“Here we are.” I slide off Nightshade and try the door. It’s locked.
I frown. “Well, I should’ve seen that coming.”
Lincoln turns to Nightshade “Do you mind helping us out, girl?”
The horse whinnies and the doorknob disappears. That’s right; I forgot Nightshade does magic.
I push open the door and step inside. Moonlight glints off the trees, vines and shrubbery that line the greenhouse floor. My mouth winds with a satisfied grin. This place is closed to the public, so, of course, I’ve wanted to break in for ages. I steal a glance at Lincoln; my heart kicks. It’s nice to have a partner in crime. Tiptoeing around the greenery, I lead him toward the massive tree at the building’s center, all the while thinking how we’re alone, it’s dark, and he looks mighty handsome in the moonlight. My heart rate goes through the roof.
“And here we are.” I bow slightly. “The very rare and beautiful Tumtum tree.” Reaching out, I brush my hands down the old tree’s gnarled bark, feeling the life and energy under its skin. “You only find them in Purgatory.”
Lincoln nudges me with his elbow. “You’re trouble, Myla Lewis.” He leans forward, his mouth curling into a snarky grin that turns my insides into goo.
My eyes narrow. I’m not gooey enough to let that comment slide, however.
Stepping back, I fold my arms across my chest and slap on a look of righteous indignation. “I am not trouble. We’re here on a mission of mercy.”
“Really now?”
I point to a white sign nailed to the center of the trunk. “See? This poor thing has a huge ‘do not climb me’ sign, and that’s just not right. If anything ever screamed ‘climb me now,’ it’s this particular tree.”
Lincoln leans back on his heel. “You have a point.”
“Of course, I do.” I grip the knobby trunk and start to climb. Lincoln scales the opposite side.
I swing myself so I balance standing on a horizontal branch. “First one to touch the ceiling wins.”
Lincoln finds a new toehold in the bark and scales upwards. “You’re on.”
A jolt of excitement runs through me. He’s not telling me to leave and be safe, he’s not chickening out; he’s actually racing me to the top. I’m so distracted and happy, I almost tumble off the branch, catching myself at the last second. I return my attention to the trunk and begin to climb.
As we race along, I know this is one competition I should win easily: I have an extra appendage, after all. But I keep holding back, angling for a better view of Lincoln’s firm thighs and muscled back as he scales higher. Bands of heat writhe within my core. Finally, I stop moving altogether and admit the obvious truth. My inner Furor demon is wrath and lust. For some reason, Lincoln’s the guy who brings them both to life.
Man, am I in trouble.
Voices sound from the countryside. “Prince Lincoln!” I look out the greenhouse window. Torch-light appears on the horizon.
There’s a search party out for Lincoln. Yipes.
Lincoln slides down the trunk, landing at the base of the tree. He turns to me and reaches upwards. “Do you need a hand, Myla?”
Honestly, I’m perfectly capable of jumping off this tree all by my lonesome. I stare at Lincoln’s ropy arms and firm chest, my lust demon roaring ever louder inside me. Suddenly, I want to touch him so badly, I’d use any excuse at all.
“Sure.” I scale down for a bit, then step off the trunk and into Lincoln’s arms. My body slowly slides down his. Each contour of his chest brushes against my breast and belly. Desire ricochets through me, heating my core.
Hellooooo, lust demon.
I lick my lips slowly. “Thanks, Lincoln.”
“You’re welcome.” Up close he smells earthy, all forest pine and leather. He winds his hands around my waist. “I meant what I said today, Myla.”
My face flushes with surprise and heat. He’s not talking about that again, is he? Our almost kiss? “You mean when we were talking about beating?”
His hand slides up my back; a shiver of desire runs through me. “About beating as challenging. My subjects complain, but no one pushes me to be better. You did that, even when you hated me.” He smiles. “Especially when you hated me.” His fingers weave through the hair at the base of my neck. “Does that make sense?”
I meet his mismatched eyes and realize yes, I know exactly what he means. I’ve spent my life hoping the way my world runs would be tolerated, not looking for someone to race me. Who knew anyone like Lincoln was possible? I want to say all this, but my throat tightens. I only manage five words: “Yes, it does. Very much.”
His eyes almost glow with intensity. “I like this. Feeling like I have a peer, a partner.” He cups my face in his hands. “I like you, Myla.” My knees turn watery beneath me. I like you, too.
He pulls my mouth onto his and damn, it feels good. His lips are soft and the touch of his tongue along mine is electric. My heart starts thudding like crazy. I grip his t-shirt and ball the fabric in my fists. Our kiss deepens. Off on the horizon, a bolt of lightning strikes the earth, followed by a low roll of thunder. The flash of light snaps us out of the moment. We step apart.
I shake my head. “That’s weird. It’s not supposed to storm tonight.”
“Prince Lincoln!” The voices outside grow louder.
Lincoln sighs. “We better go.”
We leave the greenhouse, remount our horses and ride back to the thrax compound. All around, voices call for Prince Lincoln. More torches flash in the darkness. Lincoln rides up beside me and grabs Nightshade’s reins. “Your cottage is past those trees. You should go; I’ll take care of Night.”
I give Lincoln a silent thumbs-up and tiptoe to my cottage door. The room is cozy, warm, and inviting. I change into my new nightie, slip under the covers, and quickly fall asleep, smiling my face off the entire time.
***
I awaken the next morning to the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s not happy, which means one thing: I’m in trouble.
“Myla.” Mom taps my shoulder. “Come on, wake up.”
I open my eyes, looking as innocent as possible. “Good morning, Mom.”
Her mouth thins to an angry line. “What happened yesterday?”
She’s getting right down to business. Correction: I’m in deep trouble.
“Nothing. I just sat in here, minding my own business.” I force myself to cough. Twice. “Recovering. Why?”
“Reperio demons were released at the Scala winter feast last night. The same ones that went missing from your school yesterday. It caused quite a ruckus.”
“A ruckus, huh? They should have better security.” I do my best to shiver. “I heard the screaming around dinnertime. It was so frightening; I stayed in here and did homework.”
Mom’s brown eyes narrow. “I see. What kind of homework?”
“Very important…Homework.” I’m not exactly a wiz thinking on my feet, unless it involves killing something.
“Humph. The Ryders reported that someone broke into their botanical gardens last night too.”
“No way. That’s shocking!”
“You’re a terrible liar, Myla.”
I shoot her a grin and maybe it’s a bit too cocky. “Hey, I have my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“We’re going home. Now.”
My smile fades. I guess I knew it would end this way all along, but it’s still a bummer to leave early.
Mom grabs my little pile of things and walks out of the cottage. I slip into my sweats and follow her outside. Everyone’s awake and peeping their heads outside their windows or fancy tent-flaps. Lincoln stands in front of his cottage, leaning against the doorjamb. He wears a fitted white t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. My hands itch to touch his chest. Now.
Mom marches over to Betsy and revs her engine. I follow her to the car, feeling Lincoln’s eyes on me. I shoot him a glance as I slide into the front seat. He winks; I blush. Damn, yesterday was a lot of fun.
We drive past a long
line of cottages. The Great Ladies stand outside them, each one wearing a long nightgown in her house’s color. If looks were needles, I’d be a pincushion right now.
I’m going home a day early, but that was worth it. Absolutely.
Mom taps the steering wheel with her nails. “If you’re well enough to cause trouble, you’re well enough to learn. I’m dropping you off at school.”
I open my mouth, ready to explain why I need to spend the afternoon recovering and watching TV. “Well, I…You have to understand, it…”
Mom purses her lips. “I can’t want to hear this.”
“You know what?” I lean back in my seat. “I’ve got nothing. Drop me off at school.”
Mom cracks the tiniest smile. “They shouldn’t have demons in a classroom anyway.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to go to school?”
“Nice try.”
I hit school sometime after lunch. Cissy spots me the second my sneakers hit the hallway. “It’s good to see you feeling better, sweetie.” She plants a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks, Cissy.”
“So I thought you weren’t coming back to school until tomorrow. What happened?”
What happened? Lincoln happened. Heat climbs into my cheeks as I remember the Prince’s kiss and his sweet words. Not that I’m telling Cissy anything about that. The last thing I need is the return of the envy monster. I clear my throat. “I felt better.”
Cissy sets her hand on my arm. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”
I force a cough. “Yeah, I’m fine. Still recovering.” Hells bells, could I be any more suspicious?
Cissy gives my arm a gentle pat. “Don’t push yourself, sweetie.”
I exhale. “You’re so right.” And so not suspecting anything. Sweet.
“Oh, you won’t believe what happened at school. Someone stole all the Biology demons.”
“No. Way.” I grin, my eyes flaring red. Talking about kissing Lincoln? A bad idea. Bragging about stealing Reperio? A requirement.
“Hells bells! Myla, did you have something to do with that?”
“I most surely did.” I wag my eyebrows up and down. “I totally stole the Reperio and released them at a thrax dinner. Isn’t that the best idea in the history of ever?”
Cissy sighs. “I won’t lecture you on why that was completely insane. If you’d been caught, it would have been another diplomatic nightmare. Not to mention the fact that stealing from school is illegal.”
I click my tongue. “This is one of your non-lecture-lectures, isn’t it?”
Cissy tries to grimace, but smiles instead. “You are trouble, Myla Lewis.”
Funny, that’s what Lincoln said too. I remember the Prince’s kiss and feel all fuzzy inside. I must have a pretty goofy look on my face, because once I return my attention to Cissy, she’s now suspecting something, big time.
“Why’d you release demons at a thrax dinner?” She smacks her lips. “Does this have anything to do with Prince Lincoln?”
Play it cool, Myla. “Oh, him? He’s just a friend.” A friend that I kissed once and now want to strip down and lick, that’s all.
“Are you holding out on me?” Her eyes flare red.
Wooo-ee. I need to vamoose before she goes all envy demon on me. “Sorry, Cissy. I gotta run or I’ll be late.” Turning on my heel, I rush off before she has a chance to stop me.
Whew. That was close.
Chapter Seventeen
“Good morning, Myla. You’re called to serve.”
I open my eyes and yawn. “Hey there, Walker. I haven’t seen you in ages.” In fact, the last time I saw him was three months ago, when I fought Deacon in the Arena and almost tackled Lincoln. Who knew I’d end up kissing the guy? Since then, I’ve gone to both the thrax autumn and winter tournaments. Time has flown.
Now it’s just a few days after celebrations for the New Year. Too long, really, between visits from my honorary undead older brother. Normally he sneaks me in to see someone else’s match at the Arena at least once a month.
I mock-frown. “I’ve missed you, Walker.”
My heart thumps sadly. I miss Lincoln, too. I haven’t heard a word from him since the winter tournament two weeks ago. It’s really bumming me out that I was some kind of one-kiss-stand for him. Nightshade’s now a permanent resident at the Ryder stables; I take her out for regular jaunts near the thrax compound. Each time, I hope to run into a particular someone, but no such luck. I’m too proud to do more than that.
I let out a low sigh. Okay, I’m actually not too proud to do more than that, but the thrax have their little campground on some kind of mega lock-down these days.
Walker sizes me up carefully. “I’ve missed you as well.” He rubs his long sideburns. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
I flip off my covers and set my toes on the chilly floor. “Why’s that?”
“You’re the greatest warrior in Antrum.”
“Oh, yeah.” I step over to my dresser, open the top drawer and pull out my golden breastplate. “Queen Octavia hooked me up with armor and a spot in the tournament.” I set the breastplate over my gray nightgown and model it for Walker. “I took out an Arachnoid in this thing.”
Walker grins. “I wish I could have seen it.”
I wink. “Perhaps another time.” I carefully set the breastplate back into my drawer. “So, who am I fighting today?”
Walker lowers his voice. “I have a surprise for you. We’re actually seeing an iconigration.”
I clasp my hands. “No. Way.” Iconigrations are when the Scala moves multiple souls to Heaven or Hell at once. I’ve only seen these a few times. Mega cool.
“Oh, I found a way.” He sets one finger over his mouth in a ‘shh’ face. “Just don’t tell your mother what we’re up to.”
I mime zipping my mouth shut. “Got it.” Mom freaks out when I do anything different. I have a feeling an iconigration would send her through the roof.
“See you in a bit.” Walker steps out my bedroom door, careful to close it behind him.
I shower, change into my fighting suit, and walk into the kitchen, a smarmy smile on my face. Iconigrations are the best.
Mom sits at the table, holding a mug of steaming coffee. She takes one look at me and frowns. “What’s going on, Myla?”
I put on my best ‘innocent face’: eyes wide and blinking like mad. “Walker’s taking me to the Arena for another death-match. You know, the usual.” A pile of Demon bars sit on the counter. I grab one and dive in.
“Did you have any strange dreams last night?”
“Nope.”
“Make any new friends?”
Besides the thrax High Prince?
“Cissy’s still my best friend, Mom.” Misleading but true.
Mom rounds on Walker. “What soul is she battling this morning?”
“The CEO of a financial conglomerate back on earth. Nasty fellow.” Unlike me, Walker’s a really good liar.
Mom eyes me carefully for a full minute. Her fingers slowly drum the tabletop. “I suppose it’s all right.”
Sweeeeeeeeeet.
I swallow my last bite of breakfast. “Let’s get going.”
Walker lowers his head. A crackling sound fills the air as a portal opens by our fridge. I take Walker’s hand in mine.
“See you later, Mom.”
She looks at me out of her right eye. “Uh-huh.” After my little performance with the Reperio demons, she’s on constant sneak-alert for everything I do. Not that I blame her.
Walker and I step into the portal, tumble through empty space, and walk out again into a darkened archway off the Arena floor. I’m actually starting to like portal travel.
I lean against the stone wall and look out across the stadium. Everything’s deserted.
“There used to be great ceremonies before an iconigration,” says Walker. “Now the Scala shows up, creates soul-columns and leaves.”
A low hiss echoes through the air. A portal open
s along the Arena’s top level. Through it steps the tallest ghoul I’ve ever seen and someone I never wanted to see again: Armageddon.
I turn to Walker. “What’s tall, dark, and demonic doing here?”
He shrugs. “He comes to see his son sometimes.”
My tail arcs over my shoulder. My body goes on full alert.
Another figure steps out from the portal: a tiny woman in a high-necked red silk gown with a bustle on the back. She looks like something from earth in the 1800s, except for her pink skin, pig-snout nose, and tiny black eyes. Her hair’s a long piggy tail that winds into a bun behind her head. In her hoof-hand she holds a silver briefcase.
Armageddon, a ghoul and a few Manus demons all seat themselves in the black marble balcony. The King of Hell snaps his fingers over his shoulder. “Clementine. Now.” The pig-demon rushes onto the balcony, taking her seat beside Armageddon’s black stone throne. She opens the briefcase in her lap and fiddles with whatever’s inside. A high-pitched buzz rings softly in the air.
I nod to Walker. “What do you think Armageddon’s up to?”
“Who knows? He’s always doing strange things. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Humph. That attitude got Purgatory overrun in the first place.
A long portal opens in the center of the Arena floor. Through it steps six ghouls carrying a fancy stretcher. The old Scala lays atop the makeshift cot in his white robes, fast asleep. A thin white blanket is tucked beneath his chin.
One carrier-ghoul gently touches the Scala’s thin shoulder.
The old man’s cloudy eyes open a crack. “Ah, J-27.”
The ghoul bows. “It’s time to call the souls to Heaven, Great Scala.”
Walker taps my hand. “He just said–”
“I understood him.” My body freezes. Hey now, I just understood freaking Latin. “How in Hell do I understand Latin?”
Walker seems awfully interested in staring out at the Arena floor. “When he wants to, the Scala can make the crowd understand him.”
I smack my lips once. That sounds mega-fishy. I never heard the Scala had that power. I tilt my head to one side, trying to figure out if Walker’s telling the truth. “Are you lying to me?”
Angelbound Page 25