Angelbound THRAX

by Christina Bauer

  All the Armageddons tilt their heads as a thousand of them speak at once: “Hello, Myla Lewis.”

  Crash! The clones leap through their glass cases and race for Lincoln and me at full tilt.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

  Lincoln and I run full out for the far wall. I keep my gaze locked on the red canister. “That’s not too far from the exit. I can spear it with my tail.” And by spearing it, I’ll release a deadly gas, but I’m figuring I don’t need to add that part.

  A pair of Armageddon clones leaps for us. My tail bats the first away; Lincoln dodges the second, so it lands on the floor nearby. Taken together, those two attacks mean one thing.

  At this rate, there’s no way we’ll reach the red canister, let alone the exit door. We need another plan. My thoughts speed through everything I know about Ethan and his schemes.

  For some reason, Williamson’s final words echo through my mind.

  “This may help our king.”

  When Williamson spoke those words, he was holding a crushed-up arrowhead. I’d only thought about it as a keepsake, but now? This projectile could open a portal to who-cares-where, assuming Lincoln can activate one again. And if it is functioning, the arrowhead could take the Armageddons away, not my Lincoln.

  Thankfully, I still have that crushed-up arrowhead. I pull it out from its resting place under my Scala robes. “I have one of these.”

  Lincoln’s eyes glint with recognition. He opens his mouth to speak, but before a word leaves his lips, another pair of Armageddons lunges for us. My tail skewers one through the chest. Lincoln punches the other in the throat.

  This isn’t going well.

  “We can use that to create another transport portal,” says Lincoln. “All the arrowheads send captives to the same holding pen. They can be transferred back, but at least it will give us some time to escape.”

  “Assuming we can keep it from dragging us in, too.”

  At these words, more memories flicker through my mind. Williamson had smashed the arrowhead in his hand. A few minutes ago, Lincoln almost squashed one of the binoculars by mistake. Both of those things were made from Ethan’s black magic metal. Lincoln had said that being in the glass coffins may have changed the way he interacts with the stuff.

  “Lincoln, this floor is made from that black metal stuff.”

  A small smile rounds Lincoln’s mouth. “Right. Toss the arrowhead as far away as you can.”

  “Will it work if I do it?” I’d been thinking Lincoln was the easy bet.

  “Anyone with angelic power can activate it. Ethan does that for his guards.” Just focus on it opening the portal as you throw it. The magic will do the rest.” Lincoln scans the floor. “While you do that, I’ll make sure we don’t get sucked in.”

  “Got it.”

  For the record, a major benefit of having done so many demon patrols with Lincoln is we rarely give super-long speeches on battle plans. Just a few sentences, and Lincoln and I know exactly what to do. In this case, I know exactly how to chuck this arrowhead. I grip the item more tightly in my palm.

  One portal to who-cares-where, coming right up.

  I toss the arrowhead over my shoulder. My tail catches it and then flings the projectile toward the south wall, snapping like a whip. The arrowhead sails over the demons’ heads. A moment later, it lodges in one of the empty cloning pods. For a moment, nothing happens.

  Crud.

  Suddenly, a wall of black flame erupts from the other side of the chamber. I let out a whoop of joy. The dark fire rolls across the room, heating everything but burning nothing.

  The black magic of the arrowhead is working.

  Only this time, it’s to our benefit.

  The Armageddons stop their pursuit to screech and howl. The flames aren’t burning them, so I guess the yelling is just on principle. Once the fire dies down, I can see that one of the oval cloning pods is now nothing but an empty hole in the far wall. Just like last time, the world seems to tilt. The far wall becomes the floor. Everything begins to tumbles into the new vortex on the center of that “floor.”

  And by everything, I mean a lot of broken glass and Armageddons.

  My tail spikes through the floor, holding me in place. Meanwhile, Lincoln rams his fists through the floor. Like the binoculars, the metal crumbles for him easily. A second later, Lincoln has a firm set of handholds. Gravity and wind start pulling us toward the hole in the opposite wall. We’ve only a few hundred yards to go before we reach the exit door.

  The howl of wind quickly turns deafening. I can barely hear Lincoln over the din. “Grab on to me!”

  I must admit, I like this plan.

  My tail acts like a hinge, arcing me over so I can latch onto Lincoln’s back. I loop my arms around his shoulders and my legs about his hips. My tail snakes around his waist as well. Lincoln’s back quivers under my torso. My guy has been locked up and tortured for days. Is he really strong enough to drag us out of here?

  The wind whips faster around us. My long Razor Guard coat snaps in the quickening gale. With a mighty cry, Lincoln lifts his right arm and jams it into the floor, only this time, the hole is a little closer to the door. Lincoln is dragging us across the floor. Love it.

  “Keep going,” I cry. “You’re doing great.”

  Crunch…Lincoln tears another hole in the floor and pulls us nearer to the door. After that, his rhythm grows quicker. The cries of the Armageddons sound below us as more tumble into the new vortex on the far wall. Lights begin flashing in all corners of the room. A woman’s voice sounds over hidden loudspeakers.

  “CHUCK master system alert. CHUCK master system alert.”

  I frown. That voice sounded like… But it couldn’t be…

  Was that Cissy?

  The last time I saw my bestie and Zeke, they were being dragged off to undo whatever Cissy did to CHUCK, Ethan’s master computer system. Later on, Ethan complained that he still couldn’t get access. Heck, Ethan even acted like the interface had changed. But now Cissy could be doing announcements for CHUCK?

  What the WHAT?

  Lincoln keeps pounding his hands into the metal flooring. Turns out, the metal floor is way heavier and thicker than the binoculars. It’s positively shredding Lincoln’s skin. My guy’s knuckles turn raw as red meat. Blood trickles down his arms.

  But we’re almost at the exit.

  At last, Lincoln grips the metal beside the round door. Raising his fist, he punches the button to open the exit. Concentric circles swipe over each other as the door opens, reminding me of the shutter on an old-fashioned camera. Lincoln heaves us inside. I regain my footing and stand up straight again. The effect of the vortex is muted here. It feels good to have gravity back where it belongs. I’m about to breath a sigh of relief when one of the Armageddons leaps toward us through the opened doorway. Damned thing was using Lincoln’s old handholds to trail us.

  My tail does the honors, smacking the button and closing the portal. Based on what Lincoln heard from the guards, this door and passageway definitely lead to LaGuardia. The Armageddon who was leaping toward us gets trapped as the concentric circles closed up again. The demon gets sliced in two. Ick.

  I make my tail tear out the big red button and a ton of wires along with it. No one else is getting through that door.

  “This way,” says Lincoln. He gestures toward another artery-style hallway. Unlike the main cloning room, this thing is made from black plastic.

  “You sure?”

  “This is the path. A few guards and then we’re clear.”

  Ignoring the half-of-an-Armageddon, we run into the new passage. For the record, there are a ton of Razor Guards here. At least ten block our escape.

  Damn.

  I’ve gotten this far without breaking my “no fighting because of the baby” rule. Do I really have to do this now?

  As it turns out, I don’t.

  Lincoln has kept two slabs of the black metal from the floor of the cloning room. He’s turned them into makeshift bo
xing gloves, which he now uses to beat the pulp out of all ten guards in less than two minutes.

  You have to appreciate the beautiful things in life. Watching Lincoln in a long black jacket pulverize bad guys is definitely one of those beautiful things. All too soon, the battle is over. I almost wish there were more Razor Guards to fight.

  “This way,” calls Lincoln.

  We race down another artery-style hallway. Then another. Oh, and about sixteen more after that. Each time, I rip out the mechanism so no one can follow us. We’re at about the twentieth hallway when Lincoln stops. “Let’s take a breather. Are you all right?”

  “You’re here. I’m perfect.”

  Lincoln pulls me into his arms. “This feels so good.” He nuzzles into my neck. “The whole time they were trying to pull out my soul, all I could think about was you and the baby. I knew you’d find me.” He leans back and rests his forehead against mine. “And you did. Both of you.”

  “I had some help.” My voice cracks as I think of Iggy again. More warmth spreads across my palm, right where we used to hold hands. I close my eyes and send out a message with my mind.

  “Are you trying to contact me, Iggy?”

  A thudding sounds on the other side of the door. I’m pretty sure I hear the rumble of Razor Guard voices accented by Armageddon’s high-pitched laugher. Lincoln said the Armageddons could get transported back here from the holding pen. Looks like they didn’t waste any time returning.

  Uh-oh.

  Lincoln and I share a knowing glance.

  “Break time is over,” I say.

  “Agreed.”

  Hand in hand, we race down the corridor before us. I can only hope that at the end of this tunnel, I’ll find LaGuardia and freedom.

  Somehow, I doubt it’s going to be as easy as that, though.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We follow the passageways for what seems like hours, although I’m sure it’s only a few minutes. At last, we reach a dead-end wall with a round door set into the middle. It’s not a huge thing as doors go, and something about it reminds me of the Touch The Tech event. I run my fingertips over the arched metal surface. That’s when it hits me.

  “A tank.” I grip the round handle. “This must lead to a tank.”

  Lincoln tilts his head. “What makes you say that? Aren’t tank doors generally on the top of the vehicle?”

  “You saw how Ethan’s magic changed gravity before. Plus, the last portal I used was a port-a-potty at LaGuardia. The door always looked like a port-a-potty, even from this side.” I pat the round handle. “This door looks like it leads to a tank.”

  “Touch The Tech.” Lincoln nods slowly. “My guards were talking about it.”

  “For the record, you have really blabby guards.”

  Lincoln gives me a sly smile. “Every last one is a clone of Ethan, and that man was always a motor mouth.”

  “Truth.”

  Lincoln rubs his chin. “Do you remember where the tanks were?”

  “Sure. The far right runway.” While we’d been running along, Lincoln had quizzed me on everything I could remember about the layout of LaGuardia.

  The intercom system buzzes to life again. Cissy’s voice sounds once more. “All personnel, prepare for attack. All personnel, prepare for attack.”

  “There.” I point to the nearest speaker. “Does that sound like Cissy or what?” Lincoln had been a little distracted last time, so he didn’t really notice the voice in the Armageddon clone room.

  “It does sound like her.” Lincoln rubs his chin. “You said they took her and Zeke to the main computer system?”

  “Yes, there was an access point to the master system set up at one of the tents at LaGuardia.”

  The voice sounds again. “Leave me alone. No!”

  My skin freezes over with shock. “Okay, that was definitely Cissy and it sounds like she’s in trouble.”

  “We need to get out of here,” says Lincoln.

  “Right.” At this point, I’m wearing a green high-collared shirt, jodhpurs, and tall black boots. I have bandages jammed in my pocket, just in case I need to hide my face again. It feels creepy to walk around with my face bandaged up, even if it is a better disguise. Lincoln’s in full Razor Guard gear. He’d lost his hat in the vortex, but found a replacement along the journey here.

  Lincoln grips the round handle and starts turning it clockwise. “I’ll go in first. Ethan could have one of his Razor Guards in the tank.”

  “Agreed.” Before, I noticed a lot of guards outside the tanks and such, but no one was in there, waiting to start things up. That said, it’s better to be cautious.

  Lincoln finishes spinning the handle and pulls up on the small round door. It opens a crack. A stream of stale air whooshes into the hallway. Lincoln pauses, listening. I’ve no doubt that if anyone is in there, he can hear their breathing or whatever.

  “It’s clear,” says Lincoln.

  Stepping up, I peer into the opened portal and frown. Sure enough, the portal is in the wall, but it looks like we’re looking down into the tank.

  We climb inside. Lincoln takes the driver’s seat. A series of clicks sound. I almost jump out of my skin.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “I engaged the locking mechanism on the portal. This way, we won’t have any unwanted visitors.”

  “Got it.”

  I decide to slip into the gunner’s station. It’s comfy as chairs go and has a large console with tons of buttons and a monitor. Not that I know how to use any of them. Lincoln peers through this periscope thing. The one place thrax go high-tech is one demon patrol. I know for a fact that Lincoln and his warriors use a similar periscope thingy to scope out the enemy while staying under cover. It’s not usually attached to a tank, though. Still, I’ll take whatever intel Lincoln can get. “Our path is clear. There are no guards around.”

  “That’s odd.” I frown. “All the vehicles had guards around them before.” I keep hearing Cissy’s “no” echoing through my mind. What is happening?

  A small speaker inside the tank comes to life with a mechanical hiss. This time, a man’s voice sounds inside the tank. “All units with maintenance issues, report to runway five. All units with maintenance issues, report to runway five. H-E Launch starts in two minutes. Repeat, H-E Launch starts in two minutes.”

  Lincoln’s gaze stays locked on the periscope. “Some of the other tanks are driving away.” He angles his head from side to side. “A few of the Humvees and vans are as well. This is our chance, Myla. We can escape. There’s a Pulpitum in one of the closed-up hangars.”

  I hug my elbows. Isn’t this what I wanted? Lincoln and I were going to escape LaGuardia, get back to Antrum, regroup, and return in force. At that point, we’d take down Ethan and his goons, easy-peasy. We could also be far more help to Cissy and Zeke if we had backup.

  So why does escaping feel like the wrong move here?

  The answer appears to me in a flash: the H-E Launch. It’s what all of this has been about. It’s why Lincoln was captured in the first place. This is the crux of Ethan’s plans to take over both good and evil on Earth.

  And it’s starting in two minutes.

  I stiffen my spine. “I don’t want to leave, Lincoln.”

  He cranes his head to look at me. “What?”

  “I want to stay for this H-E Launch.”

  “Myla. The baby.”

  I rub my hand over my stomach. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About what it means to be a wife and mother. I haven’t really realized what it meant to be a Queen though. At first, I thought it was all about doing different projects.”

  “Such as improving our oxygen systems. That’s important work.”

  “I know, but it’s not leading. What Ethan’s doing? It’s about the very definition of what it means to be thrax. He doesn’t have all this tech out here for show. These are weapons of death and war. That’s what he wants to bring to the human world. I can’t leave the mortal world to that.
”

  Lincoln stares at my belly as well. “This is a big decision, Myla.”

  I absently trace the image of an arrowhead on my stomach. The first time I saw one of Ethan’s arrowheads, it was in the library of our honeymoon palace. The thing looked completely foreign then. Who sends arrowheads to their King? It was an odd symbol from one of our subjects. I felt completely separated from my role as Queen of the thrax.

  Then Williamson handed me the crumpled-up arrowhead that he’d stolen while helping me escape from Antrum. At that point, the arrowhead came to mean something else entirely. Williamson had offered me that arrowhead because he wanted to help Lincoln and me. And he did help us. Lincoln and I would never have gotten past all those Armageddons without the knowledge that Williamson brought us. Watching Williamson die on that laboratory table, I felt a deep sense of responsibility settle into my bones. I had to save Williamson and others from a similar fate at the hands of Ethan.

  “This is about more than stopping Ethan,” I say slowly.

  Lincoln’s gaze turns intense. “How so?”

  “This baby is my child. But he’s also my subject. I want to bring him into a world where being thrax is something to be proud of. Ethan is going to bring death and destruction to the human world, I know it. And it will forever stain what it means to be a thrax. That kind of dark future is something I’m willing to fight against. I believe our son would want that too.”

  There’s something even bigger at stake. I open my mouth, trying to find the right words. None appear. I huff out a frustrated breath.

  “Give yourself time, Myla. I’m listening.”

  I give Lincoln a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

  For a moment, my finger keeps retracing the image of the arrowhead on my belly. That’s where the future lies, and in more ways than one. My tail slips over my stomach, placing my real arrowhead end onto the outline that I’d drawn. With that, I know exactly what I have to do.

  “Here’s the thing, Lincoln. I see a thrax future where we adhere to traditions, but we also open ourselves up to being more understanding of other peoples and cultures. Our baby will be more than thrax. Our people need to open their eyes to other cultures as well.” I roll my eyes. “I know it sounds naive and simplistic.”