Angelbound

by Christina Bauer

  “I understand, sweetie.”

  I slump into the old office chair and watch dust motes float through the beam of light from the opened door. Somewhere an old-fashioned clock ticks away. I stare into the shadows, imagining ghostly Lewis eyes peeping at me in fear. My skin puckers into gooseflesh. Cissy gently rests her hand on my arm.

  “Hey, I might have something to cheer you up.” She slides an envelope out of her pocket. “I totally shouldn’t do this.”

  I look at her out of my right eye. “Do what?”

  “Everyone’s freaking out in the East Wing. The thrax reserved the mansion for some event to celebrate autumn, but the ghoul minister’s kicking them out. No one wants to tell a bunch of demon fighters that they can’t use the house.” She taps the sealed envelope against her palm and looks at me expectantly. “I’m supposed to give this to one of the other Furor fighters to deliver.”

  Thrax? Message? I smell payback.

  I shoot Cissy my most innocent grin. “You’re right. It would totally cheer me up to go on a little errand.”

  “That’s my Myla.” Cissy starts to hand me the letter, and then she pulls it back. “Don’t be surprised if they’re a little cranky about the change.”

  “Oh, I can handle it.” I scoop the envelope from her hands. Zipping down my fighting suit, I set the letter against my collarbone, then zip it up again. “I’m on it.”

  “One more thing. The thrax are really into their traditions. To get into their compound, you have to wear a dress and ride a horse.” Her face lands somewhere between a wince and a smile. “This could be a nice change of pace for you. Getting dressed up and all.”

  I open my mouth to spill the truth: I’m not dress-girl or horse-lady. Sure, I love sneaking into the Ryder stables to kill Doxy demons, but I have no idea how to touch a horse, let alone ride it. But then I shut my yap. Screw it. I’d say just about anything for this payback fiesta. “That sounds like such a nice idea, Cissy.”

  “And won’t tell anyone I let you do this, okay?”

  “Never.”

  “Good.” She rocks back on her heels, setting her golden ringlets swinging. “There are some thrax horses in the Ryder stables. I guess they’re enchanted or something. I hear they basically ride themselves, if you know what I mean.”

  Some little part of me feels guilty for misleading Cissy here when she’s trying to be nice, but my inner demon has that little part of me in a sleeper hold. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Cissy and I leave the mansion, hike past the hedgerow maze, and head toward a long and thin building on the outer grounds: the Ryder stables. A great wooden door marks the entrance; Cissy hauls it open. Inside, there’s a long central aisle with about a dozen stalls on either side.

  I walk up the main aisle, peeking in the different stalls. Dry hay crunches beneath my feet. “I’ve always wondered. Why do the Ryders have stables anyway? Zeke never talks about riding and his parents only seem to love tennis.”

  “It’s for guests. Thrax aren’t the only ones who like to travel by horse. Some ghouls and demons do it too. Normally, there are only a few horses in residence, but with the thrax in town, the stables are almost always full these days.”

  I look at the different horses, reading the names printed above the stalls. “Moon Shadow. Firelight. Eugene.”

  “That last one is a demon horse. Don’t go near it.”

  My brows arch with admiration. “You’re a fountain of diplomatic information, Miss Frederickson.”

  Cissy grins. “Zeke’s parents have taught me all sorts of stuff. It’s really interesting.”

  A horse with a bluish-gray coat steps out of a nearby stall. She prances up to me and whinnies.

  I smile. I’d know this horse anywhere. She’s been a target of the Doxy demons for months. They love to snarl her mane and tail; I love to play her personal demon exterminator. I run my fingers through the horse’s silky black mane. “What’s your name, lovely?”

  Cissy steps up to the now-empty stall. “She’s a thrax horse. Her name’s Nightshade.” Cissy peeps inside. “I wonder how she got out of her stall.”

  I shrug. “You said the horses were enchanted. Maybe they can do magic.”

  Nightshade couches onto the stable floor. Her big black eyes stare at me in a way that says ‘climb on.’

  My body buzzes with excitement. I quickly slip onto into Nightshade; her back feels warm and steady below me as she rises to her feet. The next moment, Nightshade begins walking toward the stable doors. A sense of calm and ease washes over me. I feel as if I’ve ridden on her all my life. Grinning, I loop my fingers through her mane and whisper in a low voice. “Take me to the thrax.” She rears on her hind legs.

  Cissy frowns. “Not yet, Myla. You’re supposed to wear a gown!”

  Nightshade gallops toward the stable exit. I look over my shoulder and wave. “I’ll figure something out!”

  I’m pretty sure Cissy screams something at me, but I can’t hear her. Okay, maybe I could hear her if I tried, but I’m riding a freaking horse! Nightshade’s muscles shift beneath me in drum-roll rhythm. The wind whirls across my face, roars in my ears and dances through my long auburn hair. It’s nothing less than glorious.

  Nightshade and I pound over the rolling hills behind the Ryder mansion. Exhilaration bubbles through my bloodstream. We thrum across vast fields of high grass. After a short ride, her pace starts to slow.

  A trio of purple tents appears on the horizon. They’re all large and held in place by sturdy poles, more like circus tents than camping stuff. A line of tall pine trees looms to their right. Nightshade slows to a halt.

  “Are we here, Night?”

  The horse nickers.

  I release my fingers from her mane, slide down the horse’s barrel and pick my way toward the nearest tent. Everything looks deserted. A girl in a yellow gown steps out from the line of trees. She’s tall and willowy with long blonde hair.

  I wave my arms. “Hello, there!”

  The girl stops, eyeing me from head to toe. “Are you lost too? I’ve lived here for months and I still can’t find my way around. This place is huge.”

  I step closer. “Yes, I’m lost. Kind of.”

  She grins. “Forgive my bad manners.” She curtsies. “I’m Lady Avery. Who are you?” She blinks her large eyes, one green and one brown.

  “I’m Myla.” I stare at her for a moment. “You look familiar.”

  “I’m the younger sister of the Great Scala Heir.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” I flash my most winning smile. “I’m looking for Prince Lincoln. I have an important message for him.”

  She shifts her weight onto her right leg. “He’s at a thrax-only event. You’re not supposed to go unless you’re invited.” She scans my black fighting suit. “And unless you’re wearing proper dress.”

  “Of course, I was invited to today’s…” I look at her encouragingly.

  “Battle practice with the young Lords?”

  Not a bright one, that Avery.

  “Exactly. That’s totally what I was invited to. And I got an official exception for the dress thing.”

  Avery frowns. “I’ve never heard of an official exception.”

  “I have a skin condition. This suit was, uh, prescribed by my doctor.” I hold out my hand. “You should stand back. It’s kind of contagious.”

  “Oh, my!”

  “Where’s the practice again?”

  “That way.” She points to a rocky hill across from the tall pines. “I’m heading there myself. Now that my sister’s the Scala Heir, I’m the Great Lady for the House of Acca.” She beams and tosses her hair. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  I plaster my smile back on. “It sure is.” I take off at a run. “I’ll see you there!”

  “Okay. Goodbye, Myla!”

  I speed up the rocky incline, my heart thudding with anticipation. I summit the small hill and scope out the ground below. A flat patch of green field opens before me. Lincoln stands in its cente
r, surrounded by four men in velvet tunics of bronze, yellow, purple, and blue. They all look in their late teens. The Queen waits on the sidelines, motionless and regal in her black velvet gown. The Great Ladies encircle her, still wearing their multi-colored dresses from the initiation. Adair has changed into a simple white robe.

  In the center of the field, Lincoln flips a wooden practice sword in his hand. Raising his arm high, he demonstrates a slicing technique to the young Lords. Everyone’s attention is focused on the lesson. I picture what’ll happen once I introduce myself. My mouth winds into a semi-evil grin.

  Now’s my chance.

  I stride down the rocky hill and raise my arm high. “Hello, there! I have a message for the–”

  The Acca Lord shakes his blonde head. “A demon! I shall protect you, my Prince!” He races toward me, arms outstretched.

  I watch my opponent, shaking my head in disbelief. This is his total plan? Run up and grab me? That’s way too easy. I wait until he’s close, then leap up into the air and kick my heels forward. My boots connect with his chest. The Acca Lord tumbles onto his ass, gasping for breath. I somersault backwards, land on my feet and keep walking.

  My grin stretches even wider. I love that move.

  I keep a steady stride toward Lincoln, scanning the field as I go. The Queen and ladies stand immobile and stunned on the sidelines. The three remaining Lords bob on their heels, waiting for their turn to attack. Lincoln stares at me, his mismatched eyes filled with cool menace.

  Good.

  “Stop now, foul demon!” It’s the Horus Lord this time. His 250 pounds of solid muscle barrel straight for me.

  I size up his approach. This one will be a little more interesting.

  Once the Horus Lord is almost upon me, I bend over at the waist. My tail wraps around my attacker’s neck, spinning him 360 degrees. With a heavy thud, he lands back-first onto the field. A low groan fills the air.

  I wince. Okay, that might be a concussion. Oops.

  I resume my forward march. Lincoln’s only a few yards away now. Lord Kamal takes up the cry. At least he has the sense to grab a wooden sword.

  Weapons. That mixes it up.

  I stop, set my weight on my right leg and cross my arms over my chest. Kamal races up to me, his sword raised high above his head.

  “Die, you demon sc–”

  My tail punches him in the gut. At least I think it was the gut. Eh, I wasn’t really paying close attention. Lord Kamal crouches into a fetal position and falls over onto the ground, moaning.

  I step up to the Striga Lord. “Are you gonna try anything?”

  The young Lord shakes his head vigorously, causing the purple beads in his hair to jingle. “No, your ladyship.”

  “Good.”

  I turn to Lincoln. His stance is rigid; his face is still as stone. Raising my hand, I unzip the top of my suit. Gasps sound from the Great Ladies. I can’t help but smile just a little bit. I slide the envelope out from under my suit and hand it over. The Prince grips the letter, his face unreadable.

  “Message for you from the Ghoul Minister. It’s urgent.” I bow slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you real warriors to fight it out.” I walk away, and maybe I shake my hips a wee bit more than necessary.

  As I cross the field, I scan the faces of the Great Ladies. All their mouths curl in unflattering looks of shock and disgust. Adair looks especially ugly. Sweet.

  The Queen watches me too, but unlike the Great Ladies, a satisfied grin rounds her mouth. My tail waves goodbye to her. She nods slightly in return.

  Avery appears at the top of the rocky hill. “I’m here, everyone!” She waves. “Did I miss anything?”

  I shoot her a hearty thumbs-up. “Not much. Catch you later.”

  Avery curtsies. “Goodbye, Myla. I hope your skin condition improves.”

  “Oh, it has.” I feel tons better already.

  I hike over the hill, finding Nightshade waiting for me by the nearest tent. She paws the ground with her front hoof in a move that says ‘let’s vamoose.’

  “I’m ready to go, too.” I wind my fingers through her mane and haul myself onto her back. Nightshade gallops over the fields and hills. All too soon, we’re trotting down my street. Nightshade stops by my front door; I slide off her barrel.

  “Thank you, Night.” She nuzzles into my neck. I brush her mane with my fingers and sigh. Nightshade is the best. “I’m so glad you found me, girl.”

  She whinnies softly and takes off at a gallop.

  When I walk through my front door, the house is quiet and empty. I roam the rooms until I find a note from Mom on the kitchen table. She’s running errands with Walker and won’t be home until late. I make myself a quick bite to eat and slip into bed, a peaceful smile on my face for the first time in recent memory. You don’t get many chances to kick ass like I did today. The only thing that could’ve made it better would be video.

  ***

  Once I close my eyes, my dreams return me to the Gray Sea. I stand on a familiar stretch of dark sand beside a tall stonewall. Crouching low, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A circle of white fire erupts from the ground. From its center rises the form of my mother made from sand. She sits at a desk.

  The earth continues to rise, the granules building into the shape of an office.

  The circle of fire flares higher, then disappears. The moving sand transforms into flesh and blood. The scene before me comes to life.

  Mom looks up from her desk. “Hello, Tim.” She runs her fingertips along the neckline of her blue suit.

  Tim’s gaze follows the movement of her fingers across her chest. “You should call me TIM-29.” His voice comes out a little husky.

  I’m no lust expert, but it’s possible that Tim has a thing for my Mom. My stomach lurches. Could this guy be my father?

  “I’ve been calling you Tim for six months now, that isn’t going to change.” She smiles. Her face looks animated, alive, and dazzling.

  I scratch my neck, my head wagging from side to side. I still can’t believe this is the same person who conducts my Maternal Inquisition each morning.

  Tim bows again. “As you wish, Senator.”

  “For the hundredth time, call me Camilla.”

  Tim shakes his head. “No, that wouldn’t be right, Senator.” He gingerly sets a cup of coffee onto her desktop.

  “Thank you.”

  Tim leans over Mom’s head and inhales deeply. He whispers one word: “Lavender.”

  Hair-smelling? That confirms it. Tim definitely has a thing for Mom.

  “What did you say?” She scribbles away on a pad.

  “Nothing, Senator.” He takes a few quick steps backwards. “Xavier Cross is in the waiting room, again. He insists on seeing you.”

  Mom sighs. “He has an appointment in a month.”

  I’ve heard that sigh, many times. Whoever this guy is, he’s getting on Mom’s last nerve.

  Tim grips his hands at his waist. “He wants to see you today.”

  A rotary phone on the desk begins to ring. Mom sets her hand on the receiver and looks to Tim. “Please tell him to wait one month.” Tim nods and leaves the room.

  Mom picks up her phone. “Senator Lewis speaking.” She swivels her chair so she faces the wall. “Yes, Ambassador. I understand the complaint.”

  On the opposite side of the room, the door swings open. A man slides through. He’s tall and fit with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of milky cocoa. He adjusts the lapels of his gray suit.

  Still facing the wall, Mom continues her phone call. “I understand the demand, but we cannot guarantee that a particular soul will go to Hell. I’ll certainly pass the request to Senator Myung.”

  Damn, she’s not taking shizz from that caller. My brows arch. This is the same woman who now spends an hour to choose a frozen dinner from the freezer. I never imagined she could be so decisive.

  The stranger walks around the room, studying the pictures lining the walls,
his long arms clasped behind him. He moves with a calculated grace that I find oddly soothing.

  Mom kicks at the base of the wall, her features cringing into her ‘exasperated face.’ She takes a deep breath. “Senator Myung holds the Afterlife Management seat, I head Other-Realm Diplomacy. As I’ve told you before, I have no formal say in this matter but I promise to make your request known.” She pauses, listening. “Excellent, goodbye.” She slams the receiver onto the phone. “Hells bells! That’s the fourth time this week.” She twists about in her chair, seeing the stranger in her office for the first time.

  Mom’s chocolate eyes narrow into slits. “And you are?”

  The man reaches out his hand. “Xavier Cross.”

  Mom doesn’t flinch. “You have an appointment in one month, Mister Cross. Tim should have stopped you.”

  Xavier seats himself in a chair across from Mom’s desk. “It won’t take five minutes, I promise.” He smiles. His face is handsome with a square jaw and high cheekbones.

  Mom stares at him, her lips pursed. “Five minutes.” She glances at her watch. “Go.”

  I click my tongue. Nice move, Mom!

  Xavier taps his knee with his pointer finger. “You’re new to the Senate, aren’t you?”

  “My family’s held the Senate Diplomacy Seat for eight hundred years, but yes, I’ve served in this particular role for six months.”

  “I saw your pictures on the walls. Annual Lewis family picnics.”

  “Yes, we’re a close group. Four minutes.”

  “And you have a ghoul assistant.” The look in his eyes says ‘and that’s the stupidest idea ever.’ My eyes flash with anger. Leave my Mom alone.

  Mom drums her fingers on the table, her face the picture of cool. “I drive connections across all the five realms: Heaven, Hell, Antrum, the Dark Lands, and Purgatory. Most of my staff are members of the Lewis family, but I’m extending my team to other realms as well. Three minutes.”

  “Do you trust that ghoul?”

  A muscle twitches along Mom’s jaw. “Mister Cross, what exactly is this about?”

  There’s something in her tone that’s protective of Tim, maybe even loving. My possible ghoul dad. Barf.