My limbs quiver with shock. I knew Armageddon drained the souls of his victims, but watching him do it? Something else entirely.
Screams erupt from the Senate floor. The crowd makes a mad rush for the exit. I try to spot my mother in the frantic mob, but can’t find her. Terror crushes my rib cage, shortening my breath.
Armageddon’s eyes flare bright. “Go to work.” He waves his three-knuckled hands at the pack of Manus demons surrounding him. “Leave none alive.”
The demons swing their heavy arms high, attacking nearby Senators. More portals open. Ghouls step out, red-eyed Manus demons beside them.
Somewhere in the crush of bodies, Xavier appears, his arm wrapped protectively around Mom’s shoulders. I let out a ragged breath. She’s alright, at least for now.
Xavier drags her through the frantic press of bodies and demons. There are so many people in a frantic rush, no one seems to move at all. A group of Senators struggle to press through the main exit, their bodies stuck as everyone ties to leave the chamber at once. Raising its massive arms high, a Manus demon smashes through both the Senators and the granite wall, creating a larger exit. Mom and Xavier squeeze through the new doorway and race down the marble corridors beyond. Tim follows closely behind.
I watch my father scurry behind my mom and Xavier, my upper lip twisting with disgust. When Mom needed him, Tim was nowhere to be seen. But now that she has a way out, he’s the first to follow behind. It’s humiliating to share DNA with this worm.
Mom, Xavier, and Tim race down the corridor as portals open all about them. Manus demons and ghouls stream into the hallways, attacking every quasi they can find. The air rings with thuds and screams. Xavier turns down a quiet corridor and presses on the marble wall.
“There should be a panic room somewhere around here.” A marble panel pops open, revealing a small dusty space behind the wall. Xavier pulls Mom inside.
“Wait for me!” Tim squeezes in behind them.
I grit my teeth. What a douche-move from Tim.
Xavier slams the marble door shut. “You’ll be safe here for a while.”
Mom grips Tim’s arm. “My family’s waiting for me outside the cloak room. Can you portal to them and get them out?” Demon roars echo through the air. All the blood drains from Mom’s face. “Hurry.”
An image appears in my mind’s eye: the smiling Lewis faces from Mom’s swearing-in ceremony. My heart sinks. Of course, they’d be here today, supporting her through impeachment. There must be some way to save them. Mom’s family can’t die here.
Tim closes his large black eyes. “Our Group Think has changed. New voices claim to be the Oligarchy.” His forehead lines with thought. “Demons are overrunning Purgatory. All the Senators and their families are being killed.” His eyes slowly open. “I’m not authorized to open portals anymore.” The Manus howls grow louder. The walls and floor shake as they prowl and attack. Tim steps toward the wall, his lower lip trembling with fear. “I’m sorry, Camilla.”
I have the unladylike urge to spit at him. Coward.
“Fine. I’ll get them.” Mom turns to the marble door and starts prying it open with her fingernails.
Xavier wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back. “The hallway’s crawling with demons. You can’t go out there.”
“But I have to help my family!” Mom writhes under Xavier’s grip. Her eyes are wild and brimmed with tears.
I hug my elbows. Pangs of sadness strike my body like so many stones. There’s no way to stop this. Soon, Mom’s family—my family—will be destroyed.
A young girl’s screams echo in the outside hallway. Mom claws frantically at the door, her irises flaring red. “Dani!”
I remember the little wisp of a girl who was Vice President of Fun for the Lewis Family. The weight of my grief presses in harder and heavier, crushing something deep within me. Please, no.
Xavier wrestles Mom away from the door. “Camilla, you can’t go out there. You’ll be killed.”
“That’s my niece. She’s just a child. You have to let me go!”
Dani’s screams grow louder, then fall silent. The pounding and howls of the Manus demons fade.
Mom collapses onto the floor, sobbing. “They came here to support me through impeachment. What have I done?”
I grip my elbows so tightly, I’m surprised my bones don’t crack. My arms ache to reach into that past reality and hold her close, whispering I’m sorry, Mom, so sorry. I never could have imagined the horror of Armageddon’s war.
Xavier kneels beside her, his hand gently rubbing her back. “It wouldn’t have mattered where they were. You heard Walker. Demons have overrun Purgatory. All the Senator’s families have been targeted.” He rises to his feet, setting his hand on the marble doorway. “My heart goes out to you, Camilla.”
Mom looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Where are you going?”
Tim cowers against the wall. “They’ll kill you too, Xavier. You’re a quasi sympathizer, an enemy of the new state.” His voice breaks. “We’re all enemies of the state now. I hear it in Group Think.” His fingers shiver as they grip his robes.
I watch my ghoul-father tremble and realize that Tim did a brave thing in working with Mom. Most ghouls don’t consider quasis a legit form of life, let alone a potential boss. He took a risk because he cared about her, and now his life’s in danger.
Xavier presses his ear to the marble wall. “I helped build this place, remember? I know ways to leave without being seen. I’ll go to Armageddon and see what can be done.”
Mom looks up, her bottom lip quivering. “You mean the angels, right?”
Xavier shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You said you’d speak to Armageddon. You must mean you’ll talk to your people. The angels.”
Xavier offers Mom a sad smile. “Yes, of course. The angels.”
My forehead creases with confusion. Mom’s way too upset to notice, but the way he answered her question was a little suspicious. What did he mean by saying that he would talk to Armageddon?
Mom rises to her feet. “I’m going with you.”
“No, I do this alone or not at all.” His fingers glide along the marble panel, looking for the mechanism to open the door. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
The scene before me freezes. The figures change from flesh and bone back into sand. Little by little, their bodies crumble onto the Gray Sea. My dream fades into a place that’s black and empty. Sadness seeps into my heart.
Mom’s voice calls to me from the darkness of my dream. I awaken.
“Myla, can you hear me?”
I open my eyes. I’m lying on a plush bed inside a small and sturdy wooden house. The room’s filled with gilded furniture and delicate sculptures. Oriental rugs cover the floor. Mom stands beside me. The low chatter of many voices echoes in from the opened windows and door.
I shake my head from side to side, my brain still muddled with sleep. “Where am I?”
“The Queen’s cottage,” says Mom. “The thrax have been camping throughout this area.”
I pull myself up to sitting. “How long have I been here?”
“Since last night. I came as soon as I learned of your injury.”
My foggy brain tries to process Mom’s words. I must have passed out after Lincoln healed my back. And I’m just waking up now? “What was wrong with me?”
“You ran a high fever fighting the infection.” Mom presses her hand to my forehead. “But it broke about an hour ago. Did you sleep alright?”
Memories of Armageddon’s attack flicker through my mind. I grip Mom’s hand. “I had a dreamscape last night.”
I might as well have set off a bomb in the Queen’s chamber. At the sound of the word ‘dreamscape,’ the lively chatter of servants falls into perfect silence. The figures milling outside my window freeze. Expectation fills the air.
My mouth droops into a frown. Nice move, Myla. I’m in the Queen’s bedroom because the High P
rince put me here. Everyone must be dying to know why. Now I’m talking about dreamscapes, aka super-rare angel stuff. If I hired a carnival barker to stand outside my window and sell tickets, I couldn’t have a more interested audience.
Bending over, Mom whispers in my ear. “Can it wait until we get home?”
She doesn’t need to ask me twice. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Mom stands up straight, her voice steady and strong. “You were very fortunate, Myla. The doctors said you could have died.” She pauses, holding up one hand, waiting for any reaction from our hidden audience.
The silence around us turns deafening. Hells Bells. I’m still the marquee act in today’s performance of ‘what does the Prince want with that girl?’
Mom lets out a frustrated puff of air. “Show’s over folks. Get back to work or I call the Queen.”
Instantly, bodies begin to move again outside my window. Low chatter resumes in the hallway. I shoot Mom a hearty thumbs-up. She’s acting more and more like her old self every day. It’s awesome.
I flip off the covers and set my bare feet on the cold floor. “So, when do we leave?”
Mom rushes to my side, guiding my body back to lay down. “The doctors say you need to stay here and rest for a few days.” She tucks the covers under my chin.
“I feel fine. Really.”
Mom sits on the edge of the bed, her voice low. “Does this have to do with that thrax boy you were telling me about? I can’t imagine you’re thrilled to finish your recovery here.”
“No, it’s not about him.” But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s totally about him. After my weird lust-filled encounter last night, I want as much distance between us as possible. “I’m ready to go home, that’s all.”
Mom fluffs a pillow under my head. “Doctor’s orders, Myla-la. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. Maybe you can go home then.” She rises to her feet. “Get some rest, promise?”
I snuggle under the covers and grin. “Promise.”
Once Mom is gone, I slide out of bed and stretch, catching my reflection in a mirror. I’m now wearing a white linen nightgown. When did that happen?
I shrug. I suppose it’s better than waking up in my armor. I step about the elegant space, running my fingers over the heavy wallpaper and staring at the delicate sculptures. I walk up to the opened window. Rows of cottages stretch off into the distance, followed by a much larger network of fancy tents.
A knock sounds at the door. “May I come in?” It’s Lincoln.
My breath hitches. “Sure.”
The door opens and Lincoln steps inside. “Hello, Miss Lewis.” My body turns gooey. This can’t help my recovery.
“Hi.” I scope out his outfit: jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and leather boots. “Wow. You know about the twenty-first century.”
“That’s right, you’ve only seen me at official court events.” He gestures down his torso. “Welcome to my day off.”
“I like it.” I make the same gesture over my white sheath. “Welcome to this random nightgown someone put on me.” I frown. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
He grins. “I’ll never tell.”
A dumb part of me wants to smile back, but I stop myself and look out the window again. He’s still a creep.
Lincoln’s voice sounds behind me. “I wanted to check that you’re okay. Things were a little touch-and-go last night.” He lets out a long breath. “And you look fine.” There’s a long pause where I keep staring out the window and not talking to Lincoln. Don’t forget that he’s an ass, Myla. Not to mention that weirdness in the stables last night. I must’ve had an allergic reaction to the neurotoxin. My inner demon is wrath only, end of story.
The floorboards creak softly as Prince shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll take my leave now.”
His footsteps thud as he walks away. Something in my rib cage tightens. For some reason, I don’t want him to go.
“Hey.” I spin around to face him. He stands by door; his hand grips the handle. Our gazes lock. “Thanks for…You know.”
He arches his brows. “Saving your life?”
“Yes, that.” I half-smile and realize something: it’s hard to hate someone who saved your life, especially if that someone gives a mean massage.
“No problem.” He folds his arms over his chest. “We’re running a special this month on magical horses and lifesaving.”
I full-on grin. “You have a sense of humor. Somehow I didn’t expect that.”
He looks at me out of his slate-blue eye. “Well, it’s not like I wowed you with my dazzling personality when we met.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No, you didn’t.”
“In fact, I was closed-minded and awful for far too long. I’m very sorry.”
I screw my mouth onto one side of my face. He’s not getting off the hook that easily. “No more nasty ‘demon girl’ comments?”
Straightening his stance, he sets his hand over his heart. “Never again.” He winks. “I got a stern talking to from my mother about that.” His full mouth winds into a crafty grin. “And you know how she can be.”
Dammit, he just got off the hook. “Yes, I do.” I laugh.
He steps closer. “How about we start over?” He bows slightly. “Hello, I’m Lincoln.”
I pause, eyeing him carefully. Why not?
“Myla Lewis.”
He offers his hand. “Friends?”
I set my palm on his. “Friends.” His skin feels warm and firm. I remember his touch on the small of my back, then quickly drop his hand. “I guess I’m stuck here for the next few days.” I shrug. “I don’t feel all that sick though.”
“I have a very over-protective court physician.” Mischief dances in his mismatched eyes.
I poke him in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Did you get me out of school?”
He leans against the wall, hitching his right leg across the left. “If I did, it would be justified as an extra tournament reward.”
“So, what’s there to do around here, friend?”
“Want to take Nightshade for a ride?”
I pause, tilting my head to one side. Memories of his touch simmer in the back of my mind. I need to be careful. No more bizarre lust demon episodes, particularly with guys who only just proved they aren’t total jerks. But hey, friends do stuff like ride horses around. We can do that.
I nod once. “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll have some riding togs sent over.”
“Pants, please.” I’ve seen these thrax ladies riding side-saddle in long dresses. Not my thing.
He grins. “I’ll make sure they offer you a wide selection.”
“Great.” I yawn and stretch. “See you at the stables in an hour?”
“You don’t need more time to get ready?”
I sniff. “Do I look like that girl to you?”
He chuckles. “No, you don’t.” He swings open the door. “In an hour, then.”
Lincoln steps out the door. An army of servants pour into the cottage, all wearing traditional gowns and tunics. They bring me food, things to wear and fill up a copper tub for a bath. I wash, have a snack, and decide to dress in brown leather pants, tall black boots, and a corseted red blouse. My long auburn hair is tied back with a black velvet ribbon.
I find the stables. Lincoln stands outside with Nightshade and a sleek black Arabian horse.
“I’d like you to meet Bastion.” He gestures to the black horse.
“He’s a beauty.” I pat the horse’s neck. “Another from the House of Striga?” I comb my fingers comb his silky mane.
“Yes. I didn’t raise him, but we’re still very close.” He adjusts Bastion’s saddle, and then runs his hand through the horse’s mane as well. Our fingers brush; the touch is a shock of connection.
I pull my hand away quickly, my heart thudding at double-speed. I catch Lincoln’s gaze, seeing intensity there. His hand didn’t move against mine by accident. Suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about what it woul
d be like to kiss him. Focus, Myla. You only want to be friends with this guy. Time to change the subject. “How’s the Furor?”
A smile dances in Lincoln’s eyes. “Much better. He still hasn’t changed form, but we moved him to the palace infirmary all the same.”
“I’m glad.”
Nightshade trots up beside me, tossing her bluish-gray head from side to side. I get the feeling she’s anxious to run. Gripping her saddle, I haul myself onto her back.
Lincoln does the same with Bastion. “Ready?”
My heart decides that now is a good time to beat so hard, a whoosh of blood sounds in my ears. Ready for what, exactly? Friendship, trouble, something else?
I grip the reins more tightly and work hard at acting cool. “Sure. Where to?”
“Follow me.” Lincoln clicks his tongue. Our horses take off at a gallop.
Nightshade’s hooves thunder beneath me as Lincoln and I tear through the compound. Thrax poke their heads out tent flaps and windowsills as we ride by. They don’t get cable out here, so I guess the Prince’s afternoon ride qualifies as entertainment.
The ground opens up into rolling hills covered in greenish-yellow grass. Smooth gray clouds cover the sky. Nightshade and Bastion fall into in a slower rhythm, every breath and hoof-fall in perfect sync. A line of hedges looms ahead.
Lincoln glances over his shoulder, smiling in a way that I feel down to my toes. His wavy brown hair dances across his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and firm jawline. He nods to the low wall of green. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to–”
I dig my thighs into Nightshade’s barrel. “Hyah!” My horse races toward the hedge.
Behind me, Lincoln clicks his tongue. The thrum of Bastion’s hoof-falls sounds behind me, drawing nearer by the second. The hedges close in. Nightshade shifts her weight onto her back legs, and then springs forward. There’s the weightless joy of flying through the air, followed by the heavy thud as we hit the ground. Lincoln lands a second behind me. I pull Nightshade’s reins so we circle Lincoln and Bastion. “And that is me kicking your butt!”
Angelbound Page 23