Armageddon (Angelbound)

by Christina Bauer

  Lincoln nods and pulls Maxon closer. “The Viperon.”

  Okay, so that’s mega-poisonous. My heart lurches in my chest. There’s no point telling Lincoln everything will be fine; he knows better than anyone what kind of poison a Viperon demon carries. He’s got an hour or two at most.

  Damn. At some point, our luck has got to change.

  “Be right back.”

  Turning on my heel, I jog across the empty red earth to the nearest jut of crimson rock. For the first time, I notice my fingers still curled in a death grip around an object. Strange that in all the chaos I didn’t even notice what my hand was doing. Looking down, I see Dad’s baculum hilt is still gripped tightly. My shoulders straighten. That feels like a good omen.

  We’ve gotten through Hell. Now, all we have to do is get through the Plains of Fire.

  I ignite dad’s baculum as a long-sword and hike up to the top of the jutting rock. The air is thick with heat and moisture. The sun hangs low in the sky. I scan the horizon. No one’s around.

  Not so good.

  I race down the outcrop of rock and over to my husband and son. In just the few minutes I was away, the flesh on Lincoln’s back has turned an even darker shade of purple. Maxon lifts his head, his eyes puffy from tears. “Do you have water Mommy? I’m thirsty.”

  The sun lowers on the horizon. We need to find shelter. Ghoul riders are the least nasty things that roam these deserts at night. I set my father’s baculum into one of my holsters. “I don’t have any water, baby.”

  Lincoln kisses Maxon’s temple. “Why don’t you and Mommy go look for shelter and Daddy will wait right here for you until you get back.”

  I crouch down beside Lincoln, checking his pockets. Unlike my fighting suit, Lincoln’s armor is jam-packed with little places to hide stuff. Maybe there’s a healing potion squirreled away somewhere.

  “Myla, please. You and Maxon should go.”

  “No way. We are not leaving you here.” Panic rises through my blood.

  We did not just get through Hell only to have Lincoln die on these stupid plains.

  “There must be something else we have to help you.”

  A new voice sounds from behind me. “You have me, Myla-la.”

  I whip around and, Unholy Hell, I’ve never been happier to see Walker. “You found us!”

  He wraps me in a deep hug. “I’ve been patrolling for hours, worrying myself silly. You three would have given me a heart attack, if I still had a beating heart.” He closes his eyes, and a portal opens immediately to his right. Another ghoul steps out. “Tell them we found them.”

  “With pleasure.” Walker’s buddy steps back through portal and disappears.

  “Everyone’s waiting at your Mom’s place in Purgatory.” Walker scans Lincoln’s back. “You look like Hell, Shield Brother.”

  Lincoln’s voice comes out a rough rasp. “Well, I’ve been through it.”

  “We’re skipping your mother’s place. I’m taking you to Purgatory General first, okay?”

  “That’s fine with me,” says Lincoln.

  “Good thinking, Walker. Lincoln got hit by a Viperon on the way out.”

  Walker closes his eyes, and a low hum sounds as a new portal opens. Maxon climbs up into my arms and our tails entwine.

  Lincoln rises slowly, wincing with each movement. I actively ignore the fact that the wound on his back is oozing some kind of black pus. Together, all of us step through the portal and into the blindingly bright light of Purgatory General.

  An antiseptic scent assaults my lungs. Bodies in white scrubs scurry everywhere in the blinding brightness. “All medical personnel to triage immediately,” announces a nasal voice over the loudspeaker. “The Great Scala and her companion have returned, along with the Scala Heir. Repeat, all medical personnel to triage.”

  Someone places Lincoln on a gurney. Another someone sets down Maxon and starts running his vitals. The room starts to move in and out of focus. Yet another new medical someone is trying to talk to me. I see the nurse’s lips move but can’t understand a word. Pain spikes in my neck.

  What the?

  My legs give out from under me and I collapse onto the floor.

  # # #

  My soul is a bird, soaring through pure white space. I’ve been this way for ages, flying though dreamlike air, looking for someone. White mist reels over me, tiny prickles of cold stick in my skin.

  A voice sounds on the clouds. It’s familiar. My mother, maybe?

  Baby, come back to me. Wake up.

  I want to tell her that I’m already awake. I’m flying through the clouds, wheeling and diving. A deep sense of peace flows through me. I never want to land.

  More voices echo through the air. This time it’s Elder Faustina herself.

  There is nothing-a more I can do.

  My hazy brain remembers that I love Lincoln and he was sick. Is he better now? I want to land and find out, but I can only keep soaring through the skies, feeling the rush of air against my feathers.

  Little fingers twist into my hair. It’s Maxon, my baby. Someone tells him he has to sleep.

  I won’t sleep until everybody wakes up.

  His tiny hand wraps in mine. “Wake up, Mommy. Wake up.”

  Memories fly back into my mind. We were in Hell. Maxon was captured. I have to find out if he’s safe. Screw all this flying around. I need to wake up and find my son. With all my focus, I force my larger hand to tighten around Maxon’s little one.

  My father’s voice sounds in my ears. “She’s waking up. Get Lincoln, Cam.”

  My eyes flutter open. Maxon stands beside my hospital bed, his eyes red and bleary from crying. “Don’t worry, baby,” I say, my voice hoarse and croaking. “Mommy’s awake.”

  I scan the room. Dad and Walker stand nearby, beaming from ear to ear.

  “I woke you up,” announces Maxon with pride.

  “That you did. Thanks, baby.”

  Lincoln bursts into the room, my mother on his heels. He rushes to my side, leans over the bed, and kisses my forehead. “Myla, you’re awake. We were so worried.”

  Mom, Dad and Walker say their hellos as well, before Cissy shows up and shepherds them all out of the room. Cissy always knows when I need time alone with my guys.

  Maxon crawls onto my lap, his little hand twirling in my hair. “We missed you, Mommy.”

  Lincoln points to Maxon’s head and mouths two words. “Not sleeping.”

  “How’s my little man?” I ask.

  “You wouldn’t wake up,” says Maxon. “It was scary.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

  He nods and curls into my chest.

  “Can you sleep now, baby?”

  “Not until Hildy’s awake, too,” explains Maxon. “I keep calling to her in my head. She can’t forget about me or she won’t wake up.”

  I wrap my arms around him more tightly. “How could anyone forget about you?” He curls his little hands about my torso and I smile.

  “Maxon has the right idea here,” says Lincoln. “Scooch over.”

  The hospital bed is small, but I make some room for him. “That enough?”

  “Perfect.” Lincoln slides in next to me, and it’s a comfort to feel his warm, solid body beside mine.

  I make a yummy noise and cuddle closer. “And why am I here, exactly?”

  “You were infected with the Leech Guard’s venom.”

  I nod slowly. “Oh, yeah. It sure did hit me with a wallop, like you said.”

  “We caught you just in time.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Little over a week.”

  “What?” My mouth falls open with shock. “That was some wallop.”

  “It was.”

  “And how’s your back now?”

  “Fine. I have some new scars to add to the collection. Maxon says it makes me look tougher.”

  Reaching up with my free hand, I gently brush my fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. Hi
s eyes are red and swollen. “You could use some sleep, too.”

  “It’s an idea at that.” He looks down at Maxon and smiles. “You have the magic touch.”

  Following Lincoln’s gaze, I look down to see a very asleep Maxon in my arms. He cuddles into my side, making little ‘puh’ noises as he exhales. A welcome mixture of joy, satisfaction and relief warms my chest.

  Lincoln shifts his position to lay down beside me. With gentle movements, he guides my body to recline beside his. Maxon lies between us. It’s a squeeze, but it’s lovely.

  “Should we be doing this?” I ask.

  “Absolutely not. Against regulation.”

  “The hospital won’t like it.”

  “Good, I hope they hate it. We haven’t caused trouble in Purgatory in ages.” Lincoln chuckles and pulls me closer against him. “Damn, I missed you.”

  I nestle into his shoulder, feeling my own eyes grow heavy. “Lincoln?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “We did it, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, Myla.” He gently kisses the top of my head. His voice cracks as he adds: “We got our family back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I stand at the doorway to Dad’s study in Arx Hall. Actually, both my parents use this place to work when they’re visiting, but right now, he’s the only one around. Candles dot the room. Flickering light dances off the leather bindings of books lining the walls. Dad sits hunched over his great wooden desk, scribbling away with a feather stylus on a fresh sheet of parchment.

  “How long are you going to watch me?” A sly smile rounds Dad’s mouth as he makes another note with his feather-pen. “I can do far more entertaining things than write, you know.”

  “I have—” I almost say ‘a gift,’ but the words get stuck in my throat. My gift may be no gift at all. I hover anxiously in the doorway. I only woke up a week ago in Purgatory General; maybe this was a mistake. “I should go.”

  “Please stay.” Dad’s gaze locks with mine, and understanding shines in his blue eyes. “I know what you’re going through, Myla. I spent nearly twenty years in Hell. It’ll help to talk about it.” He gestures to the leather chair across from his desk. “Besides, Cissy left some brownies.”

  Ah, my father knows me too well. I smile.

  “Home-made?” Cissy’s cooking skills are nothing less than legendary.

  “Just dropped them off today.” Dad slides a cardboard box to the edge of his desk. “Fudge almond.”

  “Okay, that settles it.” I step into the room, sink down into the leather armchair, and start chomping away. “This is Heaven.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  I speak through a mouthful of brownie. Not ladylike, but fudge almond is my favorite. “Trying to get Maxon to fall asleep.”

  “Still?”

  “He’s on another no-sleep-athon. Now he’s up to—” I check the nearest clock, silently making calculations. “Fifty-six hours now. I was with him for the last eight and, well, I had to take a break.”

  “He’s worried about Hildy.”

  “Yeah, Maxon’s convinced that if he goes to sleep, Hildy will forget to wake up.”

  “And his flashbacks?”

  “Still happening. If he gets into a confined space, he loses control. Thinks he’s back in his cell.” I shake my head sadly. “It breaks my heart, Dad.”

  “Anything we can do to help?”

  “You’re already doing so much. I really appreciate you and Mom coming to Antrum. It’s not easy running Purgatory from here, and you’ve been away a week already.”

  “A week, a month, a year, it makes no difference,” says Dad. “We’ll be with you until you kick us out because you don’t need us anymore. Besides, I think the quasi population would riot if we were anywhere else. They’re very fond of Maxon, you know.”

  “True.” Our home in Purgatory is almost submerged in flowers and candles.

  Dad leans back in his chair and eyes me closely. “So, what happened, Myla-la?”

  My chest tightens. I’ve been dreading answering to this question almost as much as I’ve been wanting to set the words free.

  “I don’t know where to begin.” I decide that now is a really good time to check how my cuticles are doing. Yup, still there.

  Dad’s voice is gentle. “Take your time.”

  Stop pussyfooting around, Myla. You can do this.

  “I have a gift for you.” Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. This whole conversation makes me restless. It’s like I could crawl out of my own skin. “At first, I thought it would be a good thing to give this to you but then, I worried it might bring back bad memories.”

  My father shoots me one of his trademark toothy grins. “I welcome any gift from my daughter.”

  I let out an awkward chuckle. “Wait until you see it.” Slipping my hand behind my back, I pull an item from the waistband of my jeans, and set it gingerly onto the desktop. “It’s your old baculum.”

  Dad’s toothy smile disappears. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches forward, his fingertips brushing along the baculum’s carved surface. “The Almighty gave this to me when I was created. My baculum.” His voice breaks. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

  My father rises to his feet, his golden wings appearing down his back. He takes the baculum in both fists, igniting the blade as a long-sword. With blinding speed, he starts running through battle moves, including a bunch of fancy jabs that are part of the Dawn Crucible, a special type of archangel battle training. After a few minutes he pauses, holding the hilt at eye level, watching the blade crackle with angelfire in the dim light. A look of ultimate satisfaction glitters in his blue eyes. His gaze locks on mine. “Tell me you killed him with this.”

  “Nefer and I did. Together.”

  Dad extinguishes the baculum and retakes his seat. “Oh, ho! I want a blow-by-blow account.”

  “Sure, but first I have to ask about something else.” I straighten my shoulders and stiffen my resolve. I can talk about this.

  “What is it, Myla?”

  “It’s about Connor.” I fidget in my seat. “I think his soul may be trapped in Hell.”

  “It is, Myla.” Dad folds his hands onto the tabletop, which is his ‘I mean business’ move. “Connor’s permanently tied to the torture pits. I’m so sorry.”

  My body feels numb with shock. This can’t be right. Dad was supposed to find us a way out of this mess. “Aldred told me Connor was doomed to Hell, but I hoped we could change that. You know, pull Connor out to Purgatory or something. Get him a Trial by Jury. I thought you could help.”

  “I wish I could, Myla-la. I did some digging while you were gone. I found out everything. Connor died while Sakura was still alive, so now his soul is trapped in the torture pits.”

  “I was afraid of that.” I rub my neck in a weary rhythm. “What are we going to do?”

  Dad’s big blue eyes fill with sympathy. “I think you already know that.”

  A lead weight of dread settles into my stomach. “I need to summon Connor to a dreamscape and offer to kill his soul.” My throat tightens with a mixture of exhaustion and grief. “That’s the best I can do to help him.” My body trembles. I’ve only been out of the hospital a week; I’m not sure I can handle a killer dreamscape with Hell. Still, I can’t stand to think of Connor in pain.

  Dad reaches across the table and sets his hand on mine. “You’re in no shape to dreamscape with Connor, Myla.”

  “He can’t stay in Hell and be tortured, either.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about putting him somewhere less painful, at least for a little while. It’s not a permanent option but it will buy you some time. Nefer owes me more than a few favors, anyway.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Appreciate it.”

  “Now, let’s return to more pleasant subjects.” Dad slides the brownie box closer and takes a peek inside. “Empty.” He rises to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. Your mother stocked the freezer wit
h new ice cream from Earth.”

  My brows lift with interest. Humans suck at a lot of things, but dessert isn’t one of them. “I scoured that kitchen. Where’s she hiding it?”

  He offers me his arm. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I stand beside him and wrap my hand around his forearm. “Lead the way, General.”

  # # #

  It’s late by the time I slip back into my bedchambers, my belly filled with five different kinds of ice cream. Mom has finally gotten Maxon to sleep, but my mother ended up having to hold him in her lap like I did that first day in the hospital. The smile on her face says she doesn’t mind, but I can’t help but worry. Holding Maxon through the night isn’t exactly a scalable solution. Still, it’s better than nothing.

  I tiptoe across the floor to our bed, but as I get closer, I realize I needn’t have bothered staying quiet. Lincoln’s wide-awake, too, staring at the ceiling with red-rimmed eyes. I slide under the covers and curl into his side.

  “Dad confirmed it.” I don’t need to explain what ‘it’ is. Connor’s soul is trapped in Hell.

  “We can’t even bring him to Purgatory for a Trial?”

  “No. Dad will talk to Nefer. Maybe we can get Connor placed somewhere comfortable until I can dreamscape with him.”

  “Until we can dreamscape with him.”

  I cuddle deeper into his side. “And what if Connor wants his soul to die?”

  “Then, I’ll do it.” Lincoln’s voice breaks as he speaks. “And I’ll tell Mother about Sakura, too. She needs to know everything before she faces him for the last time.”

  “No, we’ll tell her about it.”

  Lincoln loops his long arms around me, pulling me onto his bare chest. “I love you, Myla.”

  “I love you, too.”

  A few minutes pass with our bodies entwined and souls finding a little bit of peace. Before long, we both fall into a deep and restful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It’s who-knows-what-o’clock in the morning, and Maxon is dragging me down a darkened corridor in Arx Hall. We thought that staying in Antrum would put his little mind at ease about Hildy, but if anything, being close to her has made him even more agitated.