Angelbound (44 page)

The King of Hell drums his three-knuckled fingers on the tabletop. “Come now, boy. I’ve spoken to you in your dreams every week for the last thousand years. No need to be shy.”

My eyes widen with understanding. Like how Verus sends me dreamscapes of the past, Armageddon must speak with his son in his sleep. I nod. It makes sense; greater demons have all sorts of odd powers. But why does he think I’m Maxon?

Armageddon arches the right brow on his stone-smooth face. “No need to show yourself or speak this time. I can smell the stench of your igni from here.” He drops his palms onto the tabletop and leans forward. “You’re so very close, my son.”

It’s the igni. I’ve spent the last eight hours on a Scala Heir bender, showing my powers to Mom, Walker, Lincoln, and his parents. Igni must leave some kind of trace on my body and soul. Somehow it fooled Armageddon into chatting me
up in my dreams. That’s why I don’t feel the terror of being physically close to him.

Armageddon leans back in his chair. “We both know what you’re thinking. Long ago, I asked you to join me in ruling Hell; you refused. Now you carry my curse.” His beady black eyes narrow into slits. “Go ahead. Ask me to forgive you, my son. Ask one more time. Perhaps I’ll change my mind and offer you the mercy you so desperately seek.”

There’s a long pause where I know Armageddon’s waiting for the mercy-begging to commence. That’s so not happening. Ever.

“Not in the mood to grovel today, my boy? How tiresome.” His eyes blare crimson red. “No matter. I will fulfill my curse and drag your body to Hell by force, and not to rule…But to suffer. Perhaps your soul will go to Heaven one day, but not before I torture your body
in Hell
.”

The demon pauses, and then snaps his fingers. “We’re done here.”

The office and Armageddon disappear. The rest of the night, my consciousness drifts about in darkness and silence.

Great. A crappy night’s sleep right before my big match. Yet another reason to hate Armageddon.

I awaken, finding myself alone in my own bed. Lincoln’s left a small note on the nightstand beside me. ‘Off to rumple the couch before your mom wakes up. See you at breakfast. L.’ With a sad smile, I slip the note into the top drawer of my little table. It came from Lincoln; I can’t bring myself to throw it away.

My bedroom door swings open. Mom steps inside, my fighting suit gripped in her hand. The worry lines around her eyes have deepened overnight. She pauses. “You’re up.”

I hoist myself to a seated position and set my feet on the chilly floor. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“It’s 5 AM. Time to get ready for the Arena.”

I rub my neck and stretch. “Thanks, Mom.” Nervous energy twists down my spine. My hands tremble slightly.

Come on, Myla.
This should be a match like all the others. Stay calm.

Tossing my suit on the bed, Mom gives my shoulder a gentle pat. “We’re all in the kitchen. See you there when you’re ready.” She steps toward the door and
pauses. “Do you want some Frankenberry?”

“Sure, Mom.” The way my stomach churns, I may not hold it down, though.

I change into my fighting suit and step into our little kitchen, which is standing-room-only this morning. Mom, Cissy, and Zeke all sit at our tiny table. Lincoln and Walker stand nearby. Tim waits in a far corner, looking wide-eyed and twitchy.

The Prince winds me into a cozy hug. “Good morning, Myla.”

Leaning into his shoulder, I inhale his yummy scent of forest pine and leather. “I’m glad you’re here.” I force on a grin.

His voice sounds low and soft in my ear. “You’ll kick ass today.”

A genuine smile curls my mouth. “Hells, yeah.” Stepping back, I take in Lincoln’s gear: black body armor, daggers holstered on his outer thighs, and baculum strapped to the base of his spine. “You look ready to kick ass too.”

Lincoln shrugs. “Another day at the office.”

Cissy and Zeke step closer; they’re careful not to stare at my new blue irises. It’s like those dreams where I show up to school naked, only instead of naked, I’m a blue-eyed, soul-swapping super-being. I’m sure they’re trying to be sensitive, but sheesh. I feel like enough of a freak already.

“Morning, Myla.” Cissy wraps me in an especially long squeeze. “Walker told us everything. I’m going to miss you, sweetie.”

“I’ll miss you too, Cissy.” I picture the little shoebox of moths in her locker. I’ve always relied on Cissy to pick up the pieces and protect the endangered cocoon of weirdness that is my life. I honestly don’t know what I’ll do without her
friendship. “Very much.” My voice catches.

Zeke awkwardly punches my shoulder. “The next Scala, eh? Sorta explains why you never fell for any other guys at school.”

Cissy breaks our hug, spins about, and elbows him in the ribs. “Be nice, Zeke. This isn’t about conquests with your buddies. We’re saying goodbye to Myla today.”

“Oh, yeah.” Zeke stares at his sneakers. “It’s a bummer how you have to run off and everything.”

“Thanks.” Cissy, I’ll miss. Zeke, maybe not so much.

Walker steps forward, his long robes swaying with the movement. He swings his arm wide, gesturing toward Tim. Compared to how Walker towers in his dark robes, Tim looks like a twelve-year-old in a black sheet. “Myla, I’d like you to meet TIM-29.”

“Hello, Tim.” It’s weird being introduced to someone you’ve dreamscaped about for months. Especially when the someone in question is kind-of a douchebag. Too bad we couldn’t think of anyone else.

“Pleasure to meet you.” His large black eyes stare into mine. “I can’t believe it. You really do have angel-blue irises.”

“Yeah.” I quickly shake his chilly hand. “I suppose I should get used to being the new freak show in town.”

He taps his chin with his gray pointer finger. “Perhaps you could show us something. Do a trick or two with igni.”

“Tim!” Mom sets her fists at her waist. “It’s a risk for Myla to create igni here.”

“Ah, of course.” Tim chuckles, but there’s no happiness in it. “It’s so hard to believe, you having a child with Xavier. I mean, he’s never fathered offspring in the history of time.” His mouth snakes into a cunning smile. “I thought perhaps the girl’s parent was Furor.” He reaches toward my face. “There are spells you can cast to change eye color.”

His hand moves closer to my eyes, but I’m too stunned to break his fingers. He thinks Mom’s making this up? Like being the Scala Heir is such a hoot. What a doofus.

Mom bounds across the room, placing her body between me and Tim. “The subject is closed.”

“Excuse my enthusiasm.” Tim bows. “I’m overwhelmed to be back in the presence of Senator Lewis, as well as to meet her lovely daughter.”

Wow. So he’s a total suck-up
and
a douchebag. Yay. Lincoln shoots me a questioning look. I shrug. ‘It is what it is’ at this point.

Mom tries to smile. “Thank you for helping us today, Tim.”

I nod my head, impressed. They’re both acting pretty adult here, considering the history. Mom told me that when Tim discovered she’d hooked up with Xavier, they had a falling out. I’m guessing it was one of those ‘You love me? Then it sucks to be you’ conversations. Now he’s coming back to portal Xavier’s kid around. Awkward!

Walker unrolls a stack of maps onto the kitchen table. “Everyone, please take a look.” We all gather around. On the top map, the dark sand of the Gray Sea stretches for miles. Here and there, lines of black rock break up the dreary desert.
Walker points to one particularly large wall of dark stone. “Our bunker’s hidden right here.”

My stomach sinks. That’s my new home away from home, for a few days at least. So. Freaking. Weird.

Walker’s finger follows the line of dark stone. “Behind the rock wall, there’s a huge dune.” His fingertip starts at the top of the stone wall, slides down a long ramp-like dune, and ends far off in the desert.

Lincoln nods. “There may be good cover there, if we need it.”

“Exactly.” Walker taps the dune’s crest. “This ridge was designed for snipers to protect the bunker entrance.”

Walker points to the bottom of the rock wall. “The bunker’s entrance is down here.”

Images from my dreamscapes flash through my mind. “Is the bunker’s door a kind of big circle in the sand that opens with fire?”

“Yes, it is.” Walker’s coal-black eyes focus on mine. “Was that in one of your dreamscapes?”

“In all of them, actually.” Although what was so wrong with Verus sitting down and explaining everything to me like a normal person? I mean, other than breaking her promise to my mother, which she basically did anyway. Sneaky Verus.

Walker points to the spot on the desert floor where the bunker entrance is hidden. “We’ll need four people to stand at each of the four points of the compass. When your four sets of hands touch the sand at the same time, a circle
of fire will appear. The bunker door will slowly rise from there.”

Cissy chews her fingernail. “Do we need gloves or anything?”

Walker shakes his head. “The bunker’s encased in angel fire to block pure demons. It won’t burn you.”

I open my mouth, ready to say that the bunker’s fire never burned me in my dreamscapes. Then I realize I’m a soul-swapping part-archangel super-being who may not be subject to the typical laws of physics. I sigh. My ongoing quest of personal discovery has officially hit a dead end. I know who I am, the Scala Heir, but I’m not too excited about that fact. Moving souls? Becoming a target for every creep who wants to rule the afterlife? Being more of a freak than I was already? Not sure I’m up for any of that. Staying hidden sounds like a great plan, maybe a permanent one.

Mom sets her hands on her hips. “The bunker protects from ghoul or demon attacks. If quasis and ghouls are inside, then ghouls can create portals in and out. If no ghouls are within, quasis open the main door manually.”

Lincoln lets out an appreciative ‘humph.’ “Clever security system.”

“There’s more cool stuff here.” Raising his hand, Walker flips to another map. This one shows the bunker’s interior. “There’s an antechamber and a main room inside. Both places have enough food, water, and clothing to last a few months at least. The main chamber also has a communications console and a periscope to the desert floor.”

Walker points to Cissy and Zeke. “Once you open the bunker doors and get inside, Tim will create a portal to take you home.” Walker turns to my mother.
“Meanwhile, Camilla will set up the communications console so we’re connected to the outside world. Myla, Lincoln, and I will meet you in the main chamber at 6 AM.” Walker sets his long arms into the folds of his robe. “I believe that covers everything. Any questions?”

Only about a million.
Where will the angels send me to hide? What happens if Armageddon invades Purgatory? When will I see Lincoln, my friends, and family again? And, my new personal favorite: Can we get someone
else
to be the Scala Heir?

Every muscle in my body overflows with nervous energy. I stare at my hands, opening and closing them over and over.

Walker clears his throat. “Myla?”

I snap out of my thoughts and look up. “Yeah?” That’s when I realize it. Everyone in the room stares at me, and probably has been for some time. A flush creeps up my neck. Am I supposed to give a speech or something? This Scala Heir stuff is total bullshit. “I mean, what was the question again?”

Mom tilts her head to one side, her expression gentle. “Are we ready to go?”

Oh, I didn’t realize that was my call.
I slap on what I hope is a super-confident face. “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go. Cissy, Zeke, Tim, and Mom open the bunker. Walker, Lincoln, and I go the Arena. Then Walker takes me to the bunker. Yeah.”

Dammit. I remember the awful speech I gave to Lincoln at the fountain. That one looks like genuine oratory compared to the nugget of crap that just fell from my lips.

Lincoln slips his warm hand into mine. “Together, we can do anything, Myla.”

I inhale a deep breath.
I hope so, Lincoln.

***

I stumble out of the portal, landing in one of the Arena’s darkened archways. Light flickers in from the stadium floor, casting odd shadows on the rock walls. Lincoln and Walker step out next, appearing a few feet behind me.

The Prince sets his hand on Walker’s shoulder. “Before we go further, I want to thank you for taking such good care of Myla and her mother. I only asked you to deliver a few messages, and you’ve gone above and beyond.”

My heart warms. Walker’s always so awesome and I never thank him enough. Stepping up to his side, I arch my feet onto my tippy-toes and kiss him gently on the cheek. “I can’t believe it, this could be our last Arena match together.” I look up at the ceiling, trying to calculate. “The first time you snuck me in here was, what, eight years ago?” I smile, remembering how Walker portaled me in on the sly, saying in that low voice of his: ‘you may be called to serve one day.’ Together, we watched a Viperon demon fight. I was instantly hooked.

Stepping backwards, I rock on my heels, smiling at the memory. Then I realize that it’s quiet in the hallway. Waaaaaaay too quiet.

Walker and Lincoln face one another, their expressions unreadable. There’s a long pause accentuated by gentle pit-pat of condensation off the uneven stone.

Huh. What’s going on here?

I thunk my palm onto my forehead. “I forgot, you know each other too. How did that happen?” I smile. Story-telling time! Nice distraction.

Lincoln keeps staring at Walker and not saying anything. The temperature in
the hallway becomes decidedly chilly. Something’s up.

Walker turns to me. “You remember how my great-grandmother was an archangel?”

I nod. “Mom told me about it ages ago.”

“She’s the archangel Aquila,” says Walker. “She also founded the House of Rixa. Lincoln and I are both members of the Aquilinea, a society for the descendants of Aquila.”

I chuckle. “I should start a society for the descendants of Xavier. It’ll give me something to do when I’m alone.” I look between Lincoln and Walker, waiting for a response. That wasn’t my best joke, but how about a courtesy laugh for the girl heading into an Arena death match? Speaking of that, my insides squirm with anxiety. The fight should start in a few minutes.