That little dude could be my igni.
Dad always said igni had a fractured existence outside the after-realms. Maybe on Earth it’s a different story. If that’s the case, then this is a meeting I want to have solo. I need to understand what I’m up against before I bring in Cissy and Zeke.
Time to encourage my friends to take a break.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I make a great show of yawning. “Wow, am I ever beat. Maybe it’s time for you two to leave for a while.”
Cissy wags her finger at me. “What’s really going on?”
A clicking noise sounds in the kitchen. “What was that?” asks Zeke.
It wasn’t a little glowing guy playing with my fridge. Nope.
I exhale another totally innocent sigh. “I just need a little break, guys. Why don’t you both go hang in your suite for a while?”
Zeke fiddles with the binocular knobs some more. “In a minute. I’m making progress here.”
Sadly, he’s been saying that for more than an hour. I’m not holding my breath.
I snap my fingers. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe you two could look for costumes for us? We’re going to need to hit the LaGuardia Touch the Tech Event. Ethan might be there with some of his thrax followers. We can’t show up with our tails hanging out.”
“The costume contest is for kids, Myla.” While she speaks, Cissy’s tail keeps up the corkscrew motion. That means she knows I’m lying again.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Tapping my chin, I consider my options. There’s still one way to get around Cissy. I just need to bring on the kryptonite to Cissy’s super-anti-Myla-powers.
And that would be Zeke.
Here’s the deal. When it comes to females, Zeke is mister smarmy and charming…except if the female in question is bawling her eyes out. In those situations, Zeke takes off so fast, you can almost see cartoon-style dust clouds behind him.
It’s time to turn on the waterworks.
I rest the back of my hand against my forehead. “Oh, I’m just so worried about Lincoln. It’s terrible!” I follow this up with a long “waaah” noise that is totally believable. “Also, I’m pretty sure I might puke soon.”
Zeke whips the binoculars off and looks directly as Cissy. “Babe, maybe we should give Myla some space.”
I force a dry heave. “Oh, that was close. I really think you both should go.” I follow this up with a sorry, girlfriend look to Cissy.
Her tail has not stopped moving. “I can see right through you, Myla.”
Zeke sets the binoculars on the tabletop. “Myla needs a break, kitten.”
I let out another wail; Zeke visibly cringes. This is working out great.
“We should leave now,” says Zeke. He pulls Cissy toward the door. She doesn’t move.
I throw up my arms. “I’m just so upset here. I’m going to cry so hard, snot strings will come out of my nose. How about a little privacy, eh?”
“Forget it,” snaps Cissy. “Something weird is going on here. Don’t think I don’t notice it.”
Another little clink sounds in the kitchen.
Damn.
Thankfully, Zeke slides up to Cissy’s side and gingerly wraps his arm about her shoulders. He even starts rubbing the sensitive part at the base of her neck. “Now, babe. We’ve all had a long day. Why don’t we take a break for only twenty minutes or so? You and I go for a walk. I bet when we get back, everyone will feel better.” He starts to guide Cissy toward the door and—YES—she allows him to guide her away. Sure, she glares at me over her shoulder the entire time, but the departure is imminent.
“Thanks so much, Zeke.” I give him a wobbly smile and I mean it.
“No prob, Myla. How much trouble can you cause in twenty minutes anyway?”
Cissy shakes her head. She knows exactly how much trouble I can get into in two minutes, let alone twenty. Still, she’s almost at the door. The girl waited since grade school for Zeke to notice her. All he has to do is crack out his “shoulder rub” routine, and she’s Jell-O.
At last, Cissy and Zeke exit the penthouse. Pressing my ear to the main door, I wait for the telltale sounds of their footsteps receding down the hall, followed by the ding of the elevator opening and closing.
That’s it.
They’re gone.
Finally.
I tiptoe into the kitchenette. “Hello? Is someone here?”
I check all the cabinets. I know I heard something.
Scratching my cheek, I head back to the living room, where I witness something I’d never imagined possible. Before me, there stands a small creature that looks like your classic bumper sticker of a bug-eyed alien.
Waist-high humanoid? Check.
Big head and massive eyes? Check again.
A body with a round belly, long arms, stubby legs, and spindly fingers. Oh, yeah.
It’s the classic “visitor from outer space” package. Except, while most aliens are green or gray, my new little friend glows like a humanoid lightbulb on the low setting.
“Greetings, Great Scala,” it says in a childlike voice.
My mind blanks. “Uh…hi.”
With every passing second, my heart sinks deeper and deeper until I’m sure it’s tumbled through all seventeen floors of this snazzy boutique hotel. “Are you my…” I have to force out the word. “Igni?”
“Yes, Great Scala.”
“Wow.” What I see before me shouldn’t be possible, but nevertheless it’s happened: my igni have somehow smooshed themselves into the form of a lightbulb-alien-man-child.
Coooooooool.
Something tells me that if I want to get Lincoln back, then this little friend will come in mighty handy. At last, things are looking up.
Chapter Eighteen
For a long moment, the little alien-looking dude and I stare at each other. He’s got an oval face, big bulbous eyes, no nose, and a tiny mouth. Right now, those big eyes are staring at me. I can’t get over it.
This is my igni in humanoid form.
Whoa.
Words start tumbling from my mouth, seemingly on their own. “So, what do I call you, exactly?”
“We are Ignationarona-leebahnawannah-polywollywangalla.”
I open my mouth, ready to try that name, and then snap my yap shut. We’ll never get around to finding Lincoln if I try saying that name all day long. I force a smile. “How about I call you Iggy?”
“Yes.” The little guy glows more brightly. “We like Iggy.”
I gesture across the little dude. “So, guys.” I know I have other things to ask my igni about, but they have a humanoid form here. And they’re not talking gibberish. It’s really hard to get past that. I mean, one of the whole basic facts about being the Great Scala is that my igni only appear to me as little lightning bolts of power. Plus, I’m also the only one who can see or hear them.
What the Hell?
I clear my throat and try to organize my thoughts. “Why are you here exactly?”
“Iggy come to Earth for time of mourning when Great Scala dies unexpectedly.”
“But I’m not dead.”
Iggy shrugs his little shoulders. “No one knows this. They still close the gates to the after-realms.” He waves one super-long finger from side to side. “But never for long. They must open the gates soon. Iggy bad for Earth.”
I wince. Not sure I want to know the answer to this, but I do feel like I have to ask. “And why is Iggy bad for the Earth?”
“Iggy make things move.”
“Like souls?”
“Iggy no move souls on Earth. That is what after-realms are for. No, Iggy move other things here. Make bigga boom.” When he says the word “boom,” Iggy lights up even brighter while his voice splinters into what sounds like a thousand people talking at once. I also can’t help but notice how the carpet under his wide bare feet has started smoldering. “Iggy make bigga boom at building.”
My mouth falls open. “You did set the Hunter
research building on fire.”
“Yes. Make bigga boom for Great Scala. Melt all the nasty guns too.” Iggy raises his palms. Small lightning bolts of power—what I traditionally think of as my igni—tumble from his hands. Before, I thought that was fire dripping from his palms. But now that I’m up close? It’s igni. Definitely igni.
“That’s how you looked when I saw you in the lobby. I thought it was fire, but you had little lightning bolts dropping from your palms.”
“Yes, that was Iggy.” He tilts his bulbous head. “You want Iggy to do again?”
I flash Iggy my palms. “No more bigga booms, Iggy.”
“As Great Scala wishes. No more bigga booms here.”
I can’t help but notice that he limited his exploding capabilities to “here.” “Where do you want to let loose more bigga booms, then?”
“Lagaga Wa-ardia where the great birds fly.”
My eyes widen. “Do you mean LaGuardia airport?”
“Yes. Lagaga Wa-ardia. Iggy go there. Iggy make bigga boom.”
“No bigga booms, Iggy. Not unless Great Scala says so, okay? Good Iggy.” For some reason, I’m talking to a supernatural being like he’s a puppy in training. “You got that?”
Iggy’s little mouth droops into a frown. “Great Scala very mean. Must save handsome consort.”
“Hey, I want save Lincoln.” My voice catches. “Just without, you know, random bigga booms.” Although, to be honest, I’m open to the concept as a last resort.
“Iggy try.”
“Thank you, Iggy.” I heave out a long breath. “And I agree we probably have to go to LaGuardia, but I need my friends along as well. And we also need a plan. I don’t know where Lincoln is.”
All of a sudden, the mirrors in the penthouse come to life. I see my Lincoln, trapped inside his glass coffin.
He’s screaming.
Molten-bright light churns under his skin. Alarm rolls through my nervous system. I’ve seen that happen once before. It was back at Purgatory High. Armageddon, the King of Hell, has visited us in what turned out to be preparation for his invasion of Purgatory. He’d touched one of our teachers and pulled out her soul, which was his favorite method of attack.
As she died, her skin looked just as Lincoln’s does now.
I race over to a nearby mirror and scan it carefully, desperate for any clue as to where Lincoln is being held. My heart thuds hard against my rib cage. Lincoln is still trapped in a dark room inside the glass coffin. Lightning arcs into him, just like I saw before with Williamson. This time, my view is much closer, though. It’s clear how red light churns under his skin, reminding me of magma.
They’re trying to pull out Lincoln’s soul.
I scratch at the image in the mirror. “Lincoln, where are you?” Tears stream down my face. “Give me something. Show me something. I have to find you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Iggy standing across the room. His body glows more brightly. “Great Scala sad. Iggy fix.”
Crash…crash…crash! One by one, every mirror in the room bursts outward in succession. On reflex, I crouch down in a protective move. Glass jingles as it hits the floor. Nothing falls on me, though. I risk a look at Iggy. He stares at me with his huge eyes. Every inch of his body glows.
“Great Scala got upset again. Iggy fixed it.”
I stalk over to him. “Iggy didn’t fix the mirrors. As terrible as it was, I needed to see Lincoln. I don’t know where he is, and that vision could have given me a clue.”
“No, Great Scala can’t be sad.”
I stagger a half step backward. “Lincoln was screaming something again.” I close my eyes and try to picture the words. “It was my name. And that wasn’t the first time this has happened. Whenever I see him in a mirror, I swear, he’s calling for me.” I rub my forehead, thinking through the implications. “What does that mean?”
“Iggy knows. That magic comes from your love for each other. Consort calls your name.”
My skin chills over with shock. “You mean when Lincoln calls out to me—that’s when I see him in the mirrors?”
“Yes, Great Scala and consort connected. When consort is in pain and calling for you, that’s when you see him.”
Lincoln’s been in pain. He’s calling for me and I’m not there. Hells, I don’t even know where he is.
My mind slips into battle mode. All my emotion fades into the background as I focus on the challenge of finding Lincoln. My gaze locks on Iggy. He may be able to help in ways that don’t involve destruction. “You make souls move in the after-realms. And here, you make things move, too?”
“Yes. Not as fun as bigga boom, though.” More lightning bolts drop from his hand. “Iggy good with bigga boom. And Iggy melt things with igni power, too. Like guns and bad men.”
“I don’t need any melting right now, thank you very much.” Rushing over to the table, I pick up the binoculars and ledger. “Here’s what I do need. If you can make things move, can you make these work for me?”
“Iggy can try.”
“Okay, this will be just like when we move souls.” I hold the binoculars and ledger in front of me. “I’ll tell you where to go, and you make it happen.”
“Yes, Great Scala.”
“Good.” I set the binoculars against my face. Like they did with Felton, clamps extend to hold the device to my head. I sit down at the kitchen table and spread out the ledger before me. “Iggy, make these things show me information about Lincoln.”
“As the Great Scala commands.”
With the binoculars on, I can’t see much. I do sense Iggy moving closer to me. Warmth spreads across my body as tiny lightning bolts drop from Iggy’s palms. Soon, the binoculars heat up as Iggy’s power moves through them. The gears begin to whir and—at last!—words appear on the ledger page before me. Each letter glows with a golden light.
I read the text out loud. “Test subject 962-A. Lincoln of Rixa. Subject shows extraordinary levels of angelic power mixed with human DNA. Best harvesting rounds we’ve had so far.”
The binoculars turn so hot they could burn my skin. On reflex, my tail whips up to hold them a safe distance away. I now have to squint to read the writing, but it’s possible. “Subject fights harvesting process. This is not acceptable. The last step in our plan is to obtain enough angelic soul power in order to—”
The words turn blurry as the binoculars start melting in my tail’s grip. “Iggy, can you use less heat?”
“Iggy try.”
A few more phrases appear on the bottom of the page. “LaGuardia…portals in unexpected places…lead to cloning tanks…harvesting tables…”
Those last two words echo in my mind: Harvesting tables. That has to be where Lincoln is. The news announced that Ethan would be at the Touch The Tech Event. If I know his Supreme Atrociousness, Ethan won’t want to be far from the number one source of soul power for his evil plans.
Whatever those evil plans may be.
But before I can read another word, the binoculars turn into a molten pile of goo on the tabletop. After that the ledger flashes with a burst of lightning as well. For a moment, the dark pages glow as brightly as Iggy’s skin before transforming into a pile of ash. My legs turn wobbly as I plunk down into a nearby Plexiglas chair. My limbs shake. Inside, I’m torn between pure joy at learning more about where Lincoln might be…and a heavy sense of despair at not having him rescued already.
Iggy taps my shoulder. “Did Iggy help?”
“Yes, thanks. You did a great job making the binoculars work.”
“The bad men want something from consort.”
“Yes, they’re trying to pull out his soul.” My voice breaks as my warrior-mode fades. When I saw Lincoln in the mirrors, he was in so much pain. “We have to stop them, Iggy.”
I look around the once-funky suite. All the mirrors are busted, and half the couch is now rubble thanks to my tail. Before me, a large section of the floor is convex and melted.
We definitely need to leav
e a big tip.
“You’re right, Iggy. I need to go to LaGuardia now.”
“Yes, where the planes fly.”
“The ledger says there are portal doors there that will lead to cloning tanks and the harvesting tables. I think that’s where we’ll find Lincoln.” I press my palms against my eyes and try to mentally regroup. “But before we can go, I need to find my friends.”
“Iggy like this plan.”
I nod, my throat tightening with emotion. Lincoln always said I was great at battle plans. And that’s what this is, a battle. “You’d better disappear before my friends get back. I’ll summon you again at LaGuardia.”
Iggy closes his eyes and scrunches up his face. “Uh-oh.”
I don’t like the sound of that at all. “What do you mean, uh-oh?”
“Great Scala remember time of mourning?”
“Sure. The gates of Heaven and Hell are closed. That’s how you ended up here.”
“Time of mourning is now over. Gates to after-realms now open. If Iggy goes away, he goes back to Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. No come back to Earth.”
“You can’t return and help me again?” The words come out with way more shock than I would have thought possible. After all, one of the few facts I thought I knew about my job as Great Scala was that igni couldn’t visit the Earth. Igni only focus on souls, and that means staying in the after-realms. I hadn’t expected that Iggy would ever show up. Now that he’s here, I can’t imagine him leaving.
“If Iggy go, Iggy can’t help Great Scala. Like Iggy said, time of mourning is over.”
“So they opened up the gates of Heaven and Hell again?” I know I’m repeating this statement over and over, but I’m having some serious issues with it. Somehow, I thought the gates would stay closed a lot longer than a day. After all, I’m a pretty good at being the Great Scala.
“Gates are open. If Iggy goes, Iggy no come back.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m having a hard time adjusting to all this. Plus, I want to eat a gallon of ice cream like it’s my job. “But it’s a basic fact of our relationship that I can summon you when I need to.”
“Iggy can stay. Iggy can help. Just no go.”
Angelbound THRAX Page 15
