Armageddon’s three-knuckled fingers grip the podium so firmly, it looks ready to snap in two. “You all look…Ready.”
Miss Thing sniffles a bit, her face lined with long black streaks from her tears. Armageddon struts over to her, pausing before her in the long line of teachers. Her shoulders visibly shake. “Do I frighten you?”
Her voice comes out a ragged whisper. “Yes.”
Armageddon’s mouth winds until an evil grin. “I see.” The King of Hell grips Miss Thing’s shoulder; she gasps. Red light blazes from under her gray flesh, causing her skin to char and crack.
An odd chill creeps over my body. This can’t be real. The King of Hell cannot be sucking the soul from a teacher in front of the entire student body. Why aren’t one of the teachers doing something to protect her? Or better yet, the Oligarchy?
My teacher’s face twists with terror, her long red nails clawing at her glowing skin. This is all too real. Waves of nausea crash through me, each one worse than the last.
A moment later, her body flares into a column of red flame. It all happens so quickly, she barely has a chance to scream. Once the fire dies out, Miss Thing has transformed into a frozen image of herself, only one that’s made entirely of gray ash.
The gymnasium takes on a dream-like quality. No one speaks. No one moves. A charred smell hangs in the air. I cover my nose and mouth so I don’t barf.
Armageddon removes his hand from our teacher’s shoulder; her body crumbles. The King of Hell stares menacingly at the pile of ashes on the gymnasium floor. He bares his teeth slightly, showing shining, blade-like canines in a face of smooth black stone. “Thank you for your answer.”
Whirling about, Armageddon rounds on the student body, seeming to stare into all our eyes at once. I have the strange sensation he’s reaching into our souls, testing our strength, our ability to fight him. A satisfied grin curls his wide mouth. “My inspection is complete.”
Turning on his heel, Armageddon marches out the gymnasium’s back door, the Manus demons skulking along behind him. The group lumbers across the threshold, followed by the unmistakable hum of a portal opening in the hallway beyond. The gym door slowly swings shut with a long creak.
I exhale. He’s gone. Tension seeps from my shoulders. My stomach unwinds.
Seconds tick by. The gymnasium stays silent. All at once, students break into sobs. Others scream. A teacher collapses. More kids stare about the room, wide-eyed with panic. The headmaster steps back to the podium.
“Everyone will return to class. Until further notice, History class will report to TNK-XJ64 for extra lessons in the Ghoul Protection League. That is all.” He marches around the gym, comforting the most hysterical students and encouraging everyone back into their routine.
Huh. My eyes flare red as I stare at the headmaster. Didn’t take long for him to decide that the solution for their Armageddon problem was more Ghoul Protection League classes for us. Asshole.
Cissy grips my hand, her voice is low and ragged. “Stay close to me, sweetie.” We follow the crush of kids out of the gym. I scan the terrified faces around me. Something’s coming, and it’s not a new era of friendly relations between ghouls, angels, demons, thrax, and quasis. It’s Armageddon.
The rest of the day is a mish-mash of stuttering teachers and tear-streamed faces. Cissy joins me for the rest of my classes. She keeps asking me how I’d fight a Manus demon. For once, I’m not thrilled to answer.
Somehow I find Betsy, drive home and stuff my head with Mom’s homemade spaghetti. Throughout dinner, my mother watches my every move with interest.
“How was the pasta?”
I set my plate in the sink. “Yummy, Mom. Thanks.”
Her chocolate eyes narrow. “Can you help me with some robe alterations?”
“Sure.”
We step into her room. I stand on a stool in front of a multi-paneled mirror. Mom slips a ghoul-robe over my head and examines the hem. I stare into the reflective glass, seeing the large brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full mouth that convinced so many human souls that I was harmless.
Mom sits at my feet, a silver push-pin held firmly between her lips. She speaks from one side of her mouth. “Want to talk about it yet?”
I can’t help but smile. Mom noticed I’m upset. She’s done that a lot more lately. “Wow. How long have you known?”
She bobs her head from side to side. “Since you walked through the door, pretty much.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t believe you haven’t asked me a million questions by now.”
“I haven’t, have I?” She leans back on her heels, her gaze lost in thought. “The dreamscapes from Verus have been good for me.” She nods, decisively. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about things.” She pokes my heel with her pointer finger and smiles. “More importantly, they’ve been good for us.”
I return her grin. “Yeah, they have.” Half the time, Mom skips her grueling morning question-and-answer sessions. That alone has been a huge relationship builder. “Maybe we should reach out to Tim, bring the family together.”
She eyes me carefully. “Maybe you should tell me what happened today?”
She’s got me there. I inhale a long breath. “Things have been weird at school for a long time. It started back in September when angels started hanging around our Headmaster and Superintendent. Turns out, they’ve been giving advice on how to protect against demons. That’s why the school started the Ghoul Protection League.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “I remember you telling me about that silly League.”
“I didn’t take it too seriously at first, either.”
Cocking her head to one side, Mom eyes the drape of the robe. Pulling the pin from her mouth, she sets it into the fabric’s hem. “The demons aren’t acting like the good little allies they once were. The rank-and-file ghouls know something’s going on, even if their leaders don’t.”
Rising to her feet, Mom gently grips the robe’s shoulders. “We’re all set. Let me pull this off you.” The fabric slides over my head. “Watch the pins.” She lays the new robe over a nearby chair, then sits at the foot of her bed. “So, strange things were happening, and you didn’t take it seriously. But now you are. Why?”
Stepping down from the stool, I sit beside Mom. “Armageddon ‘inspected’ our school today.” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say ‘inspected.’ “He killed one of the teachers for no reason.”
“Oh, my. Did the Oligarchy show up?”
“No.”
“It’s what they should have done. With their Group Think, they knew exactly what was happening by the second. Armageddon was testing them.”
“Well, they failed that test, big-time.” What a bunch of bozos the Oligarchy are.
“Those four, let’s just say they don’t like facing unpleasant realities.”
I fidget. “If the demons ever do attack, what would we do?”
Mom looks around the room for a time, then she nods. “Back when I was Senator, we built a series of bunkers where the government could hide out. In there, we had everything we needed to keep working: food, water, armor, communications equipment, and even Senate robes. The bunkers were top secret and built so that no pure demon could get in or out.”
“That sounds great, only they didn’t really work last time, right?”
“The Senate thought it would be ghouls or demons who attacked, never that they’d team up into a single demon-and-ghoul-army. But they did unite. The ghouls created portals to bring in the demon army. It was all over before anyone reached the bunkers. The Angels and thrax came to fight for us, but in the end there wasn’t too much they could do. All we got were slightly better terms in the final peace treaty.”
“You know what, Mom?” I rest my head on her shoulder. “I think we may need one of those bunkers soon.” Anxiety prickles over my skin.
Mom pats my hand. “I think so too, Myla-la.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cissy rushes through the opened door of her lavish bedroom, two huge garment bags gripped in her left hand. In her right, she holds a pair of boxes wrapped in string. “Our gowns are finally here!” She gently sets the packages onto her pink bedspread. “The Great Ladies dropped them off.”
I check my watch. Only a few hours to go before Lincoln’s farewell ball begins. Good thing I’m not one of those types who needs a million years to get ready. I glance at the gowns and frown. “That’s strange. You’d think they’d have something better to do.”
Cissy hangs the gowns side-by-side in her closet. Hers is green and black, mine’s red and gold. “How do you know? Maybe it’s an ancient thrax tradition.”
“Maybe.” With the thrax, you never know. I wouldn’t be shocked if they had a tradition for which way toilet paper falls off the roll.
Cissy claps her hands. “Let’s get dressed!” She quickly shuts the bedroom door, then she and I peel down to our underwear.
A portal appears by Cissy’s closet; Walker steps through. “Good evening, Myla. You have been called to serve.”
Cissy yelps, quickly grabbing her clothes and holding them over her front. I do the same.
“Walker!” I roll my eyes. “There’s a new fad called knocking. Ever heard of it?”
Walker shifts his weight from foot to foot. “You were, um, concerned that I haven’t given you advance warning before a match. You have one this Saturday morning, 5 AM. Since it’s Thursday night, I thought you’d be pleased to know.”
“That’s nice, Walker. You can go now.”
If Walker had blood, he’d be blushing at this point. “I must, um, apologize for the intrusion. I will go inform your mother of the match.”
Cissy nods toward the stack of boxes. “Be sure to say the gowns arrived in time.”
“No!” I try to kick Cissy in the shins and miss. “She thinks we’re hanging out at Zeke’s again, she doesn’t know about the ball.” I turn to Walker, my eyes pleading. “Please don’t say a word to Mom. You know how she gets.”
Walker scans the gowns with an expert eye. “Lincoln invited you to the ball tonight.” It’s not a question.
“They’re friends,” says Cissy quickly. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time convincing her of that fact. No point awakening her envy demon when Lincoln leaves in a few days.
“I’ll keep your secret.” Walker pulls up his hood. “I only wish I had an invitation to this evening’s festivities.” He closes his eyes; another portal appears by Cissy’s closet. Walker starts to leave, then pauses. He angles toward me, his eyes glowing red under his hood. “You two will cause a lot of trouble, you know.”
“One can only hope.” I stick out my tongue at him. “I’m not worried about a certain dopey Earl ruining my life.”
“Only you, Myla.” Stepping through the portal, Walker disappears.
Cissy tosses her clothes back onto the floor, her focus moving laser-style in my direction. “What was that all about?”
“Do you promise to keep a lid on your envy demon?”
Cissy grits her teeth. “Yes.”
I hold my pointer finger and thumb before my nose in the hand signal for ‘little.’ “There may be a wee bit of sexual tension between me and Lincoln.” Best to ease her gently into reality. “And that Earl guy still hates me because I doused him in green demon goop.”
“Oh.” Cissy screws her mouth onto one side of her face. “But Lincoln’s going back to Antrum, isn’t he?”
“Yup. Saturday.” Normally this fact would be incredibly depressing. But since I’m seeing Lincoln in minutes? Couldn’t care less.
“Got it.” She bobs her head happily, her attention returning to the gowns. I let out a long sigh.
Stepping over to the boxes, I pull out my matching shoes and thrax undies. Mine look like mummy wrappings with thick black lines sewn onto them. “These look even weirder than last time. Do I really have to wear this?”
“Do you really think you’re leaving my room in anything else?”
Well, that’s the truth.
There’s a flurry of makeup brushes and hair spray, then we both slip into our gowns.
Cissy sets her hand on her hip, scanning me up and down. My dress is red and gold brocade with a fitted bodice that leaves my shoulders bare; the low pointed waist has a hole in the back for my tail. The gown’s skirt is floor-length and cut into sections that shimmer as I move. My long auburn hair hangs loose about my shoulders.
I suck in a shaky breath. I’m a curvy girl, and usually I wear sweats that pretty much hide that fact. But in this dress, I’m all hourglass. In fact, the bodice has this corset thing inside it that gives me a waspish waist. Add it all up and I’m feeling mighty awkward. I turn to Cissy. “Okay, what do you think?”
“Myla, you look stunning.”
I exhale. She may be exaggerating, but I need it right now. “Thanks.” I gesture to her dress. “Let’s see yours.” Cissy spins about, showing a shimmering black under-gown with a green velvet overdress and long looping sleeves. The velvet is loosely tied up her chest with long green ribbons, then it falls open at her skirts to reveal the black gown beneath. Her hair hangs in golden ringlets to her shoulders. Her tail swings happily behind her. I grin. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She curtsies. “We better get going. We’re already cutting it close on time.”
We say our goodbyes to Cissy’s parents and take our seats in my green station wagon, careful not to crinkle our new gowns. Betsy’s especially cranky today, spewing out extra smoke and noise before the engine finally starts humming. Finally, we start the short trip from Cissy’s to the Ryder mansion. With every passing mile, my blood pressure ratchets up a few points. Can’t. Wait.
“Why don’t you get that car fixed?” Cissy pulls down the rear view mirror, checking her make-up.
“Are you kidding?” I steer Betsy down the back roads to the Ryder mansion. “Filling out paperwork for an official maintenance request takes weeks.” I pat the dashboard. “As long as Betsy moves, she’s fine.”
Squinting, I stare through the windshield. Off in the distance, the Ryder mansion lays perched on its gray-green hill, its white bricks glittering in the haze of twilight. All around lay a sea of dark and boarded-up houses. Excitement blooms inside me.
Myla and Lincoln…Partners in crime on a new mission to rain trouble onto tight-assed thrax everywhere. Yay.
We drive closer, seeing hundreds of horses lining the cobblestone path to the mansion. Each beautiful animal carries a lovely lady in a flowing gown. Velvet bridles hang from all the horse’s heads; colored ribbons are woven into their lady’s hair. Beside every rider stands a man in brown leather pants, silver chain mail, and a velvet over-tunic with a colored crest.
“Wow.” I slow the car to a crawl.
“I know, thrax are nuts about horses. The Ryders say they built all those cabins and stuff in the woods so they could have their four-footed friends close-by.”
The station wagon nears the driveway. Its exhaust system kicks, letting out a huge puff of black smoke. Some horses whinny, causing their riders and escorts shoot me the evil eye.
I scan the roads. No other cars are around for miles. “Are we the only non-thrax at this shindig?” My heartbeat kicks into overdrive.
“Yup. This isn’t a diplomatic event; they basically asked to use the house for a private party.” She flips down the visor, checking her make-up. “I thought Lincoln would have told you all this stuff.”
What do I say here? It took Lincoln two weeks to figure out how to sneak off and wrestle me for a few hours; long chit-chats and party planning are out of the question. I frown. “I said sexual tension, Cissy, not besties.”
The station wagon spits out another mushroom cloud of smoke. More stares follow. We putter past the main parking lot. It’s been corded off to make room for make-shift stables.
Where am I supposed to park this monster?
“Tell me there’s another way to park
than driving this clunker past every member of thrax nobility.”
Cissy frowns. “Do you want me to tell you that…Or do you want the truth?”
“Ugh.”
“The lot’s your first right after the main entryway. We’re almost there.” The exhaust system kicks again; I wince. Another horse whinnies, rearing slightly on its back feet. I get even more glares this time. “Drive slowly, Myla. I think you’re scaring the horses a little.”
I lock my back teeth and focus on the road. The horses aren’t the only ones getting a little scared.
I park the car in the empty lot beside the mansion. “That sucked.”
Off in the distance, trumpets sound. Cissy whips open the car door. “Introductions have started. We’re going to be late!”
Cissy and I rush to the mansion’s front door. A few thrax linger by the entryway, their footmen leading the last of the horses down the cobblestone drive. We line up behind the final partygoers, smoothing out our dresses and trying to slow our breathing.
A male voice bellows from inside the reception hall. “Miss Cecilia Frederickson, escort to Mister Ezekiel Ryder.”
Cissy gives my hand a squeeze. “That’s my cue.” She steps through the opened doorway and into the reception hall. The room is packed with thrax in their colored outfits. Cissy glides to the center of the room and waits. Zeke saunters out from the crowd, wearing a black velvet tunic over chain mail and leather pants. He takes Cissy’s arm; they march off into the ballroom to the trill of silver trumpets.
I hover in the doorway and watch them leave, a nervous stitch eating into my side. The trumpets grow silent, followed by a pause that lasts a million billion years, minimum. My heart beats so loudly, I’m sure all of Upper Purgatory can hear it.
The herald lowers his silver trumpet. “Miss Myla Lewis without escort.”
Angelbound Page 28