[Lord Stanley]

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Emperor Essir sat behind a large desk made of what looked to be a conglomerate of metal, plastic, and sloggie poop. The room stretched back nearly fifty feet before reaching a wall covered with portraits—numerous artists’ impressions of Essir wearing debonair expressions. The carpet was still paisley-patterned, but somehow the lack of windows in such a large room made even the carpet seem sinister.

Abe glanced quickly around the corners of the room, noticing all the basics. One emperor. One secretary. Six guards. Two security cameras. No windows. No air vents. No freestanding weapons.

One of the Vamp guards jerked his gun toward the prisoners. “They caused a disturbance in the prison—it seems they somehow cut a slice out of their cell wall.”

Essir looked at the four prisoners and shook his head. “It’s only been a day…”

Abe spat on the carpet. “Twenty-four hours is a million years when it’s your damn prison.”

Essir raised the skin above his eye. “It seems you outsiders cannot keep out of trouble, even in my luxurious prison.”

“We’d rather cause trouble than sit and rot in your butthole of a prison,” Crak snorted.

Abe grinned at the older Slig’s audacity. Essir’s mouth twitched downward. “You know I could—and will—kill you.”

Cloud stepped forward. “Why don’t you get it over with, you F-ing cat!”

Crak, Oner, and Abe grinned wider at Cloud’s In-Your-Face cuss, but Essir looked confused. “What’s a cat?”

The emperor shook his head, leaning forward across his desk. “No, it doesn’t matter. I’m trying to think of what would be the best possible way to kill you…in a way that would be slow…very slow…”

Abe snorted. “We’re your contact with the world outside your empire. You won’t kill us all.”

Essir smiled. “Try me.”

The secretary suddenly gave an exclamation of surprise. Abe, Crak, Cloud, Oner, and Essir turned to look at her. “What the Odd is the matter?” the emperor growled. “You’re interrupting.”

She pointed at a small device on her desk, which seemed to be the more organic-looking equivalent to a Glukkon printer. “It’s printing all by itself, my lord! The mind-link isn’t activated—someone is controlling my editorum!”

Essir made a sharp hand gesture. “Silence, Quessir. It can’t be anything more than a bug with the program.”

The secretary leaned over her editorum, face drawn. “But—but it’s writing in full punctuation—in a language I've never seen before!”

Abe and Oner exchanged a bewildered glance. “Horror movie in motion?” Oner asked.

Abe shrugged. Essir rose from his chair to his impressive full height, extending a hand to Quessir. “Bring me the paper.”

Tentatively, the secretary reached forward, picking up the printed paper at the corner with two fingers. She quickly moved to her emperor and placed it in his palm.

Essir turned the paper and began reading silently. Oner stood on tiptoe, trying to read through the back of the paper. “Aww, can’t we see?”

The emperor lowered the paper, looking the never-serious Slig deep in the eye. Oner stared right back with all the tenacity of a retarded Clakker. “Actually,” Essir said thoughtfully, “perhaps you could tell me what this means.”

Abe felt a tight clench in his gut, as the Vamp emperor moved toward him, extending the paper.

“You, blue one,” Essir said. “You seem to be the leader of this soulless gaggle. Tell me what this paper means—it is not written in our language.”

Abe looked at the paper, trying to remember how to read. It had been a long time since he had read anything other than Glukkon directories in soon-to-be-destroyed factories, but this computer-typed writing was clear and bold and projected a clear message that made Abe’s insides twist through his iron stomach.

Abe, the Vamps should never have tried to meddle in this affair. This is between the forces of light and darkness. Tell them to release you, or they will all be destroyed without mercy, without hope.

The Bringer of Pain