“Nova Scotia.”
“That’s it.”
“Sounds perfect.” Lincoln scans the pile of documents. “I’ll find the latest patrol reports.”
I speed over to the right wall while Lincoln sifts through the pile of parchment. He quickly drags off a document from near the top of the stack. “Ah, here it is.” He scans the sheet. “The patrol disappeared in Boulders Beach, Nova Scotia. Ring any bells?”
“No, but I’ll check for it.” I step over to the correct section and drag out the glass wall. All the rolled parchments are marked with hanging tags. I find the area where the tags list all the human cities and institutions in Nova Scotia. “There’s nothing here on the Wheeler Institute or Boulders Beach.”
“Maybe they were misfiled.” Lincoln pulls out wall after wall and scans the tags. Minutes tick by before he’s through. “Nothing. Not a single scroll on the Wheeler Institute or Boulders Beach.”
“Could you have missed those places?”
“No, the Earl of Striga comes in once a month. He casts spells to find any missing cities or reports. Unless Boulders Beach and the Wheeler Institute were founded in the last four weeks, then they should have been in here.”
“Oh. That sucks.” Not much else to say other than that. Someone must have gotten in here. But how? I know for a fact that Lincoln asked the Earl of Striga to cast about a dozen protection spells on this chamber. My guy doesn’t trust Acca not to snoop around. As extra security, Lincoln has a twenty-four-hour guard outside. I rub my neck, trying to think of any other reason why the documents would be gone. “You have servants who file stuff for you. Could one of them have taken things?”
“Unlikely. There are a number of serious spells here to ward against that.” Lincoln marches over to the main door and pulls it open. “Felix, how long have you been on patrol?”
I can’t see Felix. Even so, I can hear his voice echo in from the outer hallway. “All day, Your Highness.”
“And has anyone come or gone from my study?”
“Only the messengers. They came twice to deliver new parchment. I watched them each time, just as you ordered. They set the sheets on your table and left. Is there something wrong?”
“Perhaps. Send word that I want the Earl of Striga here immediately.” Lincoln starts to close the door, thinks better of it, and reopens it wide. “And Felix?”
“Yes.”
“Have the kitchens rush up something for the great scala to eat.”
Yes! I cup my hand by my mouth. “I want demon bars. Cook has promised to stock them.”
“She means pizza,” says Lincoln.
“What’s a pizza?” asks Felix.
“It’s bread, cheese, and tomato pie. And remember. Get the Earl of Striga here within two minutes.” With that, my guy closes the door, turns to me, and gives me his most winning smile. “Now, what were we discussing?”
Right.
I know what Lincoln’s trying to do here. Mister Smoothie wants to avoid the fallout from derailing my demon bar order. I level him with what I hope is a serious look. “For the record, demon bars and pizza are not equal on the snack food value pyramid.”
Lincoln tries to keep a straight face. “And who made this pyramid?”
“Me. It’s my personal pyramid of value. And by the way, who doesn’t know what a pizza is?”
“Almost everyone here. Most thrax don’t leave Antrum. They aren’t trained to be warriors, so they’ve no business going to the surface where demons are. Besides, it’s a lot of work keeping a million people cleaned, housed, and fed down here. They have other things on their minds than human food.”
“Okay, I get that. That said, we should still bring some decent snack foods and DVD players down here. Enchant them or something. Believe me, the average thrax wants television, phones, and videogames. They just don’t know it yet.”
“The average thrax…Or you?”
He has me there. “Um, yeah. It’s totally me.” Lincoln and I have agreed to split our time between realms. Right now, I’m looking at six months every year with nothing to do but read books and act royal. That sucks.
A knock sounds on the door. “Your Highness? It’s Lucas.”
“Come on in,” says Lincoln.
The Earl of Striga enters the room. His long purple robes have the Striga pentagram embroidered on the front. As he walks forward, his long gray deadlocks sway behind him. His spell achievement beads click and clack, showing off all his magical knowledge. In other words, the Earl of Striga is a badass warlock. “How can I be of service, Your Highness?” He turns to me, and the movement makes the beads in his hair jingle. “Great Scala.”
Lincoln folds his arms over his chest. “I fear that someone’s been in here and taken parchments without permission.”
The Earl’s mouth falls open. “I’ll investigate immediately, Your Highness.” He closes his eyes and murmurs a spell. Circles of purple flame appear around his body. They have a special magic name—spell circles—but I think of them as supernatural Hula-Hoops. They slowly shift up and down his torso.
My brows rise. There must be a half-dozen Hula-Hoop thingies here. This is a pretty serious casting.
At last, the Earl opens his eyes again. Beads of sweat line his forehead. “The wards here are broken. Someone came into your study, perhaps a month ago. They took some documents.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe they broke through all my protective spells.”
“Do you know who it was?” I ask.
“That I can’t determine,” says the Earl. “I’ll need to bring in some help. Perhaps Elder Faustina could be summoned.”
“I don’t think you need to bother,” I say. “There aren’t a lot of folks that can break through your spells. And one month ago, Lady Adair was running around Antrum with Armageddon under her skin. Using his power, she could easily have broken in here.”
The Earl steps back. “That couldn’t have happened. You need to learn about our ways, Great Scala.”
Puh-lease. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me. Especially after what happened with Lady Adair.
“Excuse me, but weren’t you at the temple in Antrum when Lady Adair turned into freaking Armageddon before our eyes? We’ve got solid intelligence that Armageddon has a plan that involves the Wheeler Institute. Now, we don’t know the specifics of that scheme. Even so, I’ll bet it’s about one thing: getting the King of Hell back into Antrum. He’s not a complex demon. All he wants is to kill me and my family, and he’ll never stop trying.” It’s getting a little annoying, actually.
The Earl sighs. “I suppose you’re right.”
Damn right, I’m right. “There’s something else we’d like you to do.”
“Anything.” The Earl looks happy to move on from the whole Armageddon-in-Antrum convo.
“Can you tell us where the Wheeler Institute is located on Earth?”
A small smile rounds the Earl’s mouth. “Yes, easily.” He closes his eyes, speaks a few words, and opens them again. “There are more than one hundred Wheeler Institutes on Earth.”
“Are there any located in Nova Scotia?” asks Lincoln.
“Yes, in Boulders Beach.”
I fist-pump the air. “Hells, yeah!” Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“Are you pleased for your father, Great Scala?” asks the Earl.
Lincoln frowns. “What do you mean?”
“That particular Wheeler Institute has a Heavenly patron, the archangel Xavier. He’s the father of the great scala, isn’t he?”
My eyes almost bug out of my head. “Oh, yeah. Xavier is totally my dad. But he’s never mentioned being the patron of any school.” That said, a ton of places have him as a patron-whatever. Not many of them register on his archangel radar, though. Dad’s picky.
Lincoln steps to my side and wraps his arm around my waist. His face positively beams with excitement. “This is excellent news, Lucas.”
“It is?” The Earl looks downright flummoxed.
&nbs
p; “Yes, we need to get to the Wheeler Institute in Boulders Beach.”
“I could help you search for more documents here,” offers the Earl.
“Documents won’t cut it,” I say.
“Someone’s gone through a lot of trouble to make those parchments disappear,” adds Lincoln. “They won’t be easy to recover, and we don’t have a lot of time to gather evidence from the school.”
“And we want it,” I add.
Here’s the deal. Sure, we have the testimony from Mrs. Pomplemousse. However, that’s only one direct implication of Aldred’s alliance with Armageddon. We’d hoped to have more testimony, but when push came to shove, everyone seemed to forget everything, mostly because Aldred was blackmailing them. And evidence from friends and family isn’t admissible. Stupid thrax rules. Long story short, if there’s evidence on Earth, we’re getting it.
The Earl’s eyes widen. “Evidence? You mean against the Earl of Acca?”
“Yes,” I answer. “We think this school could be related to Aldred’s alliance with Armageddon.”
“Myla and I simply must visit the Wheeler Institute. Hard evidence is critical at this stage.”
“Can you really afford a jaunt to Earth?” asks Lucas. “Tomorrow is Thursday. Your case closes Friday. Per thrax law, you have only two days to present your evidence and related arguments to the Arbiter.” By the way, the Arbiter is the protector of the thrax court system. She’s like Cryptan, only a chick and a lot more frightening (or so I’ve been told.) Most people spend months planning their two precious days of speeches and arguments. Right now, it looks like Lincoln and I will wing it.
“We are going,” says Lincoln solemnly.
Lucas sighs. “Have you even written an outline of what you’ll say?”
“We said. We’re on it.” Don’t get me wrong. Lucas is a good guy, in general. But he does have a tendency toward mansplaining.
Lucas keeps on going like I haven’t said a thing. “Starting 9 a.m. tomorrow morning—and continuing through Friday at 5 p.m.—the Arbiter listen to your arguments as you highlight evidence from your codex. You have two precious days to make your case. Right now? It’s far too late to be out gathering new findings. At the end of the day on Friday, the Arbiter decides your case. Then on Sunday, your wedding takes place. There’s no room in that schedule for a covert mission to the Earth’s surface.”
“Myla and I have it covered.” Lincoln steps closer to the Earl. “What you need to ask yourself is this: how much do you want to end Acca?”
The Earl shivers so violently with rage, it sets his beads jingling. “That bastard Aldred has blackmailed my people for years. I want him gone. I’ll do anything, My Prince.”
“And I believe you.” Lincoln sets his hand on the elder man’s shoulder. “But I need your help.”
“Tell me. What can I do?”
“We’ll need spells, potions, and charms. All of them must be fine-tuned for only Myla and me. That way, we can investigate more quickly.”
“Agreed.”
“And one more thing…”
“Yes?” asks the Earl.
I worry my lower lip with my teeth. I know Lincoln well enough to guess what he’ll ask next. The Earl is not going to like it.
“Lucas, you must cast a compulsion spell to keep all of this a secret.”
The Earl takes a half step backward. “I would never betray you, Your Highness.”
“I know you wouldn’t wish to, my brother. But we’ve already seen your magic has been breached. Someone got into my study in the first place. Unless you cast an unbreakable compulsion on yourself, they may be able to pull information out of you against your will. Too much is riding on this mission. Myla and I can’t take any chances.”
I step over to Lincoln’s side. We do this double-team-intimidating thing on people sometimes. Our process is simple. Lincoln scowls. My tail swipes threateningly behind me. It works every time. When I speak, I take care to lower my voice. “We need your compliance on this. It’s important.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” says the Earl as he speeds toward the door. “I’ll need to get some supplies first.”
Lincoln and I exchange a dry look. Compulsion spells can hurt like fuck. No doubt the Earl wants to avoid the pain for as long as possible. We can’t take that risk though. Even if Lucas does hate the Aldred, the Earl of Acca has a way of getting people to do what he wants. “Hey, buddy?” I ask.
The Earl stops and turns around. “Yes, Great Scala?”
Lincoln waves the Earl closer. “How about casting that compulsion spell first?”
The Earl’s face falls. He catches himself quickly though. “Of course.” He starts mumbling more incantations. A bunch of purple light-hoops start swirling around him.
I lean my head on Lincoln’s shoulder. “How long does it take him to cast spells?”
Lincoln bobs his head from side to side. “These will be personalized spells, and Lucas casts with power from Lucifer’s crown, so…” He purses his lips. “About an hour.”
“Huh.” We didn’t have any of this magic stuff in Purgatory. Most of it is new to me. “And he’ll be casting us a bunch of stuff. It’s going to be a long night.”
Lincoln kisses my temple. “At least we’ll spend the evening with questionable pizza and excellent company.”
I wrap my arm around his waist and give him a squeeze. “That we will.”
Chapter Nine
I’m so sleepy I could punch someone. Why? It’s now Thursday morning—very early Thursday morning, I might add—and the Earl of Striga, Lincoln, and I have been hanging in Lincoln’s study all night, preparing for what I’m calling Secret Mission: Wheeler Institute. It’s not the best code name. Then again, it’s also 3 a.m. I’m creative during daylight hours and then, only when I’m killing something. At least, I’m wearing my Scala robes. They sure are comfy.
The Earl raises a small amber amulet in his fist and mumbles another incantation. He’s casting a spell of hiding on the amulet. Once it’s done, I can wear that necklace, walk around the Wheeler Institute, and no one will ever recognize me. Sure, humans can’t see my demonic side anyway, but if the school is in cahoots with the Earl of Acca, that’s another story. Who knows who might be running around there? If they’re from the after-realms, they would know who I am in a heartbeat. Not worth the risk.
The Earl slumps onto a leather chair. “It is complete.” He hands the finished amulet to Lincoln, who slips it into his man-bag of supplies for our mission. The Earl has been a real trooper in terms of helping out. We have a ton of charms and amulets in there now.
I offer the Earl my fist to bump. “Great work, you!” The guy stares at me like I’m insane, so I drop my hand. I keep forgetting how most thrax have lived their lives under a rock. Literally.
“Thank you, Great Scala.” The Earl nods, making the beads on his long dreads jingle again. “Is that all you require?”
Lincoln scans his man-bag. “Yes, we’re well prepared. Thank you.”
Lucas stares guiltily at the floor. “When do you plan to leave for the school?” In truth, Lucas knows the answer; he’s only asked this question a dozen times tonight.
Lincoln looks to his funky wooden wall clock. “We have to be in court in less than six hours.”
“And then after court—” I almost volunteer that we’re meeting with Dad before going to the Wheeler Institute, but I stop myself in time. As much as Lucas is being helpful, it’s not great strategy to tell him more than he absolutely needs to know. That’s another trick I picked up from Lincoln, by the way. I clear my throat. “Tonight we’ll head over to the Wheeler Institute.”
Lucas frowns. “It will be late by the time you arrive.”
“They’re in summer camp,” says Lincoln. “It’s not as formal.”
“Plus, Lincoln and I need to plot out some cover stories and strategies. We’ll put together something that they’ll buy; don’t you worry.”
“I try not to.” Lucas worries a bead
of spell achievement with his fingers. “But I wish I could do more. I should go with you…Or send some agents along.”
Lincoln leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His mismatched eyes turn super-serious. “So why don’t you?”
Lucas sighs. “That’s not easy to say.”
Sure, it isn’t. Now, I have a pretty good idea why that’s the case. This is the perfect opportunity to find out if I’m right. “The Earl of Acca has something on you, am I right?”
Lucas sighs again. Shakes his head. Stares at his shoes. He doesn’t reply, though.
That’s totally a yes.
For the record, it used to stun me how Aldred got such a tight grip on all the other Houses. I mean, the guy has crap skills as a warrior, which is all the thrax care about. So why does everyone bend over backwards for him? The man is great at digging up dirt and blackmailing. And after what I overheard from the dyad demons? He also loves putting together deals, some of them sealed with magic.
Not that this makes the situation with Acca less awful. Still, it’s good to understand your enemy.
“I take it back,” I say. “You don’t have to answer that.” Because basically, you already did.
Lincoln leans back in his leather club chair. His eyes are still narrowed, which means he’s scheming up a storm. “Thank you for what you’ve done, Lucas. If you’ll excuse us, Myla and I have additional planning to do.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Lucas slogs from the room. I’d feel sorry for him, but then where would the pity stop? I’m sure that Aldred is blackmailing pretty much everyone except Lincoln and me. Us, he wants to kill. We’re lucky like that.
Once Lucas is gone, I turn to Lincoln. “And that, my dear sir, is the only thrax who’s got any spine against Aldred…And it’s not much of a spine at all.”
Lincoln chuckles. “Which is why we need to run through some game plans. We know it’s the Wheeler Institute. We know it’s in summer session. And we know I have a more authoritarian air while you give off a youthful vibe.”
I blink prettily at him. “You’re saying you want to play teacher and student?”
Acca (Angelbound Origins Book 3) Page 8
