Page 104 of The Hive Queen

Looks like we have a change in plans. There will be no resting today.

I look back at them. “What can we do?”

“There’s a court meeting that Lord Talkis will be at in a few hours,” she says. “Lord Marius can get a speaking spot for me and Sharpe.”

She turns to Sharpe. “As the Captain of the JTFPI, you may be able to demand Darius’s release since he’s the only being who has defeated the Hive Queen before. She represents a catastrophic threat to our world, and it was their jail she escaped from.”

Sharpe nods. “I’ll do my best.”

“We can’t rely on them agreeing, especially not on our timeline,” Marc protests. “They’ll drag it out for decades.”

“And that’s where you and Flint come in.” Pen looks down at me. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

Pain throbs in my head, but I grit my teeth through it. “Just tell me what you need us to do.”

* * *

More caffeine and a shower, along with a handful of pain meds, help sort me out. By the time we arrive at the passageway to the demon clerk’s office, I’m functional, if not at one hundred percent.

My glamor is back in place, and the suit I wear acts like armor holding me together. Anny had protested being left behind, but even if I can glamour her to look like a dog, she’ll stand out too much in the demon plane.

I use the cane in my hand as support and limp ahead of our group, bypassing the line of beings waiting for entry.

The bulky man at the entrance spots me coming and grins as he shoves the woman he was about to let through back into line. “Flint, long time no see. And here I thought you forgot about us.”

“I could never forget you, Arkos.” I wave for Marc, who steps forward and opens the box from Boo’s Boutique Bakery. “All hail the bringer of landslides.”

“All hail indeed.” The slag demon licks his lips at the sight of the dozen black-charcoal pucks inside before he glances at the others behind me. “A dozen won’t get you all in.”

I pull a card from my pocket and set it in the box. “Delivery for a month.”

“A month, you say?” Thick, blocky fingers dip into the box, and he plucks out one of the burned cupcakes to toss it into his mouth.

It crunches between Arkos’s teeth, and a smile splits his face.

He closes the lid and takes the box, tucking it under his arm. “Go on in.”

“Hey!” protests the woman at the front of the line. “I was next.”

“And you’ll be last if you keep complaining!” Arkos steps to the side. “Don’t be such a stranger, Flint.”

“We’ll get together for poker soon,” I promise. “And I’ll provide the snacks.”

Arkos grunts and waves us through the door.

Inside the building, three lines form in front of checkpoints, and I head for the frequent crosser line, which is shorter than the rest.

The line moves quickly, and I pull my passport from my inner pocket, the others following suit.

The humanoid-shaped pillar of vapor at the counter flares outward in greeting when we stop in front of her.

“Misty.” I lean on the counter. “Did you go to the spa? You’re looking even more moist than the last time I saw you.”

Little cyclones of happiness form inside the vapor, and she stamps my passport before pointing to my cane.

“This?” I lift it and grimace. “I took a bit of a tumble the other day. These darn bones really are fragile.” I hold it out and sway on my feet before clutching the counter for support. “You can take it, though. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Her vapor pulls tight in sympathy, and she pushes it back toward me before she unlocks the turnstile and waves me through.

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