Acca

by Christina Bauer

  “Ethan,” corrects Lincoln. “The Captain’s name is Ethan.”

  Everyone stares in surprise at Lincoln. I know he memorizes the guard rotation for his personal chambers, but Lincoln tracks the Vault as well? I can only smile. My guy is so stealthy.

  “Ah, Ethan,” huffs Connor. “We’re here to see Cryptan, the Protector of the Vault.”

  Protectors are regular folks who get offered an eternal job. Personally, I got drafted into my supernatural gig as the great scala. Cryptan volunteered, though. Unless he meets an untimely death, he’ll spend eternity doing the same thing over and over, which in his case means sitting alone in a vault. Not my bag.

  “Cryptan is well, my King. My team checks on him every hour. He responded to my hail some twenty-seven minutes ago.”

  “Thank you,” says Connor. “You may return to your duty.”

  If you didn’t know Connor, you wouldn’t think he was super-pissed right now. That said, I’ve been hanging with Lincoln’s father long enough to know when he’s angry. The way his fingers drum on his thigh? The man is pissed. Ethan will get his ass handed to him later, I can guarantee it. In Connor’s mind, you don’t go around pointing swords at his son’s fiancée. However, Connor sees himself as too royal to reprimand anyone directly. For my part, I can’t wait to have a crown and the authority to kick verbal ass down here. Right now, I have to keep my mouth shut. That said, once I’m Queen? Closing down stupidity will be a total job perk.

  “As you command, my King.” Ethan goes back to stand against the wall once more, but keeps glaring in my direction.

  “You have a problem, Ethan?” I ask.

  “I’m simply doing my duty, Great Scala.” The way he says “Great Scala,” you’d think I’m something he scraped off his shoe. “Keeping Antrum safe.”

  Meaning I’m a demon in his homeland.

  What a dick.

  I take a step toward Ethan, ready to give the guy a piece of my mind. I am so tired of this demonist bullshit. Lincoln grabs my elbow, stopping me. “Connor will handle him. Not to worry.”

  “Fine.” Still, I make my eyes flash with demonic red light, just because I can. Ethan visibly trembles, which is a most satisfying sight.

  Lincoln steps up to the Vault door. It’s a small metal portal with a heavy iron handle and one of those spinny-dials you find on old-fashioned safes. It’s not much as doors go. However, this place doesn’t need tons high-tech in order to be secure. It’s got Cryptan, the protector who guards this Vault. For the record, I know Cryptan asked to guard this place alone for all eternity, but I still think we should give him two weeks’ vacation every year. This is yet another area where I plan some reforms once I become Queen. Bottom line? Using enchanted workers gives me the creeps.

  Lincoln pauses before the door. “I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax, and I request access to the Vault. Here with me are my parents and bride-to-be.”

  “What’s the pass phrase?” Cryptan’s voice sounds deep and crackly from disuse. It’s yet another reminder of how rarely he sees or talks to anyone. Poor guy. At the very least, we should enchant a dog to keep him company. Sheesh.

  “Aquila immortal,” says Lincoln.

  “That’s right.”

  The iron door slowly swings open. Cryptan stands in the shadows of the inner Vault. He’s a handsome middle-aged guy with short brown hair and a somewhat dazed look on his face. That said, Cryptan is also mega-huge, a fact that is highlighted by the oversized armor that he wears. Today, his helm is tucked under his left arm. “Greetings, royal family.” His mismatched eyes catch mine and twinkle. Cryptan is kind of a flirt. “And to you as well, Great Scala. I could sense someone coming and hoped it was you.”

  “Hey, Cryptan.” I start to offer him a high five and think better of it. I’m pretty sure his gauntlets have spikes on them. “Did you get a chance to look at any of the books I left you?”

  “Books?” Cryptan frowns. “Are they in Latin?”

  “Of course.” It was a real pain to find them, too. “They were on battle tactics. Written by Julius Caesar.”

  Cryptan takes a few steps backward. “I forgot, Great Scala. I shall endeavor to read them before you return again.”

  I mock-glare at him, careful to make my eyes glow blue with angelic power. “You better.”

  Lincoln and I share quick glance. He feels the same way I do about Cryptan. The guy needs some hobbies outside of standing around.

  We all step deeper into the Vault. The place is a large chamber made of shiny black stone. I’m not sure how big it is, actually. The room just stretches off into the darkness. Beams of white light pour down from the vaulted ceiling. Inside each pool of brightness, there hovers a single codex. Supposedly, there’s a book here for every thrax House that has ever been in existence, even if it was only five people and a cave. It’s a little mind-blowing.

  It’s also rather lovely. I’m used to seeing an enchanted codex that’s all white. Here, all the magic books take on a different appearance. Once they enter a beam of light in the Vault, the volumes turn larger and translucent. The recordings inside them flicker to life, like highlights from a television show.

  Ah, television. I miss it already. Did I mention that’s one reason I don’t like hanging out in Antrum too long? I need me some Human Channel.

  Anyway, hundreds of columns of light stretch off into the darkness, each one holding a single codex that hovers about six feet above the floor. Images of long-gone thrax appear inside the transparent interiors. Most of them look like someone I could see walking around Antrum today.

  As much as I complain about how the thrax are stuck in the past, there are moments like these where I totally get it. Lincoln and his family are part of a long line of people dedicated to keeping humans safe from the forces of Hell. They follow sacred traditions of the past so others can face the future without fear. All their open and honest faces flicker at me through the semidarkness. It’s beautiful.

  Cryptan marches toward one of the empty columns of light. “You have the codex for me?”

  I reach into my messenger bag and pull it out. “Here you go.” A question pops to mind. “When you said you could tell we were coming, was it us or the codex?”

  “Both. All protectors can sense the object they are protecting, as well as human souls. I know the soul-signature of some of the guards outside.” His upper lip curls with disgust. “It isn’t pleasant.” He grins. “Not like you.”

  “Thank you.” I blush a little and hand him the codex. Lincoln shakes his head. There’s a small smile on his face. Lincoln’s more the protective than jealous type. It’s one of the many things about him that I like.

  Cryptan takes the book and sets the magic item into a nearby beam of light. Instantly, the images inside come to life. For whatever reason, the ones that show up first are the thrax children we interviewed early on. Their mismatched eyes stare at us from within the clear depths of the codex. Lincoln wraps his arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder. We’ve been thinking about starting a family. I want to, but I know everyone says we’re too young to get married, let alone have a kid. Add in the whole “don’t even share the same toilet seat” speech from Mom, and I know I’ll get pregnant right away. Add it all together, and it’s got me hesitating to start a family.

  Then again, when have I given a crap about what everyone else thinks anyway?

  Lincoln’s father stomps over, stands beside us, and clears his throat. Dang, I’d almost forgotten he and Octavia had come along, they’d gotten so quiet. Connor rakes his hand through his white shoulder-length hair. His voice is gentle. “You shouldn’t let it bother you, you know.”

  I angle my head for a better look at him. His mismatched eyes are wide with sympathy. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  Octavia rushes to stand at her husband’s side. “The children.”

  “What about them?” Now, I’m really getting confused.

  Connor sighs. “We know how things work
with the great scala.”

  “You do.” My voice comes out flat. What most people know about the great scala is nothing. What few records there were got destroyed by the ghouls. People are forever making up rules about my situation.

  This ought to be interesting.

  “What do you know, exactly?” I ask.

  Connor’s face goes from Mister Sympathy to Captain Happy. It’s a little weird, as a matter of fact. “The igni were created to move souls to Heaven and Hell. Their magic has certain limitations based on blood. Having the blood of a human, demon, and angel empowers you to move souls to Heaven and Hell, am I right?”

  “You’re spot on.” Connor really researched this. I must say, I’m impressed.

  “The igni are very selective about who can have this responsibility. At any point in time, they only allow two people in all the after-realms to be born with the blood of a human, demon, and angel. That’s the Scala and the Scala Heir, am I right?”

  “Correct.” I can’t shake the feeling that another shoe is going to drop, though. No one understands how my powers work. Even I don’t understand everything. All the records have been erased, and when the igni try to explain, it’s all a bunch of gibberish.

  A gleam of satisfaction shines in Connor’s mismatched eyes. “This is where things turn unfortunate. I’m sure you both know that the Scala Heir is almost always the child of a thrax maiden and a Greater Demon.”

  Octavia steps forward. “We checked through all the records with Cryptan. That’s been the genesis of the Scala Heir for more than five thousand years.”

  Connor’s voice turns gentle. “That isn’t to say that mixed-blood parents don’t try for children. It simply doesn’t happen.”

  My brows lift. Now, I know where they are going with this. Ugh.

  Lincoln’s body stiffens beside me. “You don’t think we’ll be able to have a family, do you?”

  “We know you won’t.” Connor still seems way too pleased with that fact for my taste. I know he likes me as a person, or at least as a force of nature. Lincoln’s dad almost threw a party when he found his son was in love with the great scala. In fact, he thought it would be a superb way to get the upper hand with Aldred and the House of Acca.

  A chill prickles down my limbs. Acca. Connor is happy we can’t have kids, and I’d bet a million bucks that has something to do with Aldred. If we don’t have children, then the throne goes to the highest ranking Earl left alive. One guess who that is.

  I want to punch myself in the face for being so stupid. Why did I think Connor would actually change and be anything but Aldred’s toady?

  Connor pats Lincoln’s shoulder. “That’s all right, son. Your mother and I love you both anyway.”

  Hells bells. This isn’t happening.

  Lincoln focuses his attention on me. His right brow is raised in a look that says, “I’ll go with your lead here”. Which I totally appreciate. I don’t want to share my fertility status with just anyone, but I can make an exception for Lincoln’s parents. It will be their grandkid, after all. “You have your information all wrong.”

  Connor and Octavia speak at once. “We do?” Octavia looks excited. Connor? Not so much. All of which supports my “Acca getting the crown” theory. Well, screw them. Aldred can learn to live with disappointment.

  “It’s like this,” I say. “The igni have made it absolutely clear that they want my child to be the Scala Heir.” I don’t get into the details. Even so, it all has something to do with Verus and one of her visions for the future. Bottom line? Verus and the igni are in cahoots. And since neither of them will ever tell me anything useful about their alliance, I actively ignore it.

  Connor frowns. “Even so, it can take a long time to get pregnant.”

  “You might want to talk to my mom about that.” Which is all I’m saying on that particular subject. Let them put two and two together and see what they get. Which is the igni facilitating a pregnancy the second it’s possible.

  A long moment passes. Cryptan, who’s been characteristically silent this whole time, finally pipes up. “You’re with child, Myla?”

  “Not now, no. But, you know.” I shoot Lincoln a flirty look. “Soon.”

  Octavia wraps me in a huge hug. “Oh, I’m so excited for you both! A grandchild. What a warrior that boy or girl will be. I can’t wait.” She turns to Connor. “Isn’t this wonderful news?”

  Connor pulls at the neckline of his armor. “We better go.” He gestures to the codex. “The evidence is safe in the Vault.” He chin-nods toward Lincoln, which is a move Connor usually does when Lincoln’s completed something amazing. Nine times out of ten, it’s something that Connor should have done anyway. “Great work gathering the interviews, my son.”

  “Myla and I teamed on this. She deserves credit, too.”

  “Of course, of course.” Connor doesn’t give me any additional credit, though. He just starts mumbling to himself and marches out of the Vault.

  Octavia gives me another hug. “Don’t mind him. Many men have a hard time adjusting to the idea of grandchildren.”

  “Octavia!” Connor’s voice echoes in from the outer hallway.

  “I’m coming.” She rolls her eyes. “He’ll be in one of his moods. I can tell.”

  “You don’t have to follow him,” says Lincoln. He’s protective of his mother when it comes to Connor. Full disclosure: I’ve joined that club, too.

  “Prevention is simpler than cleanup, my boy. When Connor gets in a foul mindset, he can cause all sorts of trouble that I must then fix. Plus, these rough moods are rare. Your father’s a dear most days.”

  To you, maybe. But to Lincoln? Not so much. Connor basically handed over all major kingly responsibilities to Lincoln while my guy was thirteen. In other words, Connor keeps the crown while Lincoln gets all the work. That was a huge amount of pressure to place on the shoulders of someone whose biggest concern should have been acne, not ruling millions of thrax and keeping billions of humans safe. Octavia’s too in love with her husband to see the truth.

  “It’s best if I go now.” Octavia kisses Lincoln lightly on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” She rushes from the Vault at a pretty nimble pace for an elderly lady. Then again, Octavia was once a warrior.

  Cryptan gestures toward the door. “You had best depart as well. Too many secrets are held in this Vault. No one should loiter about.” That’s Cryptan’s standard statement after we hang for a few minutes. That said, I’m not letting him off the hook so easily this time.

  I wag my finger at him. “You promise to read the books I left you?”

  “That I do, Great Scala.”

  “Okay, cool.” I turn to Lincoln and pat my stomach. “I’m hungry.”

  He chuckles. “You’re always hungry.”

  I shrug. “Welcome to your future.”

  “How about we head to my study? I can have meals sent up.” I don’t like the flinty look in Lincoln’s eyes, at all. My guy is scheming about something.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Now that the codex is safe, I’d like to find out some more about the Wheeler Institute.”

  “You’ve been obsessing about that ever since Desmond said the name, haven’t you?”

  He winks. “What else would you expect?”

  From the guy who memorizes guard rotation schedules? Nothing less. “Where do you think we can we find some maps?” I ask the question, but I bet a million dollars Lincoln’s already thought this part through.

  “I keep the best ones in my study.”

  “Of course, you do.” Arx Hall only has about a dozen libraries. Leave it to my guy to sneak out all the good stuff for his private collection. I wrap my hand around Lincoln’s forearm. “Lead the way, babe.”

  Demons? The Wheeler Institute? Snack time?

  Count me in.

  8

  Lincoln and I step down yet another gilded passageway in Arx Hall, his family’s castle in Antrum. After leaving the courthouse Vault, we took a
transfer platform directly here. It’s one the many benefits of Lincoln being High Prince. The House of Rixa has his own set of Pulpitums. Sure, before it was faster to use the public Pulpitum to get straight to the courthouse station, but now? We’ll take the private Pulpitum back, thank you very much.

  It’s a short walk to Lincoln’s study. A Rixa knight stands guard before the golden doors. “Good evening, Your Highness. Great Scala.”

  I nod and smile, which hopefully hides the fact that I have zero idea who this dude is. “Hey.”

  “Hello, Felix,” says Lincoln.

  “Will you be staying long?” asks Felix.

  “A few hours at least,” answers Lincoln. “Please ask the kitchens to send up something for dinner.”

  My tail knocks on Felix’s breastplate, and the guy almost jumps out of his armor.

  “Sorry about that,” I say. “That was just my tail. He doesn’t like being ignored.” I pat the arrowhead-shaped end and talk in a baby voice. “Do you, boy?”

  Felix’s chainmail jingles as he leans forward. “And greetings to the great scala’s tail.”

  My tail straightens. That thing is such a ham.

  Felix pats his breastplate with a clink. “I almost forgot. There was a message for you, Great Scala.” He pulls out a small envelope from behind his armor. “I should have said something right away.”

  I pull the envelope from Felix. “That’s fine. Thank you for getting it to me.”

  Felix goes back to his station while Lincoln pulls open the door. We step inside, and I think what I always do when we hang here.

  I love this room.

  Lincoln’s study is a huge stainless-steel box. It’s easily one of the most modern places in Arx Hall. The thrax keep records on almost everything by using rolled sheets of parchment, and Lincoln stores his copies here in movable glass walls. Yeah, he’s that badass. Each wall is about three feet deep and is set on a track that’s built into the floor. Inside the storage walls, there are shelves to hold all of Lincoln’s rolled treasures. A whole troop of servants do nothing but sort through new sheets and put them carefully away.