“Thank you, my Lord,” Saul said.

“Lord,” Letho scoffed.

“And you, Letho, will you join us? I could use a man of your talents.”

Letho scowled.

Abraxas shrugged. “Your friends are marching on the temple as we speak. It is likely that they will all perish in the conflict. But you have the power right now to save them from this terrible fate. Their names are… Maka and Bayorn, Ibelieve?” He smiled at the look of recognition on Letho’s face. “Yes, I see that I am right. Right about now, they are facing off with my good friend, Crimson Jim.”

No. How?

“Jim?” Thresha interjected. “He’s… alive?”

“In a sense, my dear. So sorry I forgot to tell you. He has taken Cantus Wheatley’s place as the new Jolly Roger.” You’ve all seen the devastating power of this being. Surely, Letho, you would want to save your friends from such a horrible fate. Swear fealty to Abraxas, and he will stop his attack.”

“I already told you, Mendraga. I have no more words for you,” Letho growled.

“Such lovely Tarsi-speak. In all my years I have never heard it produced so accurately by a human voice,” Abraxas said. “You are truly remarkable, Letho. Think carefully now, for your friends’ lives are in your hands.”

Letho felt Abraxas’s vile presence inside his head, felt his claws rifling through his thoughts and memories.

“Your dear friend Deacon. And Thresha? Ah yes, you are quite fond of her, aren’t you? You could spend the rest of your life with her. You could become one of us, and join her in eternity. Claim her! She is your prize.”

“Don’t listen to him, Letho,” Thresha cried.

“Silence, girl!” Abraxas shouted.

“Get out of my head, Abraxas,” Letho said.

“Perhaps we could reverse her condition—make her human again. The two of you could raise a family. Help us rebuild this world. All you have to do is swear allegiance to me.”

“No,” Letho said with a sneer.

“How dare you!” Alastor shouted. “Whelp, how dare you speak to our lord with such insolence?” But Abraxas waved him off.

“We are not the monsters you imagine us to be, Letho. In the end, we want what you want. To live, to flourish, to know peace. This is something that Eursans and Tarsi alike have denied us for millennia. I will concede that our methods of feeding and reproducing are… unique to our species, but are we so different in our ultimate aims? There must be some sort of accord that we could reach.”

Letho shook his head. No more words.

“I could tell you things you wouldn’t believe, Letho. My eyes have seen the comings and goings of many races over the vast expanse of time. I can tell you about the Tarsi, and the connection between our three races. Then you might see that we are not so different as you believe.”

Alastor turned to his master. “While we are on the subject of past occurrences, Lord Abraxas, I have something for you.” He withdrew Saladin from behind his back with a flourish, and Letho felt his stomach turn.

No. He is mine.

“I bring to you a gift I thought lost to us when this young man invaded our ship so long ago. May I present Saladin: Officer’s Tactical Package TM, a fitting blade to hang at your side.”

Alastor knelt and presented the blade to his master. Abraxas accepted it.

And Letho saw his opportunity.

Abraxas held the sword at eye level and pulled it a few inches from the scabbard, observing the flawless metal. The lead inlays began to blink a warning in red, but Abraxas paid no heed. “A noble gift. Thank you, Alastor,” he said.

Saladin, initiate anti-theft protocol.

A high-pitched whine filled the air. All present felt a surge of energy, and the hairs on their arms and necks stood at attention. Great blue gouts of electric current fractured the air. Abraxas’s body began to shudder, wracked with currents of energy. Saladin clattered to the floor.

Letho summoned strength from the great well within him and pulled his hands forward, against the manacles that held him. He gritted his teeth as the bones in his hands and wrists compressed, and his own flesh scraped against the carbon-steel and was torn from his hands and wrists. The pain was exruciating, but just a moment, and then it was over: his hands were free.

Sir, an incoming message from Deacon, Saladin said inside Letho’s mind. Saladin routed the video feed directly into his brain, and Letho’s stomach curdled at the sight of the new Jolly Roger. He saw Bayorn, Maka, and a bunch of humans and hammerheads taking cover from the fire, saw the mutants hot on their tails.

It’ll set off a pretty spectacular chain reaction, all the way down the line, down the middle of Main Street and right up Alastor’s ass.

The detonator. He really didn’t have any idea where the gas lines were; for all he knew they could be right under his friends now, and flipping the switch on Johnny’s detonator could immolate friend and enemy alike. But doing nothing wasn’t an option either: there were just too many of the mutants—not to mention the Jolly Roger and his twin chain-guns. His friends needed help.

Letho made a choice. Before anyone could react, he reached into his boot and removed Johnny’s detonator. He flicked off the oh-shit guard and activated the device. Then he waited to see what it would do.

Outside, a rumble of hellfire rose in the distance, followed by the sound of a rolling explosion. No, a series of explosions. The chain reaction Johnny had promised. The floor shook and listed beneath them, and the walls began to tilt and crack. Letho could hear the sound of marble ceilings meeting marble floors. Chaos erupted around them; the entire building shook, throwing people and furniture around alike, but it did not fall.

Johnny Zip’s surprise had worked to perfection.

Taking advantage of the sudden chaos, Letho blurred across the expanse between himself and Abraxas. He grabbed the sword from the floor with one hand and grabbed Abraxas by the neck with the other. Then, pulling Abraxas’s face close to his own, he plunged the sword deep into Abraxas’s chest.

Letho gazed into the creature’s ageless eyes, their noses almost touching. He snarled as he continued to push the blade home, forcing it upward and inward. And then Thresha was behind him, blurring in a speed that rivaled Letho’s own, sinking a dagger deep into Abraxas’s neck and severing his spinal cord.

Letho spun as he withdrew the sword from Abraxas’s chest, painting the walls with the spray of a god’s blood.

Even as his body went limp and ichor gushed from his chest and neck, Abraxas’s mind pushed outward with one final thrust, a mental explosion of godly proportions. To Letho, it felt like an invisible fist had slammed into him, flinging him across the room.

His back smashed against the wall, the panels behind him cracking from the impact, and he found himself pinned there. As he felt the constriction of Abraxas’s hideous power wrapping around his neck, choking him, he was dimly aware that Thresha was pinned as well and struggled beside him.

Alastor, however, was unaffected. As Letho and Thresha fought to extract themselves from the grip of an invisible hand, Alastor scooped up Abraxas’s limp body from the ground.

Alastor turned to Saul, his eyes wide. “You must kill him, or die in the attempt. Return to me triumphant or do not return at all! The fate of Haven hangs in the balance!” Then he threw the body of his master over his shoulder, rivers of ichor further darkening the obsidian leather of his cloak, and disappeared through a doorway behind Abraxas’s ornate chair.

Immediately, the force pinning Letho and Thresha in place dissipated, and they rushed forward, their blades bloodied and ready to spill more.

Everything was moving quickly now. One of the Mendraga guards snapped out of his stupor and began to fire at Thresha, who spun to face him and his cohorts, unleashing a series of sharp kicks that brought them to their knees. She grabbed one of the soldiers by his head, lifted him into the air, and swung his body; his neck snapped. Then she sent him bowling into the other Mendraga with enough force to shatter their ribs and spines.