and squirming in her struggle against the guards. “Please! This isn’t justice!”
We were to be put to death, just as I feared, and I would look a fool doing it. I hoped they at least let me change my clothes before they lopped off my head.
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.