Angelbound THRAX

by Christina Bauer

  Double-damn.

  Once I’m out of secret passages to check, I plunk my butt back on the couch. Cissy slides in beside me. “I take it you’ve tried every secret passage?” she asks.

  I scrub my hands down my face. “All the ones that I know of.”

  “So we’re back to where we started.” Cissy sighs. “How do we get out of here?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Cissy lifts her chin. “How about we fight it out?”

  Considering how my friend is a crap warrior, I’ve never loved her more than I do in this moment. Cissy has my back. But for once, fighting isn’t the answer.

  “There are too many guards between here and the Pulpitum. And even if I could kill them all, that’s bad PR. Plus, it’s dangerous to get into hand-to-hand combat fighting while I’m pregnant. That should only be a last resort.”

  “I’ve got it. How about trying your igni?”

  I grab a couch pillow and hug it to my stomach. “I’ve been calling my igni for hours. They haven’t answered me once.” I pick some stray threads from the tapestry-style fabric. “I think that’s why my igni were so insistent on getting me a message last night. They must have known they wouldn’t be able to reach me today.”

  “So no transport help from igni.”

  “Not this time.”

  My igni don’t exist like other beings do. I still don’t understand what makes them come and go, let alone talk to me. This isn’t the first time they’ve gone silent on me for no reason. My father says it’s because they must take a fractured form in the after-realms in order to move souls.

  “Hold on a sec.” My eyes widen with a realization. “My igni did give me another message last night. They were trying so hard for me to listen to them, I think they knew it would only be my only way to escape today.”

  “What’s that?”

  I worry my lower lip with my teeth. Sure, I want to tell Cissy all about the LK Route, but based on what Lincoln said, it only has room for one person. That means I’m going solo. Sure, Cissy has other ways to leave Antrum, but she might get interrogated for information about me. The less she knows about certain things, the better.

  “Come on,” urges Cissy. “What did your igni tell you? How are we going to escape?”

  “This escape route is just for one person. And honestly? It’s best if you don’t know the particulars, just in case anyone asks you where I went. And when I say ask, I mean in the sot-so-nice way.”

  Cissy’s mouth rounds into an O shape. “Got it.”

  “What’s important to know is that I can reach any spot on Earth that I wish in, say, about an hour or so.”

  “Awesome.” Cissy sits up straight. “How can I help?”

  Did I mention that Cissy is amazing? She is.

  I tap my chin as I think through our options. “You should definitely go to Earth first. Say you need to return to Purgatory for diplomacy stuff. After that, take a few wrong turns in case you’re followed. Then we can meet…” I rack my mind, trying to think of a good place on Earth for me and Cissy to reconnoiter. Beyond a sketchy island in Nova Scotia, I’m not what you’d call an expert on Earth geography.

  “How about we meet at the top of the Empire State Building?” offers Cissy. For the record, Cissy loves two old movies that feature the Empire State Building: An Affair to Remember and Sleepless in Seattle. I’ve seen both more times than I’d care to admit.

  Still, I know the spot. Tapping my lower lip, I think through the suggestion. The Empire State Building is a touristy place, so strange people come and go. It won’t look weird for one of us to hang out and wait for the other. “That’s perfect, Cis.”

  Cissy frowns. “But will you be safe in Antrum without me?”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. The Razor Guards left. All I need to do is ask my regular thrax guards to keep me safe while I go on a walk to parts unknown.” I mime my fingers strolling away.

  “Will they really let you walk around?” Cissy makes her ‘eek” face. “Ethan and Evil Lincoln seemed pretty set on keeping you in your chambers.”

  “But that was before Octavia got involved. I’ll throw her name around and say I need some exercise for the baby. They’ll agree, I’ll sneak off, and no one will get hurt. Everything will be fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Mostly because I don’t have another choice, not that I share this part with Cissy.

  With our plan in place, I walk Cissy to the main doors. Outside, I find that Maybe Manfred and Could Be Bob are still on duty.

  “Hey, uh, you,” I say to Maybe Manfred. “Can you please make sure my friend gets safely to the Pulpitum?”

  “As you command, Your Majesty,” says Maybe Manfred.

  I turn to Could Be Bob. “Where’s Williamson?”

  “He had to step away,” replies Could Be Bob. “He should be back any minute.”

  I screw my mouth to one side of my face, thinking. What I need to do doesn’t really require Williamson. “If I wanted to take a walk, can I do that?”

  Could Be Bob frowns. “I’m not sure that’s allowed.”

  I cup my hand by my mouth. “Maybe I should call for Octavia, then.” Here in the main palace, the hallways are loaded with her spies. They’ll get a message to her in no time flat.

  “On second thought, that will be fine” says Could Be Bob. “I’ll just need to accompany you. And maybe bring along some other guards as well.”

  “How many?”

  Could Be Bob winces a little. “Six, all from the thrax royal guard.”

  I run though the process in my mind. Earlier, Lincoln said that I should find the last lime kiln in the row, touch the top, and say “in thrax sic hunt.” With that, the fiery oven turns into a mini-Pulpitum transfer station with room for one and some kind of booby trap to stop anyone from following me.

  In other words, it doesn’t matter how many guards there are; none of them will expect me to enter a lime kiln. Plus, it will be too small for them to follow, and the booby trap will keep them off my trail.

  I shoot the guard a thumbs-up. “Six is fine. Whatever. I’ll be right back.”

  Could Be Bob bows slightly. “As you command.”

  Cissy and I give each other a quick hug good-bye. Once I’m back inside my rooms, I scrounge around for a carrier and some necessities. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

  I soon find a canvas satchel that the servants use to bring in stuff for the pantry. It makes the perfect backpack replacement. Into that sack, I add a hairbrush, toothbrush, a few more necessities, and I’m done. There really isn’t time to do a thorough packing job. Besides, I’m heading to Earth, the land of buying stuff. I grab some lesser jewels to pawn in case of emergency.

  This is going to work. It has to.

  With my satchel slung over my shoulder, I saunter up to the front door and swing it open, expecting to see Could Be Bob waiting for me with six of his buddies.

  They aren’t there.

  Instead, a dozen Razor Guards wait outside. My heart sinks. I give them a little wave. “Hey, guys. Where are all my thrax warriors?”

  A Razor Guard steps forward. “They went with the Senator to the Pulpitum station.”

  Huh. “Do you have a name?”

  The Razor Guard takes a half step backward. “What?”

  “It’s not a trick question. What’s your name?”

  “Ethan Unit 126-X.”

  “That’s a name?”

  “When we entered into service for the Supreme Leader, he gave us all new names.”

  “After himself, of course.”

  “It’s my honor to be named after him.”

  “Whatever. I’m calling you X.”

  “X?”

  “Trust me, it’s a step up.” I set my fist on my hip. “Now look, X, I’m going on a walk right now. If you and all the other Ethans want to join me, that’s fine. But I am going.”

  I start to step away, but X moves into my path, blocking me. “The Supreme Lea
der has ordered for us to guard you here. Your beloved Lincoln agreed. Our mission is to keep you safe until the doctors come for your procedure.”

  There are so many things wrong with that series of statements, I don’t even know where to begin. The Supreme Leader shouldn’t be ordering anything. Evil Lincoln might be the fake king, but he should be running the show. And that’s not even the worst part.

  Huh. Maybe I heard that last part wrong.

  “Did you say procedure?” I ask.

  “I did.”

  “And what procedure would that be?”

  X chuckles behind his black bandages. I’m not going to lie; it’s a creepy sound that sends cold tendrils of fear up my spine.

  “Why,” says X, “it’s my understanding that your husband explained this to you already. You’re a danger to the baby. Everyone’s agreed you must be sedated until after you give birth.”

  For a long moment, I can only stare at him. If Ethan didn’t expect my attack, then I certainly didn’t expect this countermove from him. Doctors? Sedation?

  The world takes on a dreamlike glow.

  Ethan is sending doctors to sedate me.

  My own thrax guards have vanished.

  And my real husband is still trapped somewhere in a sketchy research lab on Earth where they’re trying to drain his soul.

  In such situations, there’s only one thing you can say.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

  Chapter Eight

  There’s a moment that lasts forever where I’m staring at the bandaged faces of not only X, but all the Razor Guards. My mind spins over everything I could do in the moment to escape them and reach the LK Route. With each passing second, fighting my way out is looking like the only viable option.

  The rumble of voices and footsteps fill the hallway. I glance toward my left. Sure enough, Evil Lincoln and Ethan are marching toward me, accompanied by a bevy of very worried-looking royal physicians. Even from a distance, I can see the fear in the doctors’ eyes, along with the light glinting off the syringes all of them grip in each hand.

  My jaw falls open. Come on. Do they really need a dozen Razor Guards and ten physicians to get the job done here, not counting Evil Lincoln and Ethan? And adding onto that, must every last doctor carry a pair of massive syringes…and all just to subdue little old me?

  My palms slick over with sweat.

  Actually, that math seems about right. Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck. I am in deep trouble here.

  At that moment, something flickers on the right side of my peripheral vision. I swipe my hand across my brow, all the better to hide my sneaky peep down the opposite side of the hallway.

  Bingo.

  There, in the shadows, lurks Williamson. Evidently, the dude is back from his break.

  Thank Heavens.

  My thoughts spin through possible next steps. Demon patrol training flashes to the forefront of my mind. To save time in battle, thrax warriors learn different code words for attack scenarios. For example, a classic one that I’ve used with Lincoln is Assault Plan Delta. It involves turning his baculum fire sword into a big net made of white flame.

  I nod once to myself. This could work.

  Williamson is a trained thrax fighter; the Razor Guards aren’t. Also, I know for a fact that Ethan washed out of warrior training, so he won’t know the assault plan codes. And as for Evil Lincoln, I’m guessing that he’s some kind of lab experiment gone wild. Bottom line: I can call out the assault plan of my choice to Williamson. Hopefully, he’ll back me up.

  Question is, which plan do I call?

  The docs step closer. All them wear the long tunics or gowns of their various houses. Ethan and Evil Lincoln flank the jittery group on either side. It’s like they’re afraid the doctors will bolt at any second.

  Not an unreasonable fear, really. I’m a tough Arena warrior who’s about to be cornered. They know an ass kicking is coming.

  As the group moves closer, Ethan shoots me his “freckled bad kid” smile. Evil Lincoln arches his brows in a look that can only be called snide. The faces of the doctors all twitch with terror.

  Closing my eyes, I do my best to ignore them all.

  I need to pick the perfect fighting scenario and fast. At best, I’ll get one shot at calling out a plan to Williamson. Assuming he helps me.

  He’s got to help me.

  Besides, if my plan doesn’t work, I’ll become a pincushion for the doctor’s syringes. Or worse. Williamson won’t let that happen. Otherwise, why would he have been the only person to believe me? And he did sneak off on a sketchy break and is lurking behind a wall while scoping out my attackers.

  He’s definitely going to help me.

  Attack plans flip through my mind like pages in a book. There’s a whole category dedicated to being surrounded by enemies while one of your fellow thrax warriors is still free. Of these, there’s another subset that focuses on indoor situations. At last, the perfect option appears in my brain.

  Assault Plan Beta Epsilon.

  This particular scenario involves the non-surrounded warrior creating a diversion of the explosive variety. Most thrax fighters carry an array of charms on them for all sorts of occasions. I can only hope they have a few options for blowing up intruders who try to raid the royal chambers.

  I tap X’s shoulder. “Beta Epsilon.”

  I can’t see his face, but the double-take move is a universal one, even if you are covered in black bandages. “What did you say?”

  “I said, Beta—”

  An eardrum shattering kaboom rocks the hallway. Bits of rubble tumble from the ceiling. Massive chunks of stone slam into the floor. Smoke and dust fill the air. Voices cry out, mostly the doctors. My brows lift.

  Williamson did help me, and damn, he’s a fast worker.

  Someone grabs my hand in through the smoke. “Your Majesty, this way.”

  Even through I can’t see squat, I recognize that voice. It’s Williamson. I stumble along in whatever direction he’s dragging me. We dodge around Razor Guards and freaking-out physicians. Moans echo all around. A pang of worry tightens my insides. Whatever I think of the Razor Guards, they didn’t deserve to have the ceiling fall down on them.

  I run a few more paces down the smoky hallway before deciding: actually, the Razor Guards totally deserved to have that happen to them. Who restrains a pregnant lady so she can be sedated against her will? Plus there are only a dozen physicians around them. I’m sure they’ll all be fine.

  It’s impossible to see, so I sense Williamson pushing open a section of wall. I smile. Evil Lincoln only blocked the secret passages inside my chambers. Dumbass.

  Williamson and I step into the hidden passageway. The door-sized section of wall slams shut behind us. In the dim light, Williamson unclips his baculum from his sword belt. It’s a welcome sight. Baculum are two silver rods that can take any shape with angelfire. Only thrax from the House of Rixa can wield them.

  Oh yeah, and me.

  Lifting his baculum high, Williamson ignites the weapon into a torch blazing with white angelfire. Flickering light illuminates the passageway. It’s like others I’ve seen before: a cramped space that’s carved out of gray rock. Sometimes, the passages are also framed with wood, but that’s less common.

  Williamson scans me from head to toe. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, thank you for saving me.”

  “What happened to the rest of your thrax guard?”

  “The false King sent them away.”

  A light coat of dust has settled on Williamson’s hair. He rakes his hand over his scalp. A cascade of gray motes dances through the torchlight. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea your guard would be sent away.”

  “Did you know about the doctors?”

  Williamson straightens his stance. “We’d just heard about the sedation plan. But we wouldn’t allow it to happen.”

  “We? Because all the other guards left their posts pretty easily.”

  “You’re right. I wou
ldn’t allow it to happen.”

  “So you said you needed to step away.”

  Williamson nods. “And I waited.” His mouth thins to a determined line. “You can’t blame the other guards, though. None of them have interacted with you the way I have. They think the King is correct in finding you insane.”

  “Hey, I’m just thankful you stayed on my side. That was a great risk. I know you have a family. If the false King figured out that you helped me—”

  “My family knows the risks of my role here in the castle.” Williamson straightens his stance. “What can I do to help you?”

  “I need to go to the Lime Kilns.”

  Williamson shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Honestly, it’s better if it stays that way. Just find a way to sneak me to the Lime Kilns behind the castle. I’ll take it from there.”

  “As you command, Your Majesty.” Williamson turns and heads down the empty passage. “This way.”

  As I follow Williamson through the cramped space, raised voices echo in from the castle. Evidently, they are pulling in more Razor Guards and warriors. Yuck. To keep my focus, I remind myself of all the tight spots I’ve been in. On the Arena floor. With Lady Adair. While fighting Armageddon. I’ve been in tougher places and escaped. I simply have to do it again.

  And even though my internal pep talk helps, I know that although I’ve always made it in the past, the risks have never been higher.

  My husband. My child. Williamson. His family. Hell, if Ethan and Evil Lincoln take over Antrum, all the thrax could be at risk. And if the thrax aren’t able to protect humanity, what will happen to the mortal world?

  Memories appear in my mind. I picture Lincoln holding the arrowhead from Ethan back in the library. That was more than a weapon to steal away my husband. The memory slicing into my soul, opening up the question I’ve been avoiding.

  What does it really mean to be Queen of the thrax?