Angelbound THRAX

by Christina Bauer

  That leaves two more Razor Guards and one Ethan to deal with. The pair of warriors unholsters their guns and starts shooting at the Manus, rapid fire.

  Clearly, these fighters have never been trained on how to confront Manus demons. Something like a gunshot only pisses them off.

  I’m liking these odds. In all the confusion, someone forgot to keep the gun at my back, and that’s a mistake I’m capitalizing on, big-time. So while the remaining guards shoot at the Manus, I rush over to another pillar-o’-demons.

  As I race along, I hear Ethan’s voice. “Stop, Myla. I will shoot you.”

  Brave words, considering he’s two aisles over and can’t possibly have a decent shot. Just to make things more complex, I spear the glass in my current aisle as well.

  More shattering sounds.

  New plumes of smoke.

  Fresh Manus demons leap into the battle, and boy, are they ticked off.

  Meanwhile, the first pair of guards is still shooting at the original Manus demon. That won’t end well.

  With the demons keeping Ethan and his forces busy, I race down a third aisle of Manus, smashing the cases and releasing all the badassness.

  “I can see you, Myla.” That’s Ethan’s voice, and it’s way too close. A gunshot sounds. The bullet whizzes past my shoulder, actually grazing the fabric of my Scala robes. Yes, I’ve changed the garment into battle armor for the occasion, but even so, the bullet signed the fabric.

  Not a good sign for the effectiveness of supernatural armor on the Earthly plane. I’m at risk, and so is the baby.

  I have to get out of here.

  My gaze lands on the round exit at the far end of the clone room. Last time I came to this lab, Iggy and I used that passageway to find the labs and Evil Lincoln. I’m guessing we probably passed my real husband somewhere along the way.

  I hightail it in that direction. More gunshots whiz by me, and a few more singe my skin. That can only mean one thing.

  Ethan is in pursuit.

  More Manus demons stomp around. Fresh Razor Guards pour into the massive room. Soon, the place is one huge demonic zoo, crammed with all manner of evil rushing around in a frenzy.

  I haul ass toward the exit door. Every muscle in my body strains with the effort. Ethan’s footsteps sound louder as he closes the distance between us. More gunshots sound. A bullet grazes my left ear and right thigh.

  Damn.

  I whip open the door, rush through, and spot the knob to close the access door, which I then twist with my tail. Like the eye of a camera, multiple concentric discs roll into place, sealing off the main clone room.

  The circular door closes right in Ethan’s face. Yes.

  Leaning my forehead against the closed door, I try to catch my breath. The panel before me shakes with the fury of Ethan’s screams. My tail and I bump fists. On reflex, I reach for Iggy’s hand. He isn’t there, of course. A pang of regret tightens my chest.

  How I wish I didn’t have to send him away.

  Still, I did escape Ethan, and that has to count for something. All I need to do now is find the lab where they are keeping the real Lincoln. I’m feeling pretty good about my chances for success when it happens.

  I hear the sound of a gun cocking behind me. There’s no mistaking that particular noise. Pausing, I raise my arms. Little by little, I turn around.

  The hallway’s crammed with a whole legion of Razor Guards.

  Oh damn.

  “Our glorious leader would like a word with you,” says one of the Razor Guards.

  “Sure thing.” The thud of my heartbeat grows so loud, I’m certain every guard can hear it.

  Soon Ethan breaks through the group of guards. He stands before all his troops, his round face pink with rage. The sleeve’s been torn off his gas-station attendant uniform. He bares his Chiclet teeth at me. “I lost three dozen Razor Guards in that clone chamber.”

  “Hey, it’s your own fault. Who clones demons?” I bob my brows. Sure, this situation has turned from delicious escape into one massive shit burger, but maybe I can still get something from this disaster.

  Like, you know, information.

  “Come on,” I plead. “Give me something here. What’s up with the demonic duplication farm?”

  Ethan narrows his piggish eyes. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

  Great. How did I end up with the only bad guy in the history of ever who won’t blab his master plan? A girl needs info if she’s going to escape.

  I hold my thumb and pointer finger an inch apart. “Can’t you tell me one ittle wittle thing? I’m just wondering how you got so good at cloning demons when you clearly suck at duplicating anything angelic, other than the one clone of my husband.” I lower my voice. “He’s got a droopy eye, by the way. You might want to look into that.”

  “You.” Ethan’s mismatched eyes gleam with malice. “Ruin everything.”

  “What can I say?” I shrug. “It’s a gift.”

  “Right.” Ethan’s so pissed off right now I swear that his entire body is vibrating with rage. It’s a good look on him, really. “Let me show you something.”

  “Show away.”

  Ethan and his three-dozen Razor Guards then march me through more artery-style hallways. All the while, a Razor Guard keeps a gun to my spine. At the same time, another four guards keep semiautomatic machine guns trained in my direction. I guess after the clone room incident, Ethan isn’t taking any chances on my making sudden movements again.

  This just keeps getting better and better.

  I’m force-marched into a snug black room that’s pod shaped and made of plastic, just like other chambers. One wall is a tinted window that overlooks the clone room below. Again, this spot reminds me of the Ghost Towers back home.

  Probably a control room of some kind.

  I go on tiptoe to peep through the main viewing window to the clone floor. Below us, the place is a total madhouse. All sorts of demons are clawing and crawling in a great pile. About a hundred Razor Guards are racing about, trying to subdue them.

  It isn’t going well for the guards.

  Ethan’s guys are still trying to shoot the Manus demons, which is a dumb move to start with, but infinitely worse to keep doing over and over, despite the fact that it only makes things worse.

  I gesture to the floor below. “Let me guess. You brought me here so I could share some battle advice.” I give Ethan a mock-curtsey. “Happy to oblige. You need to train your Razor Guards better on how to fight demons. Or at all, really.”

  Ethan’s face has turned a lovely shade that I like to think of as “rage-red.” “It’s a limitation of cloning, not training, you brainless little lust demon. And it’s a roadblock that I will soon eliminate.”

  My eyes narrow. Human cloning only duplicates the body. Based on what Ethan said, magical cloning must involve trying to replicate memories as well. Interesting.

  Ethan goes over to the wall to the right of the viewing window, holds up his binoculars, and twists a few dials on the viewing device. Instantly, a console appears on the wall.

  I nod once to myself. Definitely a control room.

  Ethan starts fiddling with the dials at the top of the wall. “Regular DNA doesn’t capture the memories and skills of the original.”

  “You’re looking to copy memories and skills too.”

  There’s a long pause before Ethan finally answers. “Yes.”

  For the record, I’m really happy that Ethan is finally sharing a little information, but I’m not too pleased about the content here. Because if he wants to record and duplicate someone’s battle skills, then Lincoln is the best thrax around to clone. I rest my hand against my belly.

  Except for maybe our child. With my battle skills and Lincoln’s strategic mind, Maxon might be an even finer warrior one day. Is that Ethan’s endgame? He said he wants to raise our Maxon. No doubt, he wants to brainwash my child to be the number one player on Team Ethan. It makes sense for him to want an army of super-powerful warriors as fol
lowers. Still, that doesn’t explain what Ethan wants with demons. That part of the plan still doesn’t make any sense.

  There isn’t time to ponder this mystery because Ethan is pounding on more buttons on the new wall console. “Damned system is still locked down,” grumbles Ethan.

  I can’t help but grin. The system is still locked down? That means Cissy and Zeke didn’t fix CHUCK yet. They must be stalling. Go, Cissy and Zeke.

  “Ah, here we go.” Ethan presses more buttons. “Functional again.”

  Or not. I sure hope my friends are okay.

  Ethan points to the glass wall. “Have a look.”

  I follow his gesture, scanning past the glass and into the space beyond. Directly below our viewing area, I notice a spotlight illuminate two large tanks that rest against the far wall. One is red while the other’s black. They remind me of the two canisters I first saw in the lab with Williamson, only much larger.

  As Ethan keeps pushing buttons, a safety light starts revolving above the red tank.

  Ethan grumbles as he keeps pushing buttons. Is it wishful thinking, or does it seem like the system isn’t working for him the way that it should? Could Cissy and Zeke still be fine and hacking?

  “Let the show begin,” announces Ethan. “And please know that this is all your doing.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What is, exactly?”

  “This.” Ethan pounds a final code into the wall. Across the clone room floor, the top of the red tank disappears, releasing a cloud of crimson haze. The smoke takes on the pattern of howling faces as it races around the room. I set my hand on my throat. Smoke taking the form of a face? That’s definitely magic.

  I step closer, trying for a better look at the features of the misty face. My body freezes with shock.

  It’s Armageddon, the King of Hell. There’s no mistaking that long face and blade-like nose.

  All of a sudden, it makes perfect sense how Ethan could duplicate demons so easily but not anyone angelic. The king of all demons was helping him. And Armageddon is forever making side deals and laying secret plans. Somehow, the King of Hell has gotten himself embedded into Ethan’s operation. I wonder what pack of lies Armageddon told Ethan to convince the thrax leader to clone demons. Like there aren’t enough of those already.

  Screams reverberate from the room below. I step closer to the viewing wall; the guards follow. I pause, pressing my palm against the panel of glass. The mist turns so thick, all I can see is a red haze.

  The high-pitched drone of an alarm sounds from the room below. Again, the system reminds me of the Ghost Towers back home. Once the mist reaches a certain saturation level, the auto processes kick in and literally clear the air.

  The hum of fans sounds as the room below begins to clear. Little by little, a terrible view comes into focus. Smashed glass pillars. Immobile demon bodies. Faces contorted in pain.

  Dead. They’re all dead.

  And they’re not the only ones, either. “You killed your own guards.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  I round on him. “You’re a thrax. There’s no honor in killing the defenseless.” Another piece of my Queenly role falls into place. “It’s even more awful when you’re murdering your own people. They rely on you, and—” I’m not sure what that reliance means yet, though. Well, beyond the obvious. I wag my finger at them. “And you can’t just go around killing them!”

  “Those Razor Guards just died for a good cause.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “And what’s that?”

  “Making a point to you, Myla Lewis.” He steps closer and grins his Chiclet smile. “Do not fuck with me again. If I do this to my own loyal people, what will I do to you?”

  A chill crawls over my skin. “You really believe that killing is worth it, just to impress me?”

  “Of course.” He nods to one of the guards behind me, and I feel not one but two guns against my spine. Ethan gestures toward the door. “Your husband awaits.”

  My stomach flip-flops. Part of me is thrilled by the idea of seeing Lincoln again. More of me feels terrified by what I’ll find. Once again, I reach out for Iggy’s hand without thinking. He’s been calming me for so long, and I’ve never missed our connection more than now.

  A soothing warmth spreads over my palm. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear, I can sense Iggy with me. The feeling is gone too quickly to be certain, though.

  Within seconds, the whole episode with Iggy vanishes from my mind as our little group makes its way down the labyrinth of passages to wherever-the-Hell they’re keeping my Lincoln. With every step, I try to soak in my surroundings, just as my father taught me. Releasing the demons in the clone room didn’t work, but something else will come up. It simply has to.

  I won’t accept anything less, not for Lincoln…

  And definitely not for our baby.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ethan and his guards force-march me through more artery-style hallways. As we walk along, I take care to look slump-shouldered and pathetic. Ethan is done blabbing plans—at least for now—so it gives me a chance to take stock of my situation.

  On the negative side, my Scala robes are useless against human guns, Iggy is gone, and Ethan’s a dick.

  On the positive side, at least my tail is still free. Plus, it’s hanging at an odd angle to look broken. It’s one of our best battle ruses.

  Long story short, I still have a shot here.

  Our small group pauses by a nondescript stretch of passageway. Once again, Ethan lifts his binoculars and points them toward a particular stretch of wall. Within seconds, a round portal opens. My heart leaps into my throat.

  This is it.

  I’m finally about to find out what’s happened to Lincoln.

  The world takes on a dreamlike quality as I step through the round portal and into another lab room. Like the ones back at Times Square, the space is medium-sized, pod-like, and made of white plastic. Again, I have that creepy sensation that I’m stepping inside an egg. Two lab tables sit in the middle of the room. Behind them, there stands another pair of tall metal pillar-style structures, one black and one red. Tubing snakes out from each and locks into the base of both tables. This is just like the lab I saw with Felton Weiner. Black puts the subject to sleep. Red kills them.

  My gaze locks onto the left-hand table? Every nerve in my body goes on alert.

  That’s Lincoln.

  I move close with halting steps. After the last catastrophe with Evil Lincoln, can this really be my guy?

  “Don’t move any closer,” warns Ethan.

  But this is my Lincoln! I step closer anyway.

  A chorus of clicks sound behind me as more guns cock and the guards prepare to shoot. Some small part of my mind knows I should worry, but I can’t focus on anything but the immobile form lying before me.

  My love.

  The other half of my heart.

  The father of our child.

  I stop by the lab table. One of those curved glass coffin-tops covers the surface. Under it, there’s Lincoln. His eyes are closed. The lines of his ribs and collarbones jut out from his body. Deep cuts and bruises cover his arms and chest. He still wears only the low-hanging jeans that he slipped on before reading the letter from Ethan.

  That was a few days and a million years ago.

  It takes everything in me not to step closer. Just a few more feet and I’d be able to touch the glass. “Lincoln? Is it you?”

  His eyes open a crack. “Myla.” His voice sounds hoarse and dry. “I knew you’d come.”

  “I’m here.” I clench and unclench my hands. My fingers itch to stroke his cheek.

  “Family reunion is over. Turn around.” That’s Ethan speaking behind me, which is both bad and good news.

  The bad news is that Ethan’s breath is fanning out across my neck.

  The good news is that I don’t feel a gun at my ribs anymore. I slowly shift to face Ethan, taking care to scan the room as I go. There are seven Razor Guar
ds here along with their Supreme Leader. I’m sure Ethan would have liked more guards in tow, but this isn’t that big of a space. All of them have reholstered their guns.

  They aren’t expecting a fight. That’s the best news of all.

  Ethan hitches his thumb. “Get on your table.”

  I shoot a quick glance at Lincoln. My guy gives me the barest shake of his head. I know what that means. Don’t get on the table. I totally agree.

  I fold my arms over my chest. “No.”

  Ethan chuckles. “I’m going to explain things to you once, nicely. After that, it will get very uncomfortable in here. Do you understand me?”

  “English is my first language, Ethan.”

  “You have one chance.” Ethan gestures toward Lincoln. “Your husband hasn’t been willing in giving up his soul. I don’t like that. I’ve tested hundreds of thrax; none have his unique angelic qualities. I even tried to clone him so I could drain those units, but cloning angelic material has proven trickier than demonic.”

  “Especially considering how your trick with demonic cloning is to ask the King of Hell for help.”

  “As I said before, I only rely on the best.” A smug grin winds across Ethan’s round face. “Now, if Lincoln willingly gives me his soul, then you can enjoy a comfortable life until the baby is born.”

  “And after the child is here?”

  “I have a rigorous training program in mind for him. He’ll be my heir and strongest supporter. And yes, I may need to drain your son at age eighteen—that’s when our systems work best—but I plan to have my angelic cloning program perfected by then. Rest assured, some version of your offspring will always be alive and well on Earth.”

  I can’t believe this guy. “And what about me?”

  “Once you’ve given birth, you’ll be drained as well. Willingly.”

  “And that’s your super-awesome offer? Lincoln dies now, and I live comfortably until you can take your baby away from me? Oh yeah, and then you’ll raise our kid to be a brainwashed nutjob, but hey, he’ll probably get cloned, so bonus! Am I missing anything?”

  Ethan’s mouth thins with determination. “Your family is the key to my plans. I need angelic soul power. Between the three of you, I’ll have enough to drive my realm forever.”