Angelbound

by Christina Bauer

  As the igni smash into him, the King of Hell lets out a spine-crushing howl. He throws his arms wide, creating a column of red flame about his body. Lincoln is blasted out of the way, the force of the red fire as strong as a grenade explosion. Leaping back to his feet, the Prince races toward me, baculum blade in hand.

  My igni column merges with Armageddon’s hellfire, creating one great pillar that encases us both. I vaguely hear Lincoln scream for me outside the column of hellfire and angelic igni. He strikes at it with his baculum, but he can’t break in.

  The vault where I’ve locked away my emotions starts to splinter. Fear rattles through me, numbing my mind. I now stand on the Gray Sea, face to face with Armageddon. A circle of hellfire and angelic igni surrounds us, the column ending far above us in the clouds.

  More fear rockets through me. My control over the igni slips. Around us, the column becomes more hellfire and less angelic igni.

  Armageddon smiles greedily. He’s winning and the bastard knows it.

  The King of Hell snaps his fingers. Fiery bindings appear around my body. Panic courses through me. More igni disappear. The flames lick about my dragon-scale fighting suit, unable to break through and burn me.

  Fast as lightning, Armageddon’s consciousness travels through the igni, merging with my own. Fresh terror zooms through my every nerve ending. This is bad. Very bad. An assault on my mind begins. I can almost feel his three-knuckled fingers flipping through my memories and fears, finally settling on ones that suit his dark purpose.

  Unwanted thoughts overwhelm me. I try to stop them, but it’s no use. I want to run, but can’t move. One after another, images appear in my mind’s eye: the panic in Cissy’s face as a poisoned spear nears her back…The Oligarchy’s smirk as they suggest I be traded to Hell…Walker crumpling onto the floor of the Arena, his face writhing in pain after the Crini battle…Lincoln blown away by Armageddon’s pillar of hellfire…Mom’s despair in seeing Xavier’s tortured body…The gut-wrenching cycle of terror, anxiety and rage that’s coursed through me since I woke up one morning with blue eyes.

  All of these horrors, all because I’m the Scala.

  Despair seeps into my bones, sucking out the marrow of my fight. I never asked for this job, this burden. It’s too much for me and those I love. Before my eyes, the column becomes made of even more hellfire, far less igni. I’m losing ground.

  This is hopeless. Whatever I do, I’m going to die here.

  Raising my gaze, I stare numbly at my captor. I’m imprisoned inside a pillar of fire with Armageddon. How did it come to this? I close my eyes, calling out to the igni. Don’t leave me here. Fight on. They swirl and dive through the hellfire, refusing to disappear entirely.

  My back teeth lock. What did I think would happen, taking on Armageddon with untested powers? I’m an eighteen-year old girl, he’s immortal evil personified. I’m a fool.

  Armageddon chuckles. “I have a surprise for you as well.” A black pit opens in the sands between us. A spirit crawls up out of the darkness, her face bloated and covered in scars.

  Unholy Hell. That’s the woman I saw in the Arena, the one who sacrificed herself to the Limus demon because she didn’t think she deserved Heaven. Now Armageddon will force me to watch as he consumes her soul. My throat chokes with silent sobs.

  Armageddon paces before me, his small black eyes narrowing into slits. “I’ve been following you for some time. You stopped two of my evil souls from entering Heaven. No one gets in my way without paying a price.” He glares at the miserable spirit. “I noticed you wanted to save her, so I did. For a special occasion.” A grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Schemes within schemes. That’s why I’m King.”

  Armageddon pauses before me, his body looming above mine. “You’ve archangel blood and the old Scala’s power. You’ve moved every other demon to Hell. Yet you’re too weak to touch me.” He grins. “Want to know why?”

  My voice comes out a low whisper. “No.”

  “I saw your mind. You wait for someone else to shoulder your burden. Someone smarter, stronger, better.”

  My eyes sting. “Yes.” Maybe if that person were here, things would be different.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, something only the King of Hell would know. Anyone seeking to become the Great Scala is evil. It’s more power than a good soul would want, or a bad soul should have. When the good take power, it’s always a service, a burden. And that makes them weak. Like you.”

  Around me, the igni all but disappear. The fiery bindings on my body flare hotter. He’s right. I am weak. I can’t do this.

  Armageddon snaps his fingers once more. The spirit crawls forward until she reaches the feet of the King of Hell. I see her face. Bloated. Red-eyed. Tear-streaked.

  I choke back a wave of nausea. Armageddon set this soul aside so one day he could force me to watch her demise. With such evil in the realms, what can anyone really do?

  Armageddon raises his pointer finger, smiles right at me, and then slowly lowers his hand toward the woman’s shoulder. Tears roll down her scarred cheeks as he touches her exposed skin. She screams as her spirit-body begins to fray and fade.

  Watching her shriek, something inside me finally snaps. A realization knocks into me with a wallop. There’s no one smarter or better coming. It’s me and this poor woman and, so help me, we aren’t dying here. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t mind the burden. I am fighting.

  I raise my hand through a break in my bindings. Fresh igni swirl about my palm.

  Armageddon arches his eyebrow. “You won’t win.”

  “Then I’ll go down fighting.”

  Armageddon’s eyes sparkle. “It’s your death, Myla.” Beside him, the woman’s body all but disappears.

  “No, Myla is already gone.” I call more igni to me. They arc and dive about my arm, loosening my bindings. “I’m the Great Scala.”

  Whatever I feel, whatever powers are within me, I throw it all at Armageddon. I save no corner of my soul for trips to magic users who may strip my igni powers, for becoming the old Arena fighter again, or for a future where I’m anything but the Great Scala. I am this fight.

  I call to the igni, and they careen down from the clouds in a great flood, wiping away Armageddon’s column of hellfire. My bindings disappear. The ghostly woman falls free to the ground. White lightning bolts envelop the King of Hell, pulling him down the very pit he created by my feet. Armageddon claws at the sand as his body is yanked away. His eyes glow bright red as he disappears into the darkness.

  He’s gone. I sent Armageddon to Hell. My body hums with excitement. I turn to the miserable spirit, ordering the igni to guide her soul. They swirl and dive in a great mass as they wrap about her, carrying her into the clouds and Heaven. Their child-like laughter rings in my ears. After that, everything turns silent.

  I find myself back at the Gray Sea, standing on the top ridge above the bunker entrance. One thought ricochets through mind: Armageddon is gone.

  I let out a long breath. My arms drop to my sides. The desert wind whips through my hair. Above me, harmless gray smog replaces the angry storm clouds. My legs turn boneless beneath me. I’m dimly aware that Cissy, Zeke, Mom, and Xavier stand nearby. I wobble in place. It’s over. Lincoln’s arms wrap about me as I collapse. All becomes darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  For what feels like an eternity, my dreams are empty and cold. Occasional sights and odd voices break through the void: Mom sponging sweat from my forehead…Cissy holding my hand…Lincoln gently kissing my closed eyes. Someone says “She’s past the worst of it.”

  I wake up in my own bed. My brain is hazy. I stagger to my feet and peer out the window. Half the houses on our street are burned-out husks. The demons were here too.

  The world whitens around the edges of my vision; I grip the windowsill.

  “What are you doing?” The voice is familiar.

  I squint but can’t focus. “Mom?”

  �
��Yes, it’s me.” She races to my side. Her arms grip my shoulders, guiding me back into bed. “What are you doing up?”

  My head touches the pillow. I curl into a fetal position. “I didn’t know where I was.” I feel so cold, my teeth chatter. I try to open my eyes but can’t.

  Mom pulls the blanket up to my shoulders. “You’re home, Myla.”

  Suddenly, my brain jolts back into focus, my eyes open wide. I grip Mom’s hand. “What happened after I sent the demons back to Hell? Where are the ghouls?”

  Mom gently brushes hair from my face. “The demons have stayed in Hell. The ghouls have kept their word to patrol our borders.” She smiles. “You did it, Myla. Verus is preparing a summit in three weeks’ time. Angels, ghouls, quasis, and thrax will all meet to discuss the terms of the new government.”

  “Where’s Xavier?”

  “Safe, thanks to you.” She pats my hand. “Close your eyes, Myla-la. Everything’s fine.”

  I roll onto my side and smile. “I did it.” Something glitters on my dresser. I heave myself up onto my elbows. “What’s that?”

  Mom picks up the shiny whatever-it-is and hands it to me. “It’s a gift from Lincoln.” Two silver rods rest on my palms.

  “These are Lincoln’s baculum.” My fingertips run over the intricately carved runes that cover the surface. “I can’t believe he gave me them.”

  “He was with you day and night until the healers declared you were out of danger. Then he had to return to Antrum. He left the baculum and asked me to remind you of your promise to Nat. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes, I do.” I told Lincoln’s Master at Arms that I would practice with the sword for an hour a day. Now I can do it in style. Smiling, I slip the baculum under my pillow.

  Mom rises to her feet. “You better get some sleep now, Myla.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” My eyes waver and close. I fall into a deep sleep and dream of the Gray Sea. I stand on a long stretch of rolling charcoal dunes under low silver sky. The wind whips the sand and my nightgown. Verus stands nearby, her robes and wings gleaming bright-white against the drab landscape. I’m torn between wanting to run up and hug her or kick her in the kneecaps. Tough call.

  “Hello, Myla.”

  “Hi, Verus.”

  The lead angel looks to the horizon. Her long black hair cascades over her shoulders in a perfect arc. “I do love the Gray Sea.” She turns to me, her almond-shaped eyes flaring blue.

  “I noticed.” My bare toes dig into the warm sand. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Part of me wants to thank you. Your dreamscapes helped my relationship with Mom and got me ready to become the Scala. But another part of me? I don’t know. It’s like I’m a pawn in some game of yours that I don’t understand.”

  “You mean Lincoln.”

  “Yes.”

  “You two don’t look unhappy. I should think you’d find each other irresistible.”

  I chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. There was plenty of resisting for a while.” I eye Verus carefully. “Was that why you made the thrax stay longer in Purgatory?”

  “Yes, but that’s all I can tell you.” Verus’s mouth stretches into an all-knowing, other-worldly smile. It’s a little irritating.

  “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ve got healing to do and souls to zap around or whatever.”

  Verus bows slightly. “Until the summit, then.”

  “Yes, I’ll see you there.”

  The world turns quiet and dark. More voices echo through my dreamless sleep. I open my eyes, blink and yawn. Cissy and Zeke stand near my bed. I drink in the sight of them and smile. They’re safe, alive, and bickering up a storm. Everything feels a little more right with the universe.

  Cissy stomps her foot. “I know it’s been days since she’s eaten.” She wags her finger at Zeke. “But Senator Lewis said not to wake her up.”

  Zeke points to me. “Well, she’s up.”

  Cissy’s tail wags up a storm behind her. “You’re awake! We brought you some broth.” She sits at the end of my bed, bowl in hand.

  I pull myself up onto my elbows. “How long have I been out of it?”

  “Four days.” She holds a spoon level with my mouth. “Open up.”

  “I got it, thanks.” I take the bowl from her hands, raise it to my mouth and swallow. The liquid’s warm and tasty.

  “Guess what?” Cissy beams. “I’m going to Verus’s summit too. I’ll be your Mom’s Junior Senator.”

  “That’s great. You wanted diplomatic service.”

  Zeke sets his palm on Cissy’s shoulder. “My parents are excited to keep her around.” He kisses the top of her head. “And so am I.”

  Strange voices sound from the living room. My face crinkles. I’m not really up for meeting any strangers right now. “Who’s that?”

  Zeke and Cissy share a pointed look.

  “We should get going.” Cissy pulls the empty soup bowl from my hands. I must have been hungry; I don’t remember finishing it.

  My friends make their goodbyes and step out the door, careful to close it behind them. The voices grow louder.

  I force myself onto my feet, stumble over to the door, and open it a crack. Mom stands in the living room in a red dress, talking to tall man in a gray suit. I can’t see his face. My hazy head tries to place the outline of his body. It’s familiar somehow.

  Mom laughs, her chocolate eyes shimmer. An aura of confidence and power surrounds her. I can’t remember the last time I saw her look so lovely and alive. Happiness makes me a little lightheaded. I lean against the doorframe for support.

  The man wraps his arms around Mom’s shoulders, pulling her into a long kiss.

  Now I remember where I’ve seen that guy. It’s Xavier.

  Mom breaks the kiss, giggles, and rubs her knuckle against my father’s belly. I’m totally grinning from ear to ear. Mom spies me in the doorway.

  “Myla, what are you doing up?”

  I reposition my weight against the doorframe. “I heard voices.”

  Xavier spins around to face me. “Hello, Myla.” His turquoise eyes sparkle. He’s now clean-shaven, so he looks more like the man from my dreamscapes: short brown hair, muscular frame, square jaw, and high cheekbones. Time with Armageddon left its mark: his cocoa-colored skin hangs as loose on his bones, as does his suit.

  My father takes a few tentative steps toward me. “It’s good to see you awake.”

  I smile. “It’s good to see you, period.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m still not sure you’re real.” He takes another tiny step forward.

  I scope out the space between us. At this rate, we’ll be at it all day. I stagger over to him and wrap my arms about his neck. “I’m here, I’m real, and I love you.”

  Xavier folds his arms around my shoulders. “My girl. My beautiful girl.”

  My knees get gooey. Walking around wasn’t my best idea.

  “Let me get you back to bed.” Xavier props me against his side, leading me past the couch and back into my room.

  Mom follows us up to the doorway, and then she pauses. “I’ll give you two some time.” She closes my door with a soft click.

  Xavier helps me onto the mattress and tucks the covers under my chin like I’m two years old. It’s sweet. He drags a rusted chair beside the bed, sits down and adjusts the too-loose collar of his crisp white shirt. His voice cracks as he speaks. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “Any time.” My heart thuds so hard, I’m almost surprised it doesn’t break out of my rib cage. My father is here! My real, non-ghoul, totally awesome archangel father. I have so much to tell him, even more to ask him. Where do I start?

  He reaches toward my face, freezes, and drops his hand.

  I grin. “You’re still having issues with the whole ‘is she real’ thing, am I right?”

  He nods, tears welling in his blue eyes.

  I take his palm and press it against my cheek. It’s cal
loused but warm. Suddenly I know exactly where to start: the number one interest we share. “Name a demon, any demon.”

  “What?”

  “You name the demon and I’ll tell you how to defeat it.” This is going to be so much fun, I can’t stand it.

  He inhales a shaky breath. “Limus.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please! Fire, end of story.” I push his hand back at him and grin.

  He laughs and cries a bit at the same time. “Okay, how about Papilio?”

  “Now, that’s a challenge.” We launch into a long discussion of demon fighting, which is incredibly satisfying on multiple levels. Dad keeps his own set of demon notebooks, which he promises to show me. So. Cool.

  The light in my window becomes darker. My eyelids grow heavy. I want to say goodbye, but can only manage a ‘hmm’ sound as I fall asleep. My dreams take me to a small clapboard house with an emerald-green yard. Above my head, the sky’s a sheet of white light. I sit on the front porch in a rocking chair, smiling as I slowly sway to and fro. Everything is peaceful and lovely.

  I awaken to the sound of whispers. Mom and Walker stand by my bed. By the light from my window, I figure it must be late in the day.

  My face brightens. “Hey, cuz! Good to see you. Are you feeling okay?”

  Walker bows slightly. “Fully recovered, thank you for asking. And you?”

  “Better.” I reach up and grab Mom’s hand. “How long have I been out this time?”

  “Six days in total.” She wears jeans and a brown t-shirt. Rockin.

  “Six days?” I make a barfy face. “That’s disgusting. I’m going to shower and change.”

  “It’s not that bad, Myla-la. We’ve been keeping you clean by–”

  I raise my hand. “Let’s stop right there. That stays a mystery.” I haul myself out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom. “I’ll see you both in a bit.”

  I shower and scope out my closet. Mom did some shopping while I was out of it; all my sweats are gone. Bonus! I put on a pair of black jeans with a red top. I shuffle into the kitchen. Walker and Mom sit at the table, steaming mugs of coffee in their hands. Xavier leans against the counter, wearing a t-shirt and loose cotton pajama bottoms. Guess he’s moved in. Nice.