Acca

by Christina Bauer

  Aldred waves to his soldiers. “Allow the Queen to exit.”

  Octavia scans Lincoln and me carefully for a few seconds. Her mouth slowly winds into a small smile. She’s two steps ahead of us, I’m sure. “I’m glad you’ll do your duty, my son.”

  “Always, Mother.”

  Octavia leaves the chamber. Once the sound of her footfalls disappears, Aldred refocuses on Lincoln and me. “Now, let’s return to business, shall we?”

  Let’s not.

  “Hang on, Lincoln.”

  Lincoln pulls my back against his chest. “Like this?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I said enough of your yammering to each other.” The Earl waves to his troops. “Move in. Take them by force if necessary.” The soldiers charge across the darkened floor.

  That means it’s time to go.

  I raise my arms over my head. From my soul, I call out to my igni.

  Help me, little ones. Take me and Lincoln into Heaven.

  Music instantly fills my mind. It’s sweet singing that only I can hear. These are the voices of the light igni, the forces that pull souls to the Pearly Gates. Hearing their lovely music instantly calms me.

  Suddenly the room fills with the brightness of a dozen suns. Thousands of igni materialize around Lincoln and me. They are small lightning bolts of power, each one no longer than my thumb. The igni whorl and dive around us in a column of light that spans from the floor to the ceiling. Aldred’s troops try to break through, but it’s no use. My igni hold them back with ease. The guards’ shadowy forms are barely visible beyond the wall of tiny, shifting lightning bolts.

  “That’s it, Myla,” Lincoln whispers in my ear. “You’re doing it.”

  I pull in more igni until the column grows taller than ever before. It starts to bore through the ceiling of the cave, up toward the Earth’s surface. The music of the igni turns deafening. Supernatural energy thrums through my soul. I pump in even more power.

  Move us, body and soul, my little ones.

  Their childlike voices become even louder. I don’t understand much of what they say, however there are words about Lincoln, love, and the future of the after-realms.

  Our feet start to rise from the floor. The shifting lights of the igni column swirl around us. Beyond that, I can see crossbow bolts slam into the rounded wall of light. The projectiles fall harmlessly to the floor. Go igni. Lincoln and I lift higher, then pause. There isn’t enough energy. Panic zooms through me.

  It’s as I’d feared. The igni can’t move both body and soul.

  I look over my shoulder to my angelbound love. Lincoln’s face contorts with worry. We’ve stopped moving toward the ceiling, but at this rate. In fact, we’ve drifted a few inches lower.

  My igni can’t do this. They might very well drop us soon. And based on how the guards are closing in, I don’t think we’ll get another chance at escape.

  I inhale a deep breath and scream with all the power in me. “I said, move!”

  The igni song grows louder than ever before. Lincoln and I fly upward on a bolt of light. We’re moving. Now it hurts like hell, though. A part-demon chick isn’t meant to go whipping physically into Heaven. At least, not without an escort like my father to cast a million protection spells on me. Pain radiates through every cell in my body. I won’t give up, though. Lincoln’s arms stay tight around my torso. He won’t let go, either. Although the agony is terrible, I know one thing for certain.

  We can do this. We can reach Heaven.

  10

  I hold on to Lincoln as we hurtle upward. A column of igni swirls around us, blocking out any view of the outside world. Although I can’t see a thing, the sense of movement is unmistakable. There’s no doubt about it. My little lightning-bolt buddies are drawing us onto a supernatural plane.

  Here comes Heaven.

  With every passing second, the air currents turn more intense. My limbs feel like they’re being torn off. Pain radiates through my bones. Getting into Heaven is never pleasant when you’re part demon, but this is especially painful. I grip more tightly onto Lincoln, pressing my cheek against his firm chest. Even through the wind roars in my ears, I can still hear my guy’s steady heartbeat. He’s part angel, so this stuff doesn’t hurt him. Touching him helps.

  A minute later, it’s all over. Blissfully-still air encompasses us. The igni disappear. Lincoln and I now stand before the Pearly Gates. I inhale a shaky breath. I’ve never seen the gates up close before. They’re a huge pair of doors made from intricate loops of shifting igni. This is one of the places where my little ones hang out when they aren’t helping me zap stuff around. On either side of this entrance, a barrier wall stretches off into the distance. It’s enough to make you feel ant-like in comparison.

  No one else is around outside of Lincoln and me, although that’s no shocker. Human souls get zapped into Heaven’s interior by yours truly. Angels fly their way in and out of Heaven. The Pearly Gates are rarely used.

  I scan the clouds for angels. There are none in sight. That’s strange. Dad told me that angels flew past the gates all the time.

  Lincoln gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right?”

  “Getting into Heaven hurts like a bitch. Once I’m here, it’s cool.” From what Dad told me, it’s that way for full-blooded demons, too. It was one of the reasons why they never expected an invasion from Hell. Oops. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ve been better.” There’s a sad look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

  I cup Lincoln’s face in my hands. The bristle on his cheeks tickles my palms. “Don’t worry about the codex. Mourn and Dusk said it was supposed to go to the Wheeler Institute. I’m sure that’s where it is right now, and we’re already prepped and ready to visit. We will find the codex again.”

  “I hope so, Myla.” He leans into my touch. “The thought of being parted from you…”

  My mouth falls open. Lincoln is not an “I hope so” kind of guy. He’s Mister Confidence. Something is off. “Hey, I know it sucked to have Aldred ambush us, but we’re warriors, right? We bounce back.”

  “We’ll try.”

  I’m about to give him a quick pep talk (okay, lecture) on being positive, when the sound of flapping wings fills the air. A shadow falls over us. Considering how bright everything is, the darkness feels heavy as a blanket. Looking up, I see a dozen angels flying toward us. The sun is behind them, so their faces stay hidden in shadow. Even so, I can tell that one angel has golden wings. Bet that’s Dad. Golden feathers are an archangel thing.

  A deep voice booms down from the skies. “Myla-la?” Oh, that’s my father, all right. I’m so happy to see him I decide not to give my standard speech about calling me baby names in public.

  I wave up to Dad. “Yup. It’s me. Lincoln’s here, too.”

  Lincoln steps away from my touch. He’s usually an affectionate kind of guy, so he must be in a mood. I’ll work on him later.

  Dad swoops around at top speed before slowly landing before us. He wears his knightly armor and holds a baculum sword of white flame.

  I grin. My archangel father is so cool.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Dad. “Why didn’t you get official passage to Heaven?” Typically, the process involves getting an angelic posse to carry you across the border, including all those anti-pain enchantments for those of us with a demonic side.

  Overhead, the other dozen or so angels hover in battle formation. All of them carry regular broadswords and wear lighter armor. My father acts as the General of the angelic army, so whenever something unexpected happens, he always calls in his troops.

  “No one’s attacking, Dad. We came here to follow up on your note.” My father still looks distracted, so I feel it’s necessary to clarify things. “The Wheeler Institute, remember?”

  My father scans the cloudy ground like Armageddon himself will pop up out of the mist. Then, I realize that’s exactly what had happened here, only hundreds of years ago. My father fought in the infa
mous Battle of the Gates, which took place right at this spot. It was the first time someone from my family defeated Armageddon. Needless to say, the King of Hell has been trying to kill us all ever since.

  Dad’s eyes narrow. “Are you certain there’s no trouble?”

  “No one is attacking, I mean it.” Good thing I’m telling the truth. My father can totally tell if I’m lying. It’s some kind of archangel-magic thingy.

  Dad doesn’t move. He doesn’t extinguish his fire-sword, either. “Then what are you doing at the Pearly Gates? I planned to lead the team that would carry you into Heaven.” Which would have been awesome. Getting carried around by my archangel Dad is pretty much the ultimate.

  “Myla’s igni brought us here,” explains Lincoln.

  A collective gasp comes out of the angels flitting overhead. A few voices echo down from above.

  “Igni don’t move physical bodies.”

  “It’s never been done before.”

  My tail gives them a little salute. It loves the attention, but I’m not too comfortable with the situation here. These are professional warriors and all. Even so, Heaven isn’t exactly Vegas when it comes to entertainment. Obviously, they’re paying super-close attention to everything we’re saying. Awkward.

  “It’s a complex story.” Lincoln glances at the angels. “Perhaps we should go somewhere private and discuss it.”

  “Of course.” Dad waves his arm, and the angels take off like bullets from a gun.

  My brows lift. “You train them to fly like that?”

  “Who else?”

  “That’s a pretty neat trick.”

  “Thank you.” At last, Dad extinguishes his baculum sword. Instead of a blade of white flame, he now holds two simple silver bars in his hand. My father’s mouth winds into a white-toothed smile. I swear, his teeth actually sparkle like a television commercial. “It’s so good to see you, Myla-la. You look more like your mother every day. Simply beautiful.”

  My heart warms with affection. After so many years of wondering who my father was, it’s beyond awesome to finally know him. “Thanks. I’ll tell her you said so.”

  Dad winks. “I’m counting on it.”

  Did I mention that Dad’s a bit of a schmoozer? Well, he is.

  Lincoln stares suspiciously at the clouds that obscure the ground. I know how he feels. As a warrior, it’s unsettling not to see the ground nearby. “Perhaps we could talk in your clubhouse.” It’s not really a question. Lincoln’s ready to vamoose.

  “Quite right.” Dad focuses on me. “By the way, what I’m about to do may count as a new power.”

  “Nice.” My father has a list of superpowers a mile long. They’re amazing to me, but since my Dad’s had them from the beginning of time, he doesn’t even realize they’re special, let alone keep track of them. So, whenever I run across a new one, I write it down in a journal. For example, “finding my daughter right away when she shows up in Heaven” is definitely going on the list. My journal’s about a quarter full, and I’ve only known my father for less than six months. “What are you going to show me?”

  “Remember how we flew into the clubhouse last time?”

  “Yup.” Dad’s clubhouse is a massive wall-like structure. Hard to forget your father fly-carrying you over something bigger than the humans’ Hoover Dam.

  “Well, here’s a shortcut.” Dad steps up to the Pearly Gates and sets his palm on the opaque surface. Circles of white fire billow out from his hand. The motion reminds me of ripples in a pond.

  “That’s funky.” It’s not his best though. One time, Dad actually made it rain fire. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an archangel create a meteor shower over the desert.

  A small smirk rounds my father’s mouth. “I’m not done yet.” Dad pulls open the huge gate and reveals one of the inner chambers of the Dominion Line, aka his clubhouse. I’ve been to this room before. The observatory. It’s a long and tall space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the City of Arches. Opening a door directly to this spot? Now, I’m totally impressed.

  “Well done, Dad.”

  “I thought you’d like it. While we’re in Heaven, I can use any door in one place to get anywhere else, if you get my meaning.”

  “I do.” And it’s totally going in the journal.

  11

  We step into a long room made of pearly-white granite. There’s no furniture around; this is more of a viewing area. I make a beeline for the window. The City of Arches stretches out before me. There are thousands of white buildings, all of them looping and twisting around each other. Some are solid stone. Others look as if they were cut from lace. Overall, it has the effect of white arches stretching off into the distance, all of them lurching at different angles. I rest my hand against the pane of observation glass. Small halos of vapor surround my fingertips. This view is phenomenal.

  Lincoln moves to stand behind me. His warm hand rests on my shoulder. “It is lovely.”

  Hey, now. Lincoln’s voice is so gloomy, it almost breaks my heart. “You’re sad about Cryptan, aren’t you?”

  Lincoln pulls my back against his chest. “Yes.”

  “I get that.” I lean my head against his shoulder and give him few seconds. No one can constantly be super-strong. Everyone has a right to get bummed out. Especially Lincoln.

  Dad’s voice sounds from behind us. “Do you two need some time?”

  “We do, but there isn’t any,” says Lincoln. “We should get to business. It’s been an eventful day.” Yow. That’s the closest my guy gets to saying everything is total shit. Leaving the view, I turn to face Dad and Lincoln.

  My father folds his arms over his chest. “Tell me what happened.”

  With that, Lincoln explains about Cryptan being dead and our codex getting stolen. My father questions every little detail, especially anything having to do with Desmond, the now-dead klepto demon. I let Lincoln do the talking. Maybe some sharing will help him break out of his funk.

  Soon Lincoln gets to the bit where Desmond and the dyad demons talked about the codex and the Wheeler Institute. Dad’s been pretty chill throughout the explanation. The second that Lincoln says the word “Wheeler,” my father’s entire body tenses. “I have some information for you.”

  Uh-oh. I don’t like the vibe here. “Why do I have the feeling I won’t like what you have to say?”

  Dad starts unhooking his angelic armor and setting it aside. “You won’t. It has to do with Lucifer.”

  In my experience, Lucifer plus Myla equals nightmare. Here’s the deal. Lucifer was once King of the Angels. These days, that’s Verus’s gig (she’s also the oracle who set up Lincoln and me.) Now, everyone’s heard how Lucifer went cuckoo and lost his job. What most people don’t know is that my father and the other archangels were the ones who had to arrest old Lucifer and lock him up. Even fewer know that Lucifer loved making super-magical bits of junk, which he then left lying around.

  Like Lucifer’s Orb.

  That was the last time my life crisscrossed with Lucifer’s. The guy left around a super-powerful orb that prevented me from doing my job, as in moving souls to Heaven and Hell. The Ghost Towers in Purgatory got so full, they almost exploded. Getting rid of that orb was a total pain in the ass. I don’t look forward to more creations from the Lucifer collection.

  I make a yuck-face. “Don’t tell me. Lucifer left more magical crap.”

  Dad’s never bullshits around when there’s bad news. “That’s exactly what he did.”

  Fuck-fuck-fuckity-FUCK-fuck.

  “Let me guess,” says Lincoln. “This little item, whatever it is, could free Armageddon from Hell.”

  “Right again,” says Dad.

  All reason flies out the window as I stomp my foot, toddler-style. “Come on!”

  Lincoln works hard to hide a smile. “Myla, I thought you were trying to become more regal.”

  I stick out my tongue at him, just because I can. “Okay, fine. I’m not acting like the most mature chick in
the after-realms right now. But please. I worked so hard to send Armageddon back to Hell with my igni. And since I did the sending, he wasn’t supposed to get out. Ever. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. It was a total “stay in jail permanently” card. And now, he’s scheming with Aldred to escape again.” I grip my hands in my hair and growl. Loudly.

  Dad stands frozen with his gauntlets half off. He slowly swings his gaze toward Lincoln. “You’ve known her longer than I have. Does she do this a lot?”

  Lincoln shrugs. “Give her a minute.”

  Demonic rage pumps through me until I’m positive my irises are glowing red. That’ll show them. “In case you forgot, “her” is standing right here.”

  Dad raises his hand. “But, Myla-la—”

  Lincoln cuts him off. “Don’t go there. It’s best not to talk until she cracks her neck. Just pisses off her wrath demon.”

  Now, I’m pretty sure there was some more chatting about me like I’m not here, but I’m way too pissed off about Armageddon and Lucifer to process that stuff. I start pacing a line in front of the glass wall. “I sent him to Hell. Igni soul column!” Some small part of my mind knows I’m speaking in sentence fragments. I can’t seem to stop, though. “Lucifer’s orb. Ghosts everywhere. Aldred and his freaking schemes. Gah!” I exhale a long breath. Look out the window. Jog in place for a few seconds. There, that feels better. As a final touch, I crack my neck from side to side. “So, Dad. What does this have to do with Lucifer’s Orb?”

  My father and Lincoln share a weird look. I make a mental note to grill Lincoln about it later on. “Yes, Lucifer liked to create magical objects.” Dad looks at me like I’m going to explode on him or something.

  “I know.”

  “And you realize that his objects are impossible to destroy?”

  “Yeeeeeeeah.” The thrax codex system works the same way. I’m sure if Aldred had the option, he would have smashed the Rixa Codex to bits. He couldn’t, though. Hence why it’s hidden on Earth.