“Have you gone daft?” asks Arthur.
“No, I’ve never felt more sane.”
Arthur scans Drusus’ face. “You know, I think you really mean this.”
“I do.”
“Then, you’re a dead man now. No one will ever hear this filth … And your life is over.”
Drusus lifts his chin. “I know.”
Merlin touches the mirror. Blue haze rolls over the vision of Drusus, obscuring it. That same colored mist rises from the mirror’s surface until a cloud of azure magic settles in the center of the ghost tower. That haze solidifies into a particular form.
It’s Drusus the angel.
And he’s solid.
I don’t remember moving, but somehow Myla and I are in each other’s arms, sharing a deep hug.
Drusus steps about in a wobbly circle. “Where am I?”
“Don’t worry,” says Nimue. “It will take a few seconds for the spell to wear off.”
Sure enough, Drusus’s eyes widen. “I remember now.” He pats his chest. “I’m solid. It worked! Do you think I can return to Earth again and try to help Charles?”
Dad nods. “I may be able to pull a string or two.”
Merlin, Nimue, Ximena, and Fluff all surround Drusus, firing off a long list of questions. This is all part of the test. I kiss the top of Myla’s head and then whisper in her ear. “Told you it was brilliant. We should have made that a bet.”
Myla chuckles. “Too bad we didn’t. I’m still up one win.”
She’s talking about our bet back at the Arena contest. “I look forward to you claiming your prize.”
Camilla approaches us. Myla rushes forward to meet her mother. “What do you think?”
“This is a major breakthrough,” declares Camilla. “We’ve always sorted souls and purged out evil ones before they could get to Heaven. Now we can be purging in terms of cleansing the spirit as well. I love this!”
Walker steps up. “I may have some ideas on how to expand this design. We could build some soul towers that are more mirror towers, if that makes sense.”
Xavier joins the group as well. Within seconds, Xavier, Camilla and Walker are in deep into conversations about mirror towers and soul priorities.
Walker waves me over. “Lincoln, do you think we can spare some alchemists? We may be able to use them for more tests.”
I hold up my pointer finger. “One second.” Scanning the tower, I find Myla looking into the mirror. She’s alone. I sidle up beside her. “Is everything all right?”
Myla nods. “She’s here.”
No question who she is. At last. All week, Myla has been calling out to her inner angel with no reply.
They’re finally speaking again.
2
Myla
My gaze stays locked on the image of myself in the mirror. Only it’s not me. This version has angel wings that are tipped with gold. She speaks in my mind.
“You did well.”
I reply back in my thoughts. “I’ve been calling for you.”
“I’m not one to be summoned or controlled. I am your angelic nature.” In the mirror, my inner angel holds up her hand; an orb of blue magic materializes on her palm. “I had planned to stay silent forever. Yet your desire to help the fading angels brought me forth.”
Let the record show that I’ve thought about my inner angel a ton over the last week. I’m not missing my chance to get some answers.
“You were the one who sent the visions to the wrath coven. You set up Verus with visions too. You then enchanted the Band of Epochs to bippity-boppity-boo onto my thumb, and then later, to fall off as well. You even cast the spell that protected Lincoln and I from the demonpocalypse.”
I’d add Remy to the list of things my Angelic self magic-ed into motion, but I did snooping last week. Remy got herself into trouble, all on her lonesome.
In the mirror, the image of my inner angel nods. “Yes. You were willing to do what you could for the fading angels. So I stepped in as well.”
This leads to what I consider to be my big magilla question. “I’m in front of mirrors many times a day. You could have appeared to me and given me a heads-up.”
“You could have called for me as well.”
I don’t really have a great comeback on that one. I always knew my inner demons. But my inner angel? I have to admit, I was never looking for her.
“Will we be friends?” I ask.
“You’ll never see me again.”
“Ouch. That’s rough.” My inner angel is kind-of a bitch.
“I’m already in everything you do. The core of your being. Besides, my magic must be conserved so it may pass to your child, the one who’ll save the very fabric of the after-realms.”
“You mean Maxon?” Because I think of that kid as more El Destructo than a fixer.
“No, I speak of your future daughter, Portia.”
The mirror mists over in blue magic. An electric charge of power moves through my body. More magic. When the mirror clears, my inner angel is gone … and my mind is a blank. Closing my eyes, I try to summon the last thing my angelic side said. She spoke a name. Petunia? Penelope? Polly?
Nope, that’s not it.
That said, other things about my inner angel stay perfectly clear in my mind. Like how she says I’ll never see her again.
She may believe that, but I doubt it. As my inner angel already discovered, I can be very persuasive.
3
Myla
I’d feel bummed out that my inner angel is gone, but that’s when Dad strolls up. He wears the same shit-eating grin that I see daily on my son.
“Guess what?” For a badass archangel, my father’s opening lines can be a little corny. Still, it’s beyond awesome to have my real father back and remembering who I am.
“What?”
“I set up a celebration for the success of Avalon One! Or rather, I had the idea and Octavia did the setting up. It’s in the Arena.”
I blink hard. “The Arena?”
“Yes, Octavia felt there was bad mojo there after the contest, so she wanted to—as she put it—take back the memories.”
“I love this idea, but…” I wince. “Didn’t you wonder if Avalon One might fail?”
“Not for a second.” Dad winks. Even if he’s lying his butt off, I appreciate the effort. “Now get changed and let’s celebrate!”
So that’s exactly what we do.
An hour later, we’re all in the Arena. Octavia has decorated everything with different colored spotlights. The beams rove across the darkened Arena. As they cross, it creates an otherworldy vibe.
Honestly, I never thought the Arena could look majestic. But Octavia pulled it off.
There are tons of thrax here. You’d think after being their queen, I’d recognize at least half the faces Octavia invited to a party. Not yet.
Mom, Dad and Walker arrive. The Ghoul Reconciliation Convention ended up being, as Mom calls it, a solid first step. My mother is thrilled to be watching Maxon tonight; she missed him while being so busy with the conference.
My new knights have taken over the dance floor. You wouldn’t think that Merlin and Nimue had recently lived in the middle ages, considering how they have their pick of dance partners. Even Ximena is chatting up an angel. That could be interesting. And Fluff is zooming around and having the time of his life.
Speaking of angels, Drusus made a quick appearance. He’s now a guardian angel in training with none other than Verus as his sponsor.
And yes, my father does work that quickly.
By the way, Verus corners me to say that if I don’t avoid salty foods, I might start an event chain that ends with an extra-horrible monsoon on Earth. I’m starting to wonder if Verus is an oracle … or if she just wants me to stop eating junk food. I give her what I consider to be a non-binding maybe and then slip off to scour the crowd for signs of my bestie.
At last, Cissy and Zeke arrive. I’m thrilled to grab my bestie and hide in the shadows. We
spend a full hour updating each other on everything that happened. While my knights and I were on crunch-time with Avalon One, I hadn’t had a chance to really tell Cissy much of anything. Now, she’s totally loving all details, especially the King Arthur gossip.
It’s almost midnight when the wrath coven arrives. I’m bracing for another yucky conversation—the one I had with Verus turned out to be a tad scarring—but the ladies are super-sweet. They tell me how much they liked getting secret visions from my hidden inner angel. They’re even working on a regular sized quilt for me that includes images of all my new knights. And I got a firm confirmation there would be no blood and guts involved.
Oh, and Connor is here, too. He hangs for an hour and then slips off to do … whatever stuff Lincoln’s father does these days. I swear, it’s like he walks around with his own little raincloud over his head.
My parents beg off early. Mom says she’s tired, but I think the real reason is that she wants to put Maxon to sleep. Fine with me. Mom is awesome with my son. A little heavier on the rules than Octavia, and I think that’s good for my little man.
It’s close to midnight when Lincoln pulls me onto the dance floor. The place is hopping since Octavia found a great DJ. I’m super excited to show off my new little black dress with a flare skirt. It’s great for twirling. Lincoln looks sharp as always in his back suit.
A slow song starts and Lincoln pulls me against him. “I wish we could sneak off.”
I can’t help but grin. Usually, we attend formal balls in Antrum. Lincoln is an expert at knowing every secret passageway in his palaces. Even though Octavia holds court by the exit, we’re always able to sneak off early.
Our bodies sway to slow tune. I love the feel of his firm muscles against me. “As a matter of fact, I know a sneaky place.”
Lincoln leans in to nip my ear. “Really?”
“It’s where I used to get ready for matches.”
“Oh, Myla.” Lincoln stops dancing. “This is going to be a problem.”
“Bad problem?”
“Good problem.”
Lacing my fingers with Lincoln’s, I guide my guy off the Arena floor. The moving spotlights make it easy to slip off unnoticed into a nearby archway. Then it’s a matter of navigating through the back corridors until we reach small stone room. There’s not much to speak of here, outside of some hooks on the walls and a few large wooden trunks.
I step into the center of the space and twirl. “Here it is. Changing room central.”
Lincoln slips off his jacket and sets it onto a nearby trunk. “Did you come here after we met?”
There’s a certain predatory gleam in my guy’s eyes that I’m enjoying very much indeed. “Oh, sure,” I reply. “I had lots of matches after we first met.”
My gaze lands on a particular trunk. Memories appear. My face turns eleven shades of red.
Lincoln notices the trunk in question as well as my blush. He steps up to the trunk and damn, my fantasies were all correct. The lid comes to just the right height at his waistline.
Lincoln runs his fingers over the lid. “And what is there about this particular piece of furniture, may I ask?”
“No point telling you that I don’t know what you’re talking about, huh?”
“None.”
“Well, I might have thought about you, the trunk and, um, things.”
Lincoln steps closer. “Things?”
“I’d put on my dragonscale suit and wonder what would happen if you came into the dressing room or something.”
That predatory look returns to Lincoln’s mismatched eyes. It makes me feel all woozy inside. Not a bad thing.
“I love this story. So you’d be … what?”
I gesture toward the trunk. “Sitting here.”
Lincoln scoops me up and sets me right atop the trunk. “Like this?”
“Uh-huh.”
A knowing grin rounds his mouth. “So I could stand before you like this.” He rests his hands on my knees. His skin is all warm and rough at once. Little by little, Lincoln slowly guides my legs apart and presses my skirt up to my hips. Then he steps between my legs.
“Almost like that,” I say breathlessly.
At last, Lincoln presses himself against me. At this angle, his hardness hits all the right places. “Do you mean this?” he asks.
Fire sparks inside my core. “Exactly.”
“I can see the appeal.” Lincoln slowly trails his hands over my body. Wherever he touches me, there’s an electric zing of desire. Leaning in, he stops when his mouth hovers a breath above mine. “You know what I want.”
“I do.” I lick along the seam of his lips. “And I’m calling in my prize.”
Our mouths meet in a rough kiss. Somehow, my underwear ends up torn off and then—yes—Lincoln is inside me. We make love. I adore the feeling that we’re joined. One person. One bliss.
Afterward, I decide that it’s good to have my own knights of the round table.
But far better to share body and soul with King Lincoln.
—The End—
* * *
The story continues with ARMAGEDDON, Angelbound Origins 7 (read on for a sample chapter!) and QUASI REDUX, Angelbound Origins 8.
Also By Christina Bauer
ARMAGEDDON
Angelbound Origins Book 7
The story continues in ARMAGEDDON, Book 7!
QUASI REDUX
Angelbound Origins Book 8
More Myla-Lincoln fun in QUASI REDUX, Book 8!
LINCOLN
Enjoy Lincoln’s perspective with the Angelbound LINCOLN series!
OFFSPRING
The next generation takes on Heaven, Hell, and everything in MAXON, Book 1 of Angelbound Offspring!
FAIRY TALES OF THE MAGICORUM
A modern fairy tale that USA Today calls a ‘must-read!’ Check out WOLVES AND ROSES!
DIMENSION DRIFT
A kick-ass heroine + a swoon-worthy prince + an all-girl heist = the DIMENSION DRIFT series!
BEHOLDER
Medieval mages … Slow-burn love … And heart-pounding action! Check out the BEHOLDER series!
PIXIELAND DIARIES
PIXIELAND DIARIES tells the story of sassy pixie Calla and ‘her’ elf prince, Dare.
Armageddon - Sample Chapter
In my dream, I’m enveloped in total darkness. Terrified weeping echoes in my ears. The voices are shrill, soul-numbing, and relentless. They’re also oddly familiar.
Could that be my igni?
My igni make me the Great Scala, the only being who can move souls to Heaven or Hell. They’re also my personal alarm system, chattering mostly-unintelligible advice in times of danger. That said, they only babble warnings when I’m wide awake, and they always answer me when I call to them.
Not in this nightmare, though.
Whenever I call to the voices here, no one answers me. It’s irritating and not a little bit freaky. Steeling my shoulders, I decide to try once more.
“Are you crying, my little ones?” My words echo strangely in the heavy dark.
I hold my breath, anxious for any reply. None comes. The weeping only grows louder, until the voices gain the sharp, panicky edge of screams.
That’s it. No one’s going to answer me, yet again. My eyes prickle with tears of frustration and grief. Why won’t these dreams stop? And if it’s my igni crying, then why don’t they speak to me?
At last, I wake with a gasp. Beads of cold sweat drip down the small of my back, making me shiver.
Man, that nightmare was rough.
My husband Lincoln leans over me, his body weight propped onto his right arm. “Is everything okay?” His mismatched eyes are wide with worry. “You were thrashing around in your sleep.”
I force my breathing to slow. Calm down, Myla. It’s early morning and you’re safe in bed at Arx Hall. Everything is fine.
“I had another bad dream, that’s all.”
Lincoln gently kisses my forehead. “That’s the third time thi
s week. You’re working way too hard.”
“So are you, Your Highness.”
“You know what I mean. I’m King of the Thrax and father to the most rambunctious three-year old in the after-realms. That’s already a lot. But you’ve got all that and Soul Processing to manage.” He pins me with a worried look. “You don’t take care of yourself, Myla.”
Unfortunately, I know exactly where the ‘take care of yourself’ conversation goes. Doctors. Physicals. Needles. Not good.
I slap on what I hope is an über-healthy smile. “I’m part demon. I don’t have to take care of myself and I still look fabulous.”
A long pause follows in which Lincoln’s frown stays firmly in place. “If that was a joke, I didn’t find it humorous.”
“Hey, it was just another bad dream. No big deal.”
Total lie. These nightmares are driving me crazy, not that I’ll admit the truth to Lincoln. When I got pregnant with Maxon, I went through months of painful physicals that involved tons of needles, potions and prodding. At the end, the doctors decided they didn’t know dick about a pregnant Scala and all the hullabaloo was for nothing. I have avoided the entire medical community ever since. I intend to keep on doing so for the foreseeable future.
Lincoln glides his fingertips along my temple. “Did you have the same dream as last time?”
“All darkness and screaming, yeah.” A shiver rolls across my shoulders as I recall the terrified howls that overwhelmed my sleep. “I think it’s my igni.”
The Brutal Time Special Edition Page 23