Chapter 218 Splendid.

Chapter 218: 218 Splendid.

"Fifty million dollars."

"Pfsht!" I choked violently on my tea, hacking into my fist. "I—ah..."

The Jester flicked his claws irreverently. "A mere trifle, of course. I only recently finished extorting a rather substantial war indemnity from the sovereign nation of Australia, and I had some petty cash left over in the offshore accounts. Fifty million should be more than sufficient for your expenses, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think that’ll cover the printing costs," I managed, my voice cracking slightly.

Holy hell. Fifty million dollars for a series of choreographed, zero-risk stunt fights? I could completely finish the underground laboratory upgrades for Rhea, fund Lilith’s endless crusade to add more spikes to the chalet, and still have enough left over to clear out my remaining underworld debts. It was life-changing money.

"Splendid," The Jester said, rising from his chair with theatrical fluidity. "I shall instruct my accountants to wire the funds into your untraceable Swiss accounts immediately."

"You’ll actually wire it?" I asked, standing up as well.

"Of course," he replied, giving a dismissive wave of his clawed hand. "Money is hardly an object when one considers the sacred duty of parenting.

"Besides, I trust you have the professional integrity not to abscond with my investment. I know you will give this project the absolute greatest of your theatrical efforts."

"Uh..."

"Because, you see," The Jester continued, and I couldn’t help the cold sweat that suddenly broke out across the back of my neck as the temperature in the room plummeted by ten degrees.

The shadows along the baseboards violently bled outward, stretching across the floorboards like grasping fingers.

The hearth fire flickered, shrinking down to a pale, sickly blue flame.

"I would dearly love for us to maintain a... wonderfully healthy working relationship," he purred, his wide, smiling mouth barely moving as he stepped closer. The void beneath his hood seemed to expand, swallowing the light around him. "And I simply know you would hate to... disappoint me."

I swallowed hard, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Cull was standing motionless, staring at me with dead, unblinking eyes, his massive hand resting casually on the hilt of his warhammer.

It didn’t need to be said aloud. The subtext hung in the air like a butcher’s cleaver.

The Jester was the sort of ancient, eldritch lunatic who viewed other people continuing to draw breath as a personal, revocable favor he bestowed upon the unwashed masses.

I had just barely avoided stepping into a war with Captain Zero, and I sure as hell didn’t need someone on the Council of Nine taking a personal interest in my skull.

In the business, refusing a direct, polite request from a member of the Council wasn’t just rude—it was suicidal.

And as much as my survival instincts screamed run away to a remote island, walking away from a gig ordered by villain royalty was out of the question. An insult to a man like this never went unanswered.

"Well, naturally," I forced myself to say, flashing a steady, entirely artificial grin. "I’d be absolutely... delighted to help out a fellow parent."

"So wonderful that we speak the exact same language," The Jester sang out. The oppressive gloom instantly snapped shut.

The shadows slinked back into the corners, the hearth fire flared back to a cozy orange, and the sudden, crushing weight lifted entirely off my chest.

I cleared my throat, discreetly wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "Right. So... about your daughter. What’s her handle?"

"She calls herself Hex," The Jester said smoothly, sliding a slender, clawed hand into his tattered velvet sleeve and producing a glossy photograph.

He flipped it across the mahogany table. I snatched it up, my eyes scanning the image.

My heart immediately dropped. Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuck!

I knew her. Of course I knew her, and the worst part was she knew me too. This wasn’t going to go the way I wanted.

"Is something the matter?" The Jester asked, he saw my eyes practically pop out of my head so it was expected.

"Oh nothing!" I said, steadying my heart rate. Maybe she was cool now, it did happen a while ago.

She was stunning, though given her father’s gene pool, I suppose that shouldn’t have come as a massive shock.

Tall, fit, and athletic, she looked like she lived at the gym—details that were painfully obvious in the sleek, form-fitting snow-white leotard she wore.

Over the suit, she sported a billowing, high-collared sorcerer’s cloak that fluttered dramatically around her shoulders.

Concentric rings of blazing white runic magic hovered over her palms like floating neon halos, and a cascade of downy white hair framed a face set in an expression of fierce, unyielding righteousness.

Dammit. She was a magic-user. My absolute least favorite kind of hero to trade blows with.

"When do you want to bring her by for an audition?" I asked, handing the photo back.

The Jester laughed—a high, melodic sound that reminded me of glass chimes in a graveyard. "Oh, goodness, no. She has no idea about our little arrangement."

I stopped dead, staring at him sharply. "What?"

The Jester sighed, tilting his horned cowl in a gesture of paternal exasperation. "As I explained, my dear Vanessa is currently quite cross with me and my professional aspirations.

"We are not on speaking terms. But I have absolute faith in your tracking capabilities. You are a remarkably resourceful young man; I’m certain you’ll manage to locate her out in the field."

"Wait. So she has zero idea I’m running a rigged fight for her benefit?" I pressed, my voice pitching up a fraction.

"None whatsoever! A proper surprise makes for much better television," he beamed, taking a step toward the foyer. "Now, I really must take my leave. I was on my way to Doctor Thaumaturge’s estate anyway.

"Apparently, the old fool is currently taking a leisurely sabbatical on his private yacht in the Aegean Sea, and I simply must go ruin his holiday with a couple of resurrected krakens. Do keep me updated on your progress, won’t you?"

"Yeah. Sure," I muttered, feeling like I had just signed up for a root canal without anesthetic.

"Splendid!"

He swept toward the front doors with a flourish of his tattered velvet robes, Cull stalking silently in his wake.

As we walked through the foyer, The Jester suddenly paused. He glanced back at me over his shoulder, the void beneath his hood tilting sideways in a grotesque imitation of human curiosity.

"Oh, and do remember, my dear boy," he whispered, his aristocratic baritone dropping into a tone of absolute, chilling finality. "Under no circumstances should any genuine, permanent harm befall my Vanessa. No broken bones, no soul-draining curses, no disfigurement.

"If so much as a single white hair on her head is singed by your magnetics... well, you and I will come to understand precisely why the Prince of Darkness and I maintain such a close, intimately knit friendship. He has been quite eager to redecorate his lower chambers with new interior styling."

I swallowed hard, my mouth tasting like dry ash.

Then, the tension instantly vanished. The Jester threw his head back and burst into peals of bright, echoing laughter, waving a hand dismissively through the air.

"Hahaha! Oh, do relax, Polaris! I am merely pulling your leg! A bit of traditional gallows humor for the trade!" He flashed his wide, razor-thin grin, though his eyes remained dead, ancient, and completely unchanging. "Though... do try your absolute best to keep her safe all the same. Ta-ta!"

With a snap of his fingers, a brilliant disc of green arcane fire materialized on the front porch. He and Cull stepped onto it, and in a blinding flash of emerald light and a crackle of ozone, they vanished.

I stood alone in the newly renovated, spike-infested foyer, staring out the open double doors.

Glacia stepped out from the hallway, her white cape swishing as she folded her hands behind her back, watching the spot where the dark sorcerer had just disappeared.

"Most impressive, sir," she said softly, her blue eyes shining with genuine admiration.

"How’s that?" I asked, rubbing my aching temples.

"This is a momentous milestone, sir!" Glacia beamed, her chest puffing out with pride. "The Jester has personally recognized your supreme prowess in the underworld! A most excellent development. Of course,"

she added with a smug, aristocratic tilt of her chin, "I knew it was only a matter of time before the true apex predators of the world came to acknowledge your genius.

"But still! For a Council member to visit you here, negotiate as an equal, and depart without a drop of bloodshed... it speaks volumes of the respect you have commanded."

"Yeah. Great," I groaned, looking back out at the sky where the massive floating fortress was slowly drifting away into the returning storm clouds, trailing lingering wisps of green ozone.

And if I somehow failed to make his runaway, magical superhero daughter look like a world-beating champion, I had a terrifyingly sinking suspicion that The Jester’s next visit would involve a lot less tea and a lot more hellfire.

Haaa...

It was a tough, deeply stressful way to make a living.