Scala

by Christina Bauer

  “Is something wrong?” I ask quickly. “Don’t bother trying to talk me out of this. My mind’s made up.”

  “No, it’s not that. Not at all. I’m going with you.”

  My brows lift with surprise. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not. And it’s not a request. It’s a statement of fact. I am going with you.” He takes both my hands in his. “I don’t want to be King without you as my Queen. The chances you’ll win against Adair by yourself are slim. If this is going to work, you need some back-up.”

  My pulse kicks faster. With a warrior like Lincoln along, my chances would get a shit-ton better.

  “And you’re absolutely sure about this?”

  He looks at me out of his right eye. “Keep asking me that and I’m liable to get insulted.”

  I can’t help but smile. I’m so used to fighting in the Arena solo. No coach. No back-up. No friendly faces cheering from the stands. Having Lincoln in my life makes me realize how alone I once was. A happy, summer-warm feeling spreads through my heart. “Okay, you’re coming along.”

  He winks. “How very big of you.”

  “Also, there may be a way I can protect you from her. You know, so she doesn’t turn you all demon-eyed. It’s a lot more bluffing and lies, but there’s a chance she’ll buy it.”

  “What can I say? I love this plan.”

  “You know we’ll have to hide this from your parents, too?”

  “Clearly.”

  “So, how do we sneak into Antrum? It’s always locked down super-tight. Right now, your parents are probably keeping an extra-close eye on who comes and goes.”

  Lincoln rubs his chin as he walks along. “Let me guess. You don’t want to ask Walker.”

  “He’s used his back-doors too much already. And he’s needed here, in Purgatory. You know, if the plan goes wrong.” And we end up dead.

  “I may have an option there. You once mentioned an old inactivated Pulpitum in Purgatory. Since Acca has control over all the transfer stations, we could enter Antrum that way. My parents don’t monitor it, but they do keep tabs on it at Transfer Central. And since the Pulpitum are under Acca’s control, Adair should find out about our request right away. It could give us a way to contact her as well. Let her know we want to talk.” His mouth rounds into winning smile. “When do we leave?”

  “Right now. Adair could figure out how to use my powers at any time.”

  “Works for me. We’re off.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lincoln and I step towards Pulpitum X, ready for anything. He wears black body armor; I’m in my Scala robes. We both carry our baculum.

  Pulpitum X is a decommissioned transfer station in Lower Purgatory. No one was using the place, so we shut it down a century ago. I doubt anyone’s entered it in fifty years. Even so, Lincoln says it can be reactivated for emergency traffic. I suppose the situation with Adair more than counts as an emergency.

  Once inside the Pulpitum, it looks like all the other transfer stations, a dark and empty cylinder. Only here, there are no guards, and a light coating of dead leaves and garbage covers the floor. If I didn’t know for a fact this place could work, I’d think it was busted.

  Lincoln speaks in a whisper. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  I link my fingers with Lincoln’s. Both our hands tremble slightly, which I find oddly comforting. We both know this plan is a series of educated-but-risky guesses.

  Our first big guess is coming up, right now.

  Lincoln’s father admitted that Acca had taken over Transfer Central, the headquarters of all platform requests and routing. With any luck, Acca and Adair will intercept our message before anyone reports our request to Lincoln’s parents. If Connor and Octavia realize that Lincoln is in Antrum, they’ll bundle him off to the Earl of Acca in a heartbeat. Maybe less. We need to sneak in without them knowing.

  “Activating emergency station. Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus.” A grid of white lasers shoot across the room, doing a quick body scan.

  The same smooth female voice echoes through the station. “Identity confirmed.” Angelfire lights up the bowl-like sconces that encircle the room. Brightness reflects off metal disc in the center of the floor.

  A long pause follows. Lincoln and I share a nervous glance. Will our plan get stopped before it even begins?

  The woman’s voice speaks again. “What’s your destination?”

  “The Great Scala and I wish to talk to Lady Adair, wherever she is. Alone. There must be no records of our visit. No alerts to anyone but Adair. We want this done quietly.”

  “One moment, please.” Another pause follows as someone goes to check with Lady Adair. “Prince Lincoln is approved for transfer.”

  A familiar voice crackles on the line. “Tell him that I’m glad that he’s come to his senses, at last.”

  No question who that is. Adair.

  The Transfer Agent speaks again. “I’m instructed to congratulate you on coming to your senses.”

  I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The Transfer Station has Adair on the line, alone. That means she’s in Antrum. Whew. Even better, she’s running her own show, separately from her father. I straighten my shoulders and get ready for the next phase of our operation.

  Here it comes. Guess number two. The crux of my plan. My tail taps nervously on my thigh.

  I stroll around the Pulpitum, careful to keep my voice casual and confident. “King Connor told me that Lady Adair can move souls. And sure, igni will appear pretty easily. You can even get them to visit Heaven and Hell on their own.” So far, all of this is true. “But you can’t move a soul unless you have every last one of them.”

  Bombs away. That was a nasty, mega lie. Adair has plenty of igni, only I’m gambling she doesn’t know how to use them.

  Another long pause follows. The wind moans through the entry slit of the Pulpitum. My heart beats so hard, I can hear the whoosh of my pulse. Lincoln and I stand motionless.

  Some garbled chatter sounds on the line. Adair’s talking again, but I can’t understand her words.

  The female Transfer Agent speaks once more. “What would be the purpose of your visit?”

  Woo-freaking-hoo. Relief and excitement course through me. Adair’s buying into my lie. She really believes that she needs all of my igni. And asking for the purpose of my visit? That means she wants to know what I’m willing to trade for them. Even though I realize Adair’s listening in, I keep up the pretense that I can’t hear her. Who knows? If she doesn’t know her voice is live, she might blab something useful in the background.

  “Please tell Adair that we can play cat-and-mouse for years, with her trying to get the last of my powers. But there are millions of souls that need to be moved in the next twenty-four hours. I want to make a trade. I give Adair my igni, and she promises to move all of Purgatory’s spirits as their trial verdicts dictate, including me, when I’m ready.”

  There’s a burst of static on the line, followed by a quick answer from the Agent. “You are both accepted for transfer. Step onto the platform.”

  My heart lightens. Adair gave in mighty quickly on that last request. She must be freaking out by now. Most likely, she’s been trying to move souls for hours without any success. I’m sure she’s gotten pretty sick of the screechy rock concert going on inside her head, too. My educated guesses are falling into place.

  Here comes the last one.

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Not so fast. I have a final condition. Adair cannot possess Lincoln during our visit. If I so much as see a flicker of demon-red in Lincoln’s eyes, then I’m zapping the rest of my igni to Heaven, where she’ll never get them back. My father will store them right beside Lucifer’s Orb for all eternity, or at least until Adair is stone dead. Do we understand each other?”

  What an outrageous pack of lies. I’m guessing that Adair doesn’t know enough about igni to realize what a load of crap I just shoveled her way. I can send my igni on
a visit to Heaven or Hell, sure. But no one can actually contain them other than the Scala.

  The quiet gets downright annoying. “I said, do we have a deal?”

  “Yes. Get on the platform.”

  “Excellent.” I try my best to sound confident, but I won’t really know if my bluff worked until we reach our destination. Once we hit the Antrum transfer station, Lincoln should be close enough to Adair that she would make him demon-eyed, if she chose.

  A fresh round of adrenaline hits me. This is happening, really happening.

  Lincoln and I cross the room, stand on the metallic disc, and rest our arms on each other’s shoulders.

  Time to go.

  Like before, Lincoln states his command to the navigational system. “Launch transfer on my mark. 3, 2, 1.”

  With a roar, the platform hurtles through the ceiling on a roller-coaster ride to the earth’s surface. We speed through rock, water and soil, lurching as our platform avoids immoveable objects. A short time later, we emerge in another deserted Pulpitum. This one’s in a blackened cave with a few measly grey ceiling-crystals to serve as light. The transfer station is half rubble, covered in lichen, and marked with signs saying ‘Mercor Temple’.

  We’re here.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lincoln and I step off the Pulpitum platform in Antrum. A massive cave surrounds us; it’s made entirely of dark stone. The ground is filled with ancient-looking trees and a half-ruined temple. Now that we’ve arrived, one thought consumes me.

  My last big lie to Adair was that I could zap my igni to Heaven if she overtook Lincoln’s mind. Did she buy it? Or, did she only say ‘yes’ to get Lincoln closer to her powers?

  I turn to face Lincoln, cup his face in my hands, and exhale a sigh of relief. His eyes are still mismatched. No demon-red glow. Adair totally bought my story. I’ve never appreciated the ghouls, but man, do I ever at this moment.

  Thank you, oh Ghouls, for so thoroughly destroying every last scrap of information about the Great Scala. You’ve made it possible for me to lie my ass off today.

  A dozen Acca guards stand around us in a semi-circle. None of their eyes are red, so they’re helping Adair of their own free will. Traitors. More faces for my to-destroy list when and if we get out of this.

  The Acca Captain grunts the word ‘go’ at Lincoln and me, so we follow him away from the transfer platform to a long, jagged ledge of rock. There, the Captain raises his arm. Our group pauses.

  All the guards stare at Lincoln and me, their eyes filled with an eager loathing. The air hangs heavy with anticipation. Like smoke, it constricts my lungs, making it hard to breathe. My tail coils behind me, cobra-like, waiting to strike.

  I hate moments like this. We’re trapped in the great pause before a greater battle. Bring it on, already.

  Leaning forward, I scope out the grounds beyond the stone ledge. A steep incline rolls down below us. At the base of this slope, a wide valley opens up. The shadowy space is filled with a huge, broken-down ruin.

  I picture the sign from the Pulpitum. Mercor Temple. This is the place. Here things will end with Adair, one way or another.

  The Captain holds out his hands. “Baculum.”

  Okay, I totally knew it was a long shot that they’d let us keep our weapons, but I still hate handing over my baculum to this dip. Lincoln gave me these, and I’m very protective of them. I make a quick mental note of where the Captain stashes our stuff, namely the left-hand side of his tunic. Based on Lincoln’s gaze, I can tell that he’s doing the same thing.

  “Let’s move out.” The Captain marches down the incline to the valley below. Lincoln and I follow.

  In the dim light, the temple looks like a square framework of broken grey stone. In some places, great trees have grown up through the smashed rock. The ground is damp and foul-smelling.

  Across the scene, Adair stands atop a wooden stage set against the temple’s far wall. I roll my eyes. Great, more dramatics. She’s wearing her fake Scala robes for the occasion, which pisses me off. The Acca guard march us until we stand right before the stage. The angle forces me to stare up at her. Not my favorite view.

  Up close, the stage is broken and putrid, like everything else around here. Black paint has long since chipped away, showing underlying wood that’s yellow with mold.

  Adair surveys us each in turn, smiling. “Greetings.”

  Father always says that in battle, you have to take the initiative and never let go. So, here comes my initiative.

  I jump onto the stage. “Let’s skip the pleasantries,” I say. “Do we have a deal, Adair? You move the souls the way Purgatory sorts them—including me—and I give you the rest of my igni.”

  Adair looks anxiously to her guard. She doesn’t like being so close to me while the soldiers are outside of easy fighting range. She’s right to worry, too. I went super-easy on her in the warehouse. She’s no idea what I’m capable of.

  “Well, Adair?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Good. Want the rest of my igni?” I turn my palms face her directly. “Come and get them. I said I’d give them to you. I didn’t say I’d make it easy.”

  Adair looks unsure.

  “Come on,” I continue. “You did it before, at the warehouse. You’ve got demonic blood in you now. Surely, you’re not afraid of me.” I gesture towards Lincoln. “And as an extra bonus, you could claim the last of my igni right in front of you-know-who. Now, that’s got to make your inner psycho happy. It’s a very good deal.”

  Adair still hesitates. Time to bring out the big guns.

  I turn to Lincoln and roll my eyes. “I told you. She doesn’t have what it takes to walk across a stage, let alone be Queen of the thrax or the Great Scala. I’m the one you should choose.”

  With that, Adair finally takes the bait. Her eyes flare demon-bright as she races towards me, her shoulder aiming straight for my gut, same as she did in the warehouse. Only back then, I took a fall so we could get a confession out of her. This time, I have other plans.

  Lincoln sees his chance and springs into action. Gripping the Acca Captain’s head, he twists it until the neck snaps. As the man falls, Lincoln reaches into the Captain’s tunic and grabs his baculum.

  Meanwhile, I allow Adair to ram her shoulder into my gut and slam me onto the floor, just as she did in the warehouse. New warriors always use the same attacks over and over, as long as they worked in the past. Total rookie mistake.

  I let my head slam into the floor and then, I lie still. I’ve never been knocked out before, but I’ve done it to other people a ton of times, so I’ve a pretty good idea what it looks like.

  Adair paces back and forth before my prone body, an evil smile on her mouth.

  Out of my half-closed eyes, I see Lincoln battling it out before the stage, his baculum ignited into two short-swords as he goes to town on the Acca guards. They’ve got him surrounded, but their approach is perfectly suited for a short-sword counter-attack. It doesn’t look like it right now, but I give all those warriors about two minutes to live.

  Adair flaps her hands at the guards. “Be careful, now! Don’t hurt him. I want him brought back to Acca, safe and alive.” She chuckles softly. “I promised I wouldn’t possess him, but I never said capture was off the menu.”

  I blink my eyes wildly, as if I’m just coming to. Adair sees the movement and pounces on my torso. While straddling my rib cage, Adair presses her palms against mine, holding my hands flush against the ground. I make a great show of writhing under her like I can’t get up.

  The next time Adair speaks, her mouth is only inches above my own. “Now, you’ll see what death looks like.”

  I don’t think so.

  I command my tail to move. It arcs high, the arrowhead end flexed into a fist. Quick as lightning, it swoops low, pounding Adair right in the gut. The force of my blow sends her flying across the stage. Adair’s head slams onto the wooden floor with such force, the planks splinter and snap. She lies on her back, unmoving.
I hop up onto my feet and size up Adair.

  “Now, that’s what a concussion looks like.”

  I race over to Adair’s body. Meanwhile, Lincoln’s finished off the guards, so he leaps up onto the stage to do the same. Kneeling by Adair’s side, Lincoln sets his fingers against her neck. “She’s alive but unconscious.” He tosses me my baculum.

  I kneel down beside Adair as well. “Now, we wait for her to wake up and see reason.”

  Lincoln raises his right eyebrow. “You really think that’ll happen?”

  “Not a chance. We’ll ask her for my igni back, she’ll say no, and then—” I don’t want to talk about the killing part, but we both know that’s the most likely end game.

  Lincoln rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think she’ll see reason, but she may follow tradition.”

  “I’m listening.” No one knows better than me the power of tradition, rules and brainwashing. I see it every day.

  “Ever since our encounter at the Ghost Towers, I’ve been considering the best way to approach Adair. Last time, I ordered her to speak to me. But I think there’s a higher ritual that I can invoke.”

  “You mean, like a thrax ceremony or something?”

  “Precisely. She and her House have given oaths of fealty to Rixa. If I ask her something in the names of those oaths, she can’t turn me down. In theory, anyway.”

  My tail makes a stabbing motion at Adair’s chest. I smack the arrowhead end. “Down, boy. We’re talking to her first.” I shift my attention to Lincoln. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  Lincoln gently sets his hand on her upper arm. “Adair?”

  Her eyes flutter open. “Lincoln.”

  “Am I your Prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you honor your oath to my House and title, as you and your ancestors have done before you?”

  Adair stares into his face for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  My breath catches with a mixture of surprise and joy. She’s thinking about it. Actually considering sticking to her oaths. I take back all the nasty stuff I said about thrax worshipping ceremony. Go tradition!