I frown. “Will he really respect a Senator’s request for parlay?”
Cissy grins. “We have the Scala and Scala Heir in our bunker. He’ll talk.”
I glance about. “Where is Adair, anyway?”
Cissy fidgets in her robes. “Uh, she started getting hysterical.” Cissy makes her ‘eek’ face. “So I maybe slipped her a sedative. There was a medicine kit on one the shelves.”
Zeke chuckles. “My girl totally roofied her.” He keeps shifting positions to show off his muscly self in his cool new armor. Lincoln and I exchange a look.
Mom taps Zeke on the shoulder. “Let’s stay focused, Mister Ryder. We need to get ready to head outside.”
If Mom’s calling him Mister Ryder, that means he’s driving her crazy. I curl my mouth into a Cheshire cat grin. Welcome to the end of her comments on how I should have dated Zeke.
The Oligarchy frown. “Your plan is flawed. Maxon Bane is dead.”
I bite my lower lip, thinking. “Armageddon smells Scala power. As long as he doesn’t see me, he’ll think the Scala’s nearby. It should work.”
Lincoln smiles. “It’s genius.” He bows slightly to my mother. “Excellent addition to our little operation.”
“Thank you.” Mom’s voice is level; she’s in Senator mode now. “We’ll say we knew of his plan and have prepared for a counter-attack.” My stomach goes all goopy with pride. It’s so freaking cool to see Senator Lewis live and in action.
Mom points to a spot along the back of the room. “There’s a secret exit behind those shelves. It opens to the great dune behind the rock wall. We’ve checked the periscope. Armageddon’s troops are deployed on the low sands in front of the wall. If you stay behind the dune, you’ll be hidden.”
I picture Mom, Cissy, and Zeke facing Armageddon. My mouth droops into a frown. “I don’t know Mom, that’s too dangerous for you guys.”
Zeke shrugs. “It’s a lot less dangerous than sending you out there alone.”
Lincoln nods. “He’s right.”
I scratch my neck, trying to think of every contingency. This is all going so fast, we’re bound to leave a stone or two unturned. My gaze lands on the four ghouls seated across from me. Those four blockheads certainly need some extra consideration. “And what about leaving the Oligarchy here. You know, by themselves?” I don’t trust them alone for five seconds.
Verus takes to her feet. “Levi and I will remain in the bunker with WRD-7 to ensure the Oligarchy finalize the treaty and–” She takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Maintain their focus.”
The Oligarchy turn to face Verus. “We shall never waver.”
In a miracle of self-restraint, I stop my eye roll before it starts. Sure, you guys would never waver.
Lincoln gives my hand another squeeze. “What do you say? Do we have a plan?”
I scan the faces in the room, everyone appears set and focused. Closing my eyes, I take a quick internal inventory. I’m jacked up on nervous energy, but that’s typical before a fight, comforting even. “Yeah, let’s get rolling.”
Mom heads to the bunker’s exit with Cissy and Zeke behind her. Meanwhile, Lincoln and I explore the shelves along the back wall. It doesn’t take us long to find the panel that Mom told us about. With a light shove, the shelves easily slide away, revealing a low and dark tunnel in the concrete wall.
Here we go.
Dropping onto my hands and knees, I crawl inside the darkened hole. Lincoln follows closely behind me. Sensing him nearby—feeling his movements in sync with mine—steadies my frayed nerves. Forever ekes by as we scramble inside the passageway, following a never-ending series of turns and straightaways. Finally, we reach a panel of sand at the tunnel’s end. Dim light reflects through the granules. My heart jumps into my throat. We’re close to the surface.
I set my fingertips inch-deep into the sand. It’s warm and fine. An odd calm flows through me as my mind captures every aspect of this moment, taking a kind of picture that I may treasure (or be haunted by) for the rest of my life. I’m outside myself, knowing that I pause at the tunnel’s end, about to test my new powers, and with so much at risk. After that, the moment’s gone, collapsing into one great crush of nerve-jangling panic. My fingers tremble in the sand. The best thing I can do is move on. Fast.
Gritting my teeth, I press my body through the sand and emerge onto the Gray Sea beyond. A fierce wind howls through my ears and whips my hair about. Low gray clouds hang overhead. The stench of sulfur hangs in the air. I belly-crawl to the top of the dune with Lincoln close beside me. We lay side-by-side on the warm sand and peep over the lip of ridge.
My breath catches. The scene before us can’t be real. About twenty yards below, hundreds of demons are arrayed in concentric circles on the desert floor. Armageddon stands off to one side, his tall body leaning against the black stone wall. At least he’s far enough away that I don’t feel his aura of terror. I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
I quickly catalog the body position of all our enemies. None see us in our hiding-spot. Instead, they’re all focused on the massive Manus demon at the center of the crowd. This gorilla-like monster is the largest creature I’ve ever seen. Hoisting its long arms high above its head, the Manus slams its fists onto the desert floor, scooping up piles of sand and throwing them off to one side. With each throw, I feel my heart sink a little lower. He’s almost uncovered the circular metal portal that marks the doorway to our bunker. Not good.
My eyes grow large with understanding. So that’s what’s been rattling over our heads. The Manus demon’s trying to break in, or scare us into coming out. I scan its boulder-sized body and trunk-like limbs. Dang, that thing looks tough to kill. Who knows how hard it will be to move to Hell?
The circular door springs to life, igniting into a ring of white flame. The Manus demon leaps out of the fire’s path. The muscles around my throat tighten. Those flames are Mom, Cissy, and Zeke, about to face a horde of demons. Hells bells.
Armageddon sneers. “At last.” His three-knuckled fingers twitch at his sides, anxious to touch his victim’s flesh and suck out their souls.
If he lays a finger on them, I’ll lose it.
The great circular door lifts from the sands. It’s a flat disc held up by four white pillars. On the floor between those columns stands my mother, Cissy, and Zeke, their bodies twitching as Armageddon’s aura slams into them. Adrenaline rockets through me. Every fiber in me wants to leap down the rock face and start kicking ass. I dig my hands and feet deeper in the warm sand, trying to root myself to the spot.
Armageddon steps to the edge of the circular platform, his nasty grin stretching wide. “Greetings, Senator.” He grins. “Come out to parlay?”
Straightening her shoulders, Mom speaks in a calm voice that echoes through the desert. “I come here today on behalf of angels, ghouls, thrax, and quasis.” She’s doing a really good job of fighting the terror of being close to a greater demon. “This unwarranted invasion of our–”
Lincoln gently sets his hand on my upper arm. “We’re on.”
I inhale a shaky breath. The distraction’s working. Now it’s all up to me. My body almost vibrates with fear. I’ve never felt this scared before.
I wiggle my body into the sand. The warm granules press comfortably against my belly. Closing my eyes, I raise my hand and call out to the igni. My heart thuds so hard, my pulse booms in my ears. Please, let the igni hear me.
Child-like laughter sounds in my head. A few tiny lightning bolts spin about my palm. My body tenses with excitement.
Lincoln’s voice rings in my ears: “Great, Myla. You’re doing it.”
The laughter grows louder. Then, it’s drowned out by Armageddon’s voice. “I have a surprise for you, Camilla.”
My eyes pop open. What’s he up to?
Mom folds her arms over her chest. “What could you possibly do to surprise me?”
The King of Hell snaps his fingers once.
Although I’m aw
are of my mother and Armageddon, my consciousness stays fixed on the power dancing about my hand. The igni multiply, their thin bodies tickling my skin, their voices growing louder.
A dark spot appears in the Gray Sea sky. It grows larger, turning into a massive pair of flying demons with the eagle bodies, lizard heads, and bat wings. In their claws they carry a giant metal box. With a great thud, they drop their burden onto the gray sand.
I squint through the fierce wind. A rusted container about eight feet square sits on the desert floor. My attention’s drawn to it; something important lies inside.
Fewer igni circle my palm. Their music fades from my mind.
Armageddon knocks on the metal container. “This is for you.” The sides of the box fly open, killing a few demons in the process. Armageddon doesn’t glance in their direction; instead his focus is riveted on the body chained to the box’s floor.
I can’t help but stare as well. A figure crouches along the bottom of the container, heavy chains wrapped about his hands and feet. He has matted hair, a grizzled beard, and cocoa skin that’s covered in purple bruises and oozing wounds. Scraps of gray fabric hang about his broken body and dirty wings. He’s an angel, or what’s left of one.
Armageddon gestures to the broken figure. “Senator, may I present the archangel Xavier.”
All breath leaves my body. This is my father, the one who traded an eternity in Hell for my mother’s life.
Mom stares at the broken angel. Tears well in her eyes. She half-turns to my hiding place on the ridge, but catches herself before going too far. She stops, steels her shoulders and swings her attention back to Armageddon. “I fail to understand how your surprise relates to this hostile invasion, Armageddon.”
A chill crawls over me. My body freezes with shock. More lightning bolts fade from my hand.
Armageddon grins, showing a mouth of pointed teeth. “Ah, but you haven’t seen the best part yet.” He snaps his fingers again. The pair of flying monsters take to the air. Their talons sink into my father’s back and begin to heave.
Oh, my sweet evil. They’re pulling off his wings.
My gaze flicks to my father’s bearded face, contorted in pain. He grips his heavy chains, teeth gritted in agony. The lightning bolts around my hand die out.
Lincoln grips my shoulder. “What’s going on, Myla? The igni are gone.”
“That’s my father.”
The flying demons pull harder on my father’s wings. My body’s frozen with shock. My mind empties.
Armageddon rocks on his heels and laughs. His dark joy hits me like a punch to the gut. All breath leaves my body. My father’s been tortured while Armageddon laughs. Somehow that’s the most painful blow of all. A sob wells up in my throat.
Tears stream down Mom’s face. Cissy holds her hand and whispers soothing words. Zeke stands silent and stunned. Mom speaks in a low and ragged voice. “Whatever you’re trying to do, Armageddon, it won’t work.”
The desert echoes with my father’s howls. Loud cracks sound as bones snap and his wings are pulled free. Armageddon turns to Mom, his face twisted in evil glee. “Still not working?”
Mom’s face is colorless; her bottom lip quivers. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. I find my voice, though. Sob after sob break free from my throat.
My father’s body arches in pain as new wings sprout from his back. Small buds appear on his shoulder blades, tearing at his flesh. He screams again as huge golden wings burst from his shoulders. The self-healing power of archangels, used to torture him through eternity. This is so wrong.
I stare at my father’s broken body. Anger flows down my neck and shoulders, tightening every muscle. My wrath demon spews fire in my belly, filling me with white-hot rage. I turn to Lincoln, ready to explain what I’m about to do. Once I see the fury in his eyes, I know I won’t have to.
I rise to my feet, my tail flicking behind me in a predatory rhythm. Lincoln stands at my side.
Armageddon’s head snaps in my direction. “Look, who we have here. The little Arena girl and the thrax High Prince.” His eyes sparkle. “You’re King Connor’s boy.” His gaze flips back and forth between me and Mom. “And that girl’s your daughter, isn’t she, Camilla?”
Xavier slowly lifts his ragged head. His blue eyes glow with a soft light. He looks to Mom and rasps out one word: “Daughter?”
Mom offers him a gentle nod. Part of me knows I should see the love in her face and feel some kind of pain. But nothing can drown out the howls of rage inside me. I am tearing those chains off my father if it’s the last thing I ever do.
He swallows. “Is she–”
“Yes, Xavier.” Her eyes brim with tears. “She’s yours.”
The archangel strains to twist his head. He gaze rests on me. “She’s lovely, Camilla.” He forces his broken voice louder. “You’re lovely.”
They are soft words, and something inside me wishes I could feel their tenderness. But right now, all I know is fury. This ends, now. “That’s not all I am, father.” I raise my hand and call to the igni. Their voices chatter angrily in my brain as they whip around my palm. These are the dark children, the ones who send souls to Hell. They look the same as the good igni. Huh. I wasn’t calling the right ones before.
I grin. Well, I’ve got the hang of it now.
Armageddon leans back on his heel, folding his arms over his lean chest. “So, you’re the true Scala Heir. Interesting.”
I summon more igni around my palm. Their voices take on a harsh edge, like razor blades scraping across metal. “You almost have that right.” The igni multiply into a white column that’s seven feet tall. “I’m not the Scala Heir. I’m the Great Scala.” Beside me, Lincoln ignites his baculum.
Armageddon’s eyes flare bright red. “What are you saying? Where’s my son? WHERE IS MY SON?”
“Killed by his own hand,” says Lincoln. “He died a true thrax warrior.” He tosses his blade from hand to hand, sizing up Armageddon.
The demon leader throws back his head and howls. The sound rattles the desert. “My son is dead? MY SON IS DEAD?!” He crouches to Xavier’s side, grips his hair and yanks up his skull. “I want to you watch your daughter closely now, because I’m going to break her bones and drag her to Hell. She will fulfill my vow to torture Maxon.” He turns to me and offers a smug grin, certain he just scared the fight out of me.
Not even close, buddy.
Every cell in my body pulses with fury. “Try this on for size.” I blast my column of white lightning straight into the sky, pumping the storm clouds with bright flashes. “How about you get your goddamn hands off my father?” The clouds roll with an ear-splitting peal of thunder. “NOW.”
Growling, Armageddon leaps onto the ridge. Beside me, Lincoln flinches as the greater demon’s aura slams into him. Nothing happens to me this time; igni must block the effect. Armageddon strides toward me, raising his hand to strike. Every instinct I have screams for me to move, but I can’t control igni and dodge blows at the same time. And if I lose the igni, I lose this fight too.
The King of Hell swipes his fist toward my head. I wince, waiting for the blow. At the last moment, Lincoln jumps between me and Armageddon’s fist. His baculum collide with the demon’s stone-smooth skin, sending a shower of blood-red sparks through the air. The King of Hell pulls back his arm; his flesh is unharmed by the sword. The demon continues his onslaught, every volley coming faster. Time and again, Lincoln meets each blow before it connects with my—or his—exposed skin.
My regular self would be horrified at this moment: Lincoln in danger, my father in chains, everyone I love at risk, and all of Purgatory relying on me. But I lock those thoughts away, sealing them inside an internal vault. My mind snaps into the hyper-focus of battle mode. There is nothing but my task—moving demons to Hell—and the next step to accomplish it.
I size up Armageddon’s blows and Lincoln’s counter-strikes. The Prince can only give me a few more minutes; I need to move faster. To my right, the igni
column glimmers with power as it pumps more white light into the dark clouds. I set my fingertips a few inches into the column’s sparkling skin. Igni voices grow louder in my brain. Something new joins them as well: images of demons across Purgatory.
An idea forms. I know exactly how to speed things up. Excitement kicks inside my chest.
I pump more igni into the giant soul-column, then step inside myself. It’s oddly peaceful within: no wind, no sounds, only a hallow column of bright white light. Visions flash through my brain. I picture every demon across Purgatory. Crini, Manus, Papilio…more than five thousand evil faces flicker through my mind’s eye.
Turning my gaze upwards, I propel the soul-column higher until, like a geyser, the igni blast through the top of the clouds and rain down across Purgatory.
My mouth curls into a grin. It’s working.
In my mind’s eye, I see tiny lightning bolts descend around thousands of demons. The igni spin about the monster’s bodies, holding them in place. For a moment, all my captives’ misery, hatred, and cruelty crash through me, an avalanche of evil. I sense where each one stands, what each one is, and where each one belongs.
So I send them there.
The igni whirl and multiply around every demon. Thousands of soul-columns appear across Purgatory, a demon inside each one. Their lights flare brighter, then they all disappear, taking the monsters inside on a journey to Hell.
All of them, that is, except one. Armageddon.
My brain anxiously whirls through options and scenarios. How do I get this guy out of here? Somehow he blocked my last wave of soul-columns. I can’t let that happen again.
Armageddon takes another swipe at Lincoln; the Prince blocks the onslaught. Turning toward the demon, I raise my arms to shoulder height, my palms up and flat. I call the igni to me, asking them to change their path so they no longer reach for the clouds. They obey, and the full force of the soul column careens up my body, across my arms and straight into Armageddon’s side.
Take that.
Part of me knows this is an insanely risky move. I have no idea what it will do to create this kind of connection between me and the King of Hell. I lock those thoughts away and refocus on my task: getting Armageddon out of here.
Angelbound Page 40
