Scala (14 page)

“This all wrong. I wanted this to be special, Myla.”

“What?”

“I asked my father for the royal betrothal jewels.” He takes my hands in his. “I want to make our engagement official.”

My heart lightens. “That's awesome.” I picture Lincoln and I married, spending all our time together. Killing demons, cuddling, fooling around, killing some more demons.

The idea is so amazing, I can't even think straight.

I bob a little on the park bench. “I mean, we talked about it the other day over pizza, but I didn't realize you were really going for the jewels.” My tail musses Lincoln's hair. “Knowing this is something you're really thinking about? You've made me super-happy.”

“Still, the first time we seriously discuss an engagement, it shouldn't be on a random park bench in Purgatory.”

So, that's what he's worried about?
I don't need champagne and roses to make the moment special. Okay, that honestly wouldn't suck, but hey. Getting married will be the bomb, and I'm happy to have it happen, end of story.

“Look, in my mind, our engagement happened when we fell in love and became Angelbound.”

Lincoln keeps looking away, which is totally inconsistent with the typical upbeat ‘we're getting engaged soon' vibe. I set my fingers on his cheek and slowly guide him to meet my gaze. His eyes are filled with grief and doubt. The lighthearted feeling that hit me at the start of our engagement-chat turns into something leaden.

“This is supposed to be awesome stuff and you look so sad. What's going on?”

“Father can't find the jewels. Lost in the Royal Vaults.”

“Okay, that doesn't sound too believable. How do you lose betrothal jewels?”

“You don't. Father won't give me them until things are sorted out with Adair, one way or another.”

My chest tightens. Now, I can see the problem. Betrothal jewels are a super-old thrax tradition, dating from their earliest times. Before there were written marriage contracts, there were betrothal jewels. There's only one set per House, no copies. Once you give them to another House, you marry someone from there, or else. But that tradition's thousands of years old. Certainly, they've moved on from it by now.

“Sure, I heard about betrothal jewels, but I figured you wouldn't really…”

“Oh, we really.”

I tilt my head to one side, still trying to wrap my head around this. “So until you get the jewels, we can't get engaged.”

“I will find them, Myla. Make no mistake.” He rubs his neck with his hand. “This situation with my father and Acca is frustrating in the extreme, that's all.”

A spark of inspiration appears in my mind. I know exactly what to do. Someone here needs a little pep talk, and I know just the one to give.

I pull Lincoln to his feet. “Remember when we were in the gym with my father, and I was all freaky because I'd just lost my igni?”

“Sure.”

“You said I needed to tell Dad what happened. Keep things moving forward. Well, that's exactly what we need to do now. Focus on putting together the finest sting operation in the history of the after-realms. Let's take care of Adair, and I'm sure your father will find those jewels.”

“This idea has some merit.” He laces his fingers with mine, and swings our arms between us. “What do you suggest, then?”

“How about we go to my place and run through some scenarios for Operation Take Down Adair? I even have a few that involve killing her.” I bob my eyebrows up and down. “That'll make you feel better.”

He smiles, a genuine one at last. “And here, I thought I was the Master of Pep Talks.”

“I've a feeling we'll be taking turns at pep talks for a long time to come. It's all part of being a team.”

He wraps me in a deep hug. “With you, it is.”

“Damn right.” I nuzzle into his shoulder, my chest filling with warmth, love and, best of all, hope.

It's late at night when I approach the back door of the warehouse. Today's been one Hell of a long day, starting with the Grand Unveiling and continuing with a quick trip to Antrum.

And it's not over yet. The moment I walk through this door, Operation Take Down Adair begins.

I scan the darkened alley leading into the warehouse, nervous energy making me shift my weight from foot to foot. All of Walker's guards left a few minutes ago. The alleyway sure looks empty, but then again, I'm not a hunter like Lincoln. With any luck, Adair's still following me around, same as she's been doing for the last two months. I need her to enter the warehouse, say something incriminating, and end up in jail.

I twist the door's rusted handle; it opens with a long creak. I step inside, my footsteps echoing eerily through the darkened warehouse. Turning on the flashlight in my hand, I scan the empty aisles around me. Everything looks deserted although, in truth, that's far from the case. Lincoln and Company got into
this place about an hour ago. Now, they're waiting in position in case Adair takes the bait.

And that bait would be the Orb and me. Alone. Unprotected.

Come and get us.

I navigate through the network of aisles and wooden crates until I reach a box labeled Maxon Bane. I slip off the wooden top; it lands with a thud on the concrete floor. The interior is empty. I pat around the crate's wooden walls, like I'm searching for the Orb. I want Adair to think that I'm coming back to check if the crate's really empty because, hey, it really wasn't. Now, all I need is for Adair to show.

My heart kicks faster in my chest. Come on, Adair. Show up, already.

Turns out, I don't have long to wait.

Suddenly, an igni cord wraps around my waist, lifting me from the ground. For a moment I'm held aloft, my legs dangling. After that, the cord slams me against the aisle behind my back. There, the twenty-foot-tall stack of boxes topples over, causing a domino effect on the rows nearby. With a deafening boom-boom-boom, three aisles tumble over in succession.

I lay on my back for a second, feeling the tug along the igni cord around my waist. It's Adair, trying to pull power from me through the cord. Now, I know how the transfer works. Our palms need to be connected. I'm careful to keep my hands far away from the cord. Still, the rope of igni winds up my chest, starting to crawl vine-like down my forearms.

The cord curls closer to my hands, and panic zooms up my spine. Once the cord hits my palms, it'll be the same deal as in the Ghost Tower. I can't block the transfer. Can't reverse it, either. My only option is to slow how quickly Adair can take my igni.

Not a great option.

I summon my own igni. They blast off my arms like piston rods, whipping across the toppled aisles. The igni-shafts slam into Adair's stomach, and then retract once again. Adair gets pummeled against the stacks of boxes behind her. With more ear-splitting booms, four more aisles topple over in domino-style.

Around me, Adair's cords stretch, flicker and loosen. This didn't happen at the Ghost Tower. What could be causing Adair's igni bindings to weaken now?

The answer appears in my mind, simple and perfect.

“You need to be connected to my palms to have a really strong grip, Adair.” I conjure a huge pair of igni clippers and snap the ties between us. Adair's cord disappears. “So, guess who's never getting near my hands again?”

I hop onto my feet. Now that I'm in battle-mode, my Scala robes have changed into armor. I brush my fingers across the baculum-holster on my thigh. I'd love to ignite these things, but angelfire isn't any good against igni. I'm better off keeping my hands free so I can counter Adair's next igni-fueled attack.

Across from me, Adair rises to her feet, unhurt. Whoa. She must've gotten some nasty demon blood in her. My last igni-punch should have at least taken her breath away. Adair straightens the skirt of her yellow gown. “Stop making it harder on yourself,” she says primly. “I want my igni.”

Meaning she wants to steal my Scala powers. If only she'd say that in plain English, I could use it as a confession.

“I owe you nothing. You're here to steal my powers.” I'm tempted to add a ‘riiiiiiight?' to the end of that sentence, but that fall into the ‘not too subtle' category of sting operation. I'm already pushing the envelope as it is.

Adair raises her arms again. Another igni cord blasts at me, heading straight for my waist once more. I leap high into the air, do a somersault, and land safely out of harm's way. In response, I conjure an igni wrecking ball that swings across the warehouse floor, taking out Adair as well as five more aisles of crates.

This is fun and all, but neither of us is getting the upper hand. And at this rate, we're bound to knock over the aisle where Lincoln and everyone else are hiding. I need a new strategy, and fast. My warrior sense kicks in, running through approaches and options. An idea appears in my mind. I nod once to myself. It's worth a try.

The next igni-cord that Adair sends my way, I dodge it while making an offer. “How about a quick truce? Let's see if we can talk this out before we kill each other.”

“Before I kill you, more like. Why don't you send me to Hell?”

“So you can steal my igni? Not going to happen.” I lower my arms. “Let's discuss options. Short truce?”

She doesn't need to answer, really. I know I have my truce because she's stopped sending the same igni-cord attack at me for the umpteenth time.

I slowly walk towards Adair, my arms down and palms facing forward. “Here are my terms. Want my igni? Come and get them like a warrior. Let's fight one to one, not use igni as shields. You've got the blood of a demon in you now. Show me how strong you are. Take what's yours, if that's what you think my powers are.”

We're a yard apart when I stop.

Adair's mismatched eyes narrow. “You're an Arena warrior.”

“I thought you were the Great Lady of the greatest House, Acca. The first Scala heir. The first Angelbound to Lincoln. Are you telling me now that you're too frightened to fight?” I slap on the snarkiest grin I can manage. “Let me guess what kind of demon blood you have in you. Slug class? Insect, perhaps? No doubt, it's something small and slimy that hides in the shadows. Lowest of the low.”

It's the ‘lowest of the low' bit that gets her.

At those words, Adair's eyes flare demon-red. Pay dirt. It took me years to learn to control my inner wrath demon. As Adair's about to discover, that inner fighter will make you do all sorts of stupid stuff if you aren't careful. I don't want to be a premature gloater, but I can't help but smile, just a little.

Adair bends over at the waist and races towards me, ready to head-butt me in the stomach. As she rushes forward, I work hard not to roll my eyes. Here's exactly the kind of stupid move that I was hoping to goad her into. Head butting? Really?

Adair's skull rams into my belly, slamming me onto my back. I make a great show of pretending to pant for air, like the wind was knocked out of me. Adair
straddles my rib cage and presses my hands against the floor, careful to keep our palms flush against one another.

The set-up is in place. Time to get a confession.

“What are you…” Pant, pant, pant. “Going to do now?”

“Steal your powers, of course.”

Bingo. A massive jolt of happy runs right through me.

The ignited end of a baculum sword appears at Adair's cheek, the rest of it attached to a very pissed-off Lincoln. He speaks two words in his most menacing-yet-Princely-way: “Get up.”

Adair looks into Lincoln's eyes. “No, my love. I have to take—” But then, her gaze rests on the array of folks standing behind Lincoln. “How are you all here?”

I hop back up to standing and I must admit, it's a pretty impressive group we pulled together at the last minute. There are my parents, Octavia, Connor, Cissy, and about a dozen Rixa knights in blood-red armor. These guys run the top-priority jail for especially bad thrax.

My tail and I exchange a high-five. We did it. We actually caught Adair.

Suddenly, my heart feels so light, I could float out of this warehouse. It's probably bad form to do a happy-dance right now, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. Badly.

Mom steps forward, pulls out a parchment, and reads the official charges against Adair. There's a lot of awesome stuff in there about why stealing igni power is one of the worst crimes in the after-realms. Dad suggested putting that in. Nice touch.

Once Mom's done, Octavia takes the sheet from her hand. “We accept the prisoner transfer.” She motions to the Knights. “Take her to the dungeons.”

It was Connor's idea to put Adair into the dungeons at Arx Hall. They aren't exactly a five-star hotel, but they're pretty close. I pushed for a more dungeon-y setting, but there's only so far I can push at this point.

All the blood drains from Adair's face. “You can't do this. Not after the price I paid.”

That isn't the first time she said that particular phrase. “What price are you talking about, Adair?”

“You'd know nothing of such things,” she snaps. “You're an imposter. I am the True Scala.”

I'm tempted to say something snarky about what makes a True Scala, but I don't want to be a sore winner.

The Dungeon Knights end the moment by marching Adair towards the warehouse's back door. The heavy dread that's been weighing on me for weeks lightens to nothing. This is it; Adair is captured.

Oooooooh, yeah.

Adair tries to break away, babbling how she deserves to get her life back, but the Knights are a pretty agile bunch despite their armor. They easily recapture her and push her towards the door. It's such a pretty sight, I could cry.

What a day.

This morning, Adair sabotaged my Grand Unveiling. Twelve hours later, and she's heading off to jail, led by thrax guards, no less.