Lincoln

by Christina Bauer

  Fortunately for me, there’s a long list of things I wish to know about Myla. Now, I finally have a chance to ask them. The evening just keeps getting better and better.

  31

  Myla and I stroll through the hedgerow maze, our arms swinging between us in time with our steps. There are so many questions I wish to ask her, so I launch right in. “What kind of music do you like?”

  “Oh, we don’t get much music in Purgatory. Only ghoul anthems.”

  My brows lift. “Ghoul anthems?”

  “You know, A Mighty Fortress Is Our Ghoul … Love Is An Undead Pasty Ghoul … Save the Ghoul, Grab Me Instead … that last one is new, by the way. The ghoul government trying to make it a hit, considering how everyone believes Armageddon will invade soon.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “As in, they want you to throw you to Hell in order to save their own skins?”

  “Sure.” Myla gives me the side eye. “Our ghoul rulers are a bag of dicks. Seriously. I hate them.”

  “And with good reason, it seems.”

  “What about you?” she asks. “What kind of music do you like?”

  “Human jazz mostly. Modern stuff.”

  “Oh.” She presses her lips together, hard.

  I pause. “Come on. You have an opinion.”

  “No, I don’t.” She mimes whistling while looking around. Sure, she doesn’t have an opinion.

  I tilt my head. “Myla, please tell me.”

  “I’ll put it this way. What do you find interesting about jazz?”

  “It’s not the notes they play, it’s the ones they don’t.”

  She punches my upper arm. “My point exactly. There’s a song. So sing the sucking song!” She makes her voice go all over the place. “Iiiiiii geeeeeet no kiiiiiiiiiiiicks from champaaaaaaaaaagne!” She stops, eyes me again. “They know the song right?”

  “That they do.”

  “So juts sing the fucking song.”

  I nod sagely. “You have a point.”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Next question,” I say. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

  “Self taught.”

  “One hundred percent?”

  “Sure. You?”

  “Nat. The Citadel.”

  “In Heaven?” Myla lets out a low whistle. “That’s intimidating.”

  I roll my eyes. “Did I hear the word intimidating from your lips? You’re an amazing fighter without any training.” Stopping, I pull her closer. “You have no idea how attractive that is.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Her irises flash red. She grins.

  “There, now.” I wink. “That got your eyes to spark.”

  She pushes my shoulder again. “You suck, you know that?”

  “Only when called for.” Myla’s eyes flare again, and I decide to change the subject before things get out of control. I’ve another question on my list. This one is less fun, though. “Have you ever heard of the Tithe?”

  “Nope.”

  “He’s a thrax warlock. Is there any reason he might be interested in you?”

  Myla shrugs. “Ugh, I don’t know. I get weird followers from the arena. Last month, this quasi found gum on his seat and sent me a pile of hate mail. People are weird.”

  I laugh. “So true. In fact, I have a scribe dedicated to nothing but random death threats over trivia.”

  Thinking about the Tithe makes me recall Walker’s warning—how I may be placing Myla at risk. “Another question for you.”

  “Wow. You’re using your I’m such a badass prince tone.”

  I grin a little. It’s nice that Myla can already tell my moods “I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but someone has warned me that my relationship with you places you at serious risk.”

  Myla pauses, her face blank. “So?”

  “Are you concerned?”

  “I don’t know. What’s the risk? Are my arms about to fall off or something?”

  I shake my head. Arms about to fall off? Only Myla. “I doubt that, but possibly.”

  “Let me tell you one thing.” Myla wags her finger in my face. “All my life, people have tiptoed around me. Don’t fight evil demons to the death … Beware of making new friends … Avoid the angels! And I’ll tell you one thing, mister.”

  I can’t wait to hear this. “What?”

  Myla glances around. “Oops, I got so carried away, I lost my train of thought there.”

  If I didn’t love Myla before, I adore her now.

  Myla snaps her fingers. “Oh, I’ve got it. I am so done with all this let’s make decisions for Myla bullshit. I don’t know who is feeding you a pile of crapola that you’ll hurt me, but that is not happening. I like you. I’m not going anywhere. Sheesh.” She grips my hand, marches forward a few paces and then pauses. “You’d think I didn’t kick ass like it’s my job. Oh, wait. It is my job.”

  “And you do your work so very well.”

  “Damn right, I do. And another thing.” She tosses her head, making her hair cascade down her back. Fresh rage and energy fill the air around her. “I’m so not worried about some dude named … what was it again?”

  “The Tithe.”

  “He’s a thrax, right?”

  “Thrax warlock.”

  Myla gives her eyes a half-roll this time. “No offense, but outside of you, all the thrax kinda suck in battle. I mean, I’m the greatest warrior in Antrum and it really wasn’t all that hard.”

  “You have a point. I’ve won the last ten years or so, and the competition has never been that stiff.”

  “Sha.” Myla sighs. “If anyone, it’s Armageddon that keeps me up at night.”

  I already know the answer to this question, but I can’t help but double-check. “If Armageddon invaded, do you know anyone who could get you out of town quickly?”

  “Oh, sure, there’s this one ghoul. He’d so anything for me.”

  That would be Walker. I try not to feel jealous about the he’d do anything for me line. It doesn’t work.

  “Long story short,” continues Myla. “I know one ghoul who is awesome. But the rest of the undeadlies? I hate them with the fire of a thousand suns. Quasis like me, we’re basically slaves to them. Did you know that?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I should.”

  Myla stops. This seems to be her default move when she’s about to make a big proclamation. Can’t wait.

  “Let me get this straight,” says Myla. “You’ve been here months and … what have you been up to, exactly? How come you know dick about my people?”

  “In truth, I’ve been researching one particular quasi versus their entire population.”

  Myla’s brows lift. “So you’re a stalker.”

  “Only to ensure your safety. And never when you were alone or doing personal things. Unless when you say personal things, you count the night in the stables, but you were absolutely aware of my rubbing your back.”

  Myla smacks her lips, hard. “You know what?”

  “Hmm?” I blush something fierce. My obsession with Myla really isn’t very princely.

  “You know what?” Myla asks. “You’re very cute when you’re embarrassed.” This time, her eyes flicker blue. Another curious item to add to the List Of Awesome Things Done By Myla Lewis.

  I bow slightly. “I’d hoped to impress you.”

  “You have.”

  I huff out a breath. “I wonder sometimes.”

  And I mean it. With this woman, I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “If it’s any help, you have permission to protect-stalk me any time.”

  “That’s comforting to know, especially since I’ve already assigned myself the job.”

  Myla slowly licks her lips. Her irises flicker read again.

  I pull her against me. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Me, being protective. Taking charge.”

  “Mmmmmaybe.”

  “I got your eyes to spark again.�
�� I brush the gentlest of kisses across her lips, then pull away. Anticipation makes everything better.

  And with Myla, I plan for lots of time to enjoy each other.

  32

  Myla and I walk through the maze for hours, talking about all sorts of topics and nothing at all. Being with her is a jolt of color in an otherwise grey life. It’s close to midnight before we part. Although the hour is late, there’s no way I can sleep. Fortunately, it happens that Lady Babylon is just starting work at the Echo Vortex. She said I could visit any time during her shift.

  Hands down, Lady Babylon is one of my favorite thrax. Even though I last met her at the ripe old age of eight, she made a lasting impression. I look forward to the visit immensely.

  Which brings me to the present moment. I stand outside a large round tent made of black tapestry woven through with images of concentric circles, the emblem of Transfer Central, the folks who manage our transport platforms. This place is our temporary Pulpitum tent. Officially, it’s for demon patrols. In reality, it’s our evacuation plan in case Armageddon invades. After all, although my people respect Verus’s wishes, that doesn’t mean placing our entire court at risk of immediate annihilation.

  I step inside the tent. The moment I’m inside, a series of candelabras flare to life on the periphery of the tent. Lucas enchanted these; it’s a nice touch. I step into the center of the tent. My footsteps clank as I go along. That’s because the floor here is not earth at all, but a large round metal platform that will transport me deep underground to Antrum.

  I stand in the center of the metal circle, gripping my hands behind my back. “Activating temporary sta—”

  The entrance flap to the tent shifts. The Earl of Striga steps inside. “Excuse me, my prince. May I have a word?”

  With a sweeping glance, I scan Lucas from head to toe. His shoulders are slumped. Meanwhile, his normally neat dreads are knotted and askew. Even his long purple robes look rumpled. I know the Earl of Striga. He’s rarely anything but careful in his appearance.

  The warlock is not here with good news.

  “Of course, Lucas. What is it?”

  “I don’t know how to say this.” Lucas’s olive skin looks pale. He hasn’t been sleeping.

  “Allow me. Things have gone poorly with your Lord and his deal with Aldred.”

  “Yes. Gianna, the Great Lady of my house…” Lucas inhales a long breath. “She could die.”

  The title Great Lady means Gianna is not only an eligible woman. It also comes with a long list of duties for her people. Gianna is a great favorite with Striga in general and the earl in particular. She’s dedicated her life to helping young warlocks and witches who have challenges controlling her magic.

  I lift my chin. “And so, you can’t send troops to guard the exits of Antrum.”

  Please, let it just be that.

  “It’s more. I must take the out-clause in the contract. I can no longer participate.”

  “I’d say it’s a surprise, but you’ve been honest. I have contingency plans in place.” It’s a big point with me that my nobles share bad news, early and often. It makes things easier on us all. And I’m far less likely to be angry if they’ve given me an honest warning. There’s almost always a contingency plan that’s possible, if given enough time.

  Lucas hangs his head. “It’s worse.”

  A pang of worry moves inside me. “How so?”

  “Kamal and Horus may also back out.”

  “Lucas.” My voice takes on a warning tone. “How do they know you’re leaving the treaty?”

  “Aldred told them. He’s the one who got me to back out. Your scribes will receive the necessary paperwork today to confirm the change.”

  This could be helpful. “My scribes?” I ask. “Only them?”

  “Yes, I shall leave it to you to tell your parents. I can contain Aldred for a few days. Keep him away from your father.” He hugs his elbows. “I wish I could do more.”

  “You know my rules. Honesty deserves patience. We’ll work through this. What’s important is that the bond between Rixa and Striga remain strong.”

  Lucas shakes his head. “I must take my leave now.”

  In other words, whatever is happening with Aldred, it could change the basic alliances of our people. Striga might work more closely with Acca. That’s serious stuff. There are a number of trade routes and royal offices that Striga holds, all thanks to my sponsorship. I make the house rather wealthy. That said, there are other houses of magic that could be elevated.

  “Wait,” I command. Lucas pauses. “Don’t risk your entire house for one member. If you’re relying on my fondness for you to prevent me from favoring another house of magic, don’t. I leave for Antrum soon. Permanently. My goal is to build up an alliance of lower houses to match the warrior power of Kamal, Striga and Horus. None of you are irreplaceable.”

  Lucas looks up, his mismatches eyes wide with worry. “You wouldn’t.”

  “You lived through the rule of Acca. Thousands of thrax died in irresponsible attacks on Hell. There was hunger. Cruelty. Death. And those were just the thrax. Up on Earth? They went through two world wars thanks to unchecked demonic activity. Do you honestly think the same wouldn’t happen again if Acca gets the throne?” I step closer. “I have my role as ruler. I will do my duty.”

  Lucas stares at me for a long moment, his jaw hanging open. “Yes, my prince.”

  “You may go.”

  The Earl of Striga shuffles out of the tent. I hate to be so hard on Lucas, but I also know Aldred. The earl’s a blowhard. If Lucas stands up to him, Gianna will be safe. Even so, I have other tasks ahead of me. Once Lucas is well and gone, I retake my spot on the center of the platform.

  “Activating temporary station. Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus.” From the top center of the tent, a grid of white laser beams crisscross the tent, scanning me.

  A woman’s voice echoes through the chamber. “Identity confirmed. Nice to have you back, my prince.”

  “Good to be back, Cassandra.” As with guards, it’s important to know who’s who at Transfer Central.

  “We have you confirmed for a visit to the House of Mulciber today. Is that still your destination?”

  “It is.”

  “Confirmed and ready at your signal.”

  “Launch transfer on my mark.” I start the countdown. “3, 2, 1.”

  The massive disc hurtles into the ground. Mineral deposits, soil, magma … they all flash past as I speed by. As a child, I would try to rush out and touch them. Father would always pull me back at the last moment with a laugh.

  You’ll lose your hands that way, my boy, he’d say. And you need those to kill demons.

  I’d still try the odd reach toward the show of minerals and light. In those days, my heart brimmed over with wonder and passion. Somewhere along the way, I buried all that deep down. Memories appear. Myla and I, walking through the hedgerow maze.

  With my girl, that part of me is alive again.

  All the more reason to visit the House of Mulciber and inspect the Echo Vortex. If there’s any threat to my girl from the Tithe, I will discover the risks. And after that, I will end them.

  33

  It’s an especially long journey from Purgatory to Antrum. As I speed along, the Pulpitum platform shimmies beneath my feet. I firm up my stance. Transfers can be rickety, especially when the final destination station is old.

  Like the House of Mulciber.

  The platform jolts to a stop. I now find myself in a square chamber of rough-hewn rock. Before me stands a woman with cocoa skin and long grey braids. Her body and movements all have a ballerina’s grace. She straightens the folds of her pink gown. The emblem of white flames is emblazoned on her front; the symbol of Mulciber.

  “Greetings, Lady Babylon.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Call me Babs.” She rushes forward with her arms thrown wide. “And give me a hug. It’s been too long.”

  I accept the embrace. The House of Mulciber are bi
g into hugging. I find it one of their best practices. “Agreed.”

  She steps back and eyes me. “Last time I saw you, the top of your messy brown head came only to here.” She taps her right shoulder.

  “I was but eight at the time.”

  Specifically, I’d visited the House of Mulciber for the last igniting of the Echo Vortex. Normally it’s a big court affair, considering how the vortex only lights up once a decade.

  “And we looked for you last month.” She sets her fists on her hips. “And where were you, eh?”

  “In Purgatory, along with the rest of the court.”

  “Well, I can’t show the vortex while it’s lighting up. That’s another nine and some years away now.”

  “I’d still like a tour, if I may.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “The basics of how the system works. When I last came here, my attention span wasn’t yet at its best.” I wink. “Eight years old and all.”

  “Of course.” Babs takes off down a thin corridor. Like everything else here, it’s all rough grey stone and not much else. Still, the place is clean and dry. Mulciber marks an early settlement for Antrum. We didn’t figure out how to get fancy with stone until much later.

  At the end of the corridor, there’s what looks like a stone wall. Babs taps the corner and the rock panel swings about, allowing us through. One past the entrance, there’s a short walkway that juts out a few yards into what looks like empty space. It takes a moment for my eyes adjust to the low light. Soon, I see that we stand inside a massive cylinder made of blue granite. All the smooth stone is woven through with threads of sparkling white.

  Babs steps beside me. She points to the darkened pit below us. “Angel fire gets ignited at the base of the vortex.” Bab’s gentle voice echoes through the massive tunnel. “It burns right up through the column, straight up to the top. As it goes, it activates all the white conductor threads in the blue stone. In turns, those crystals transfer power throughout Antrum.”

  I rub my chin. “We also have systems to regulate those things.” I get regular reports on air circulation, for instance.