Angelbound THRAX

by Christina Bauer

  If Lincoln is worried about the “bigga boom” comment, he doesn’t show it. He keeps our hands firmly clasped together. “You’re doing so well. Both of you. Finish it off.”

  In my mind, I can sense as my igni enter every engine. I redouble my focus, making the power do something I’ve never seen happen before. In the past, the igni have made things melt or explode. Now, I need them to make them fly. Energy seeps from my soul as I command the planes and copters to hover in space. A thousand circuits and dials flash through my consciousness. Fuel pipes and cloudscapes. It’s too much and not enough.

  I have to get these planes away from the humans.

  “Iggy bigga boom?”

  “Not yet. We need to take the planes and copters far away from the humans, Iggy. We’re going to take all Ethan’s flying machines high into the sky, Iggy. Can you help me do that?”

  “Yes, Great Scala.”

  Sweat drips down my cheeks as I double-down my focus once more. Iggy’s hand shakes in mine. Together, Iggy and I share our consciousness; we direct the small bits of supernatural power. One by one, all the pieces of Hunter technology rise up into the sky, higher and higher. Soon, they are nothing but distant specks in the night sky. In my deepest soul, I know they are far enough away not to cause any more danger.

  “Now, Iggy.” I say in a low voice. “Bigga boom.”

  “Yes!” Iggy laughs as the great explosion lights up the night sky. Distant rumbles shake the very air. The humans start to scream again. They don’t know that the threat was erased. I exhale and let go of Iggy’s hand.

  Lincoln kisses my forehead. “Great work.”

  “All three of us did it.” My limbs feel like Jell-O. “Although now that it’s over, I could use a nap.” I blink hard. “Oh wait. I know the Razor Guards died when Ethan died, but what do we do about the bodies? Especially, you know, the four we just killed.”

  “They’re gone,” says Lincoln.

  I rise on shaky legs and scan the other side of the tent. There are no more bodies, only empty Nazi uniforms. I glance over to Ethan. He’s gone, too. I slump into Lincoln. “What happened?” My guy knows a lot more about black magic than I do.

  “It’s part of the magic. The price that must be paid.” Lincoln’s mouth thins. “I’m sure his soul should go to Armageddon, but with this much black magic, I think it will be as if he never existed at all.”

  “That’s fine.” As much as I hate Ethan, I’d never wish anyone to be kept under Armageddon’s tender mercies. In fact, it’s a huge part of my job as the Great Scala to keep every soul I can away from the King of Hell.

  Iggy yanks on my robes. “Great Scala see that? Bigga boom! Bigga boom! Scala and Iggy control it all together.”

  My knees turn watery beneath me. Before I know it, Lincoln has scooped me into his arms. “We need to get you home.” He strides out of the tent and onto the tarmac. The place is almost deserted. Say what you want about humans, but they do know how to run.

  I try to keep my eyes open. It isn’t easy. “How far away did you say that Pulpitum was?”

  “Not far. I’ve got you.”

  I try my best to stay awake, but my eyes drift shut on their own. Within seconds, everything fades into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I don’t know how long I’m in the darkness, but the next thing I know, I hear Lincoln’s voice through my mental haze.

  “Myla, wake up.”

  My eyes flutter open. “Yes?”

  “We’ve reached the Pulpitum that will take us to Antrum. It’s safer if you’re awake for the transfer process.”

  I blink hard, trying to force my brain to focus. A jumble of images flashes through my mind. “There was a battle…”

  “Yes,” Lincoln says in a soothing voice. “You and Iggy teamed up to defeat Ethan’s army. I’m so proud. But now you need to be awake for the transfer back to Antrum. These platforms can be very unstable. It’s better if you’re alert, all right?”

  I widen my eyes and look around. I know we’re in a Pulpitum. This one looks like an empty airplane hangar. A few broken light fixtures shine far overhead. Most of the space is cast in shadows, but I can see a small round disc sits on the floor. Lincoln stands on the center of this circle. I’m still in his arms.

  Iggy just outside the metal disc. His overly large eyes are lined with tears. “Great Scala has to go. Iggy goes too.”

  “Right. We’ll be together soon.”

  “Iggy won’t be like this again.” The little guy gestures across his humanoid form. “Hard for Iggy to talk with so many voices. Was very hard to tell father of Great Scala to close down gates.”

  “Did you use double-screech?” I ask.

  “More like triple.”

  “Ouch.” Note to self: get Dad a nice thank-you gift.

  “Iggy likes talking to Great Scala this way.”

  “I like chatting with you too, Iggy.”

  I know what my mini supernatural dude means. When he’s in his igni form, Iggy is a million little voices all trying to talk at once. Normally, I have a hard time understanding him.

  “Great Scala no more understand Iggy.”

  “Hey, I always get what you mean in the end.” I kiss Lincoln’s cheek. “Set me down, please.”

  “Of course.”

  Lincoln gingerly places me on my feet, and I quickly crumple onto my knees. It’s more because my legs are still watery than anything else, but it’s also easier to look at Iggy this way. I open my arms to him. “Come here.”

  Iggy rushes into my embrace. Lincoln wraps his arm around Iggy as well. When I speak again, my voice cracks with emotion. “You’ll always be my little one, too. You know that, right?”

  “Iggy knows.” He sniffles into my shoulder.

  “And one day, you’ll be important to Maxon as well. You’re a part of our lives, whatever form you take. Do you believe me?”

  Iggy nods and steps back. “Iggy sees Great Scala again soon.”

  “That’s right.” I force a smile. “Until then, Iggy.”

  His little body flares more brightly for a moment. After that, Iggy disappears entirely. I feel the emptiness down to my soul.

  Lincoln kisses my forehead. “Are you ready now?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Lincoln scoops me into his arms again. I wiggle a little bit. “You don’t need to carry me.”

  He leans in to whisper in my ear. “But I like it.”

  I grin. “Who am I to refuse you?”

  Lincoln nuzzles my neck. For a moment, we’re all things snuggly and safe. After that, he scans the darkness and raises his voice. “I am King Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, activating Pulpitum transfer station XXV.”

  A laser beam brightens from the ceiling, creating a grid of light across both Lincoln and me. A woman’s voice echoes through the small closet. “How can this be King Lincoln? You’re here in Antrum. I can’t—”

  “Imperio parendum regis atque.”

  “That’s a mouthful,” I mumble. It’s also one of those thrax pass phrases. Once uttered, the chick in the transfer station has to do whatever the speaker says.

  “Pass phrase acknowledged,” says the woman. “Where should I transfer you?”

  “Take us to the Arx Hall Pulpitum on my mark,” says Lincoln. “Three…two…one…mark.”

  The Pulpitum lurches into the earth. Lincoln still cradles me in his arms; I lean into his embrace. My heart soars with the triumph of the moment. A single realization moves through my soul.

  I have my husband once again, and now, we’re going home.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lincoln and I hold on to each other as the Pulpitum platform hurtles through the ground. Veins of magma, glittering minerals, layers of stone… All these images of Earth fly past us as we’re magically transported deeper to Antrum.

  With a lurch, the round metal platform comes to a halt. The visions of the inside of the Earth are replaced by the sight of Arx Hall, our underground ca
stle in the thrax homeland. The Arx Hall Pulpitum is basically a round metal platform that sits at the back of a dead-end hallway. Like most things in Arx Hall, this corridor is filled with silver tapestries that hang on matching walls. Even the floors are metallic white tile. Everything looks as it should, except for one thing.

  There’s no one here.

  Normally, at least Lincoln’s parents show up to greet us. His mother Octavia probably knew we were en route the moment we set foot into the LaGuardia Pulpitum.

  With hesitant steps, I walk off the platform and into the hallway. Still, no one shows up. “So, this is weird.”

  Lincoln’s eyes narrow. “Quite.”

  “I mean, not that I think I’m so awesome or anything, but come on. I can move everyone’s souls to Heaven and Hell. Most importantly?” I point to my stomach. “How about a little love for Mommy?”

  Lincoln shoots me a wry look. “They’re coming. Give it five, four, three…two…one…”

  The door on the opposite end of the hallway whips open. Through it steps Octavia, Connor, and a ton of Rixa guards.

  I shake my head. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” asks Lincoln. But based on the gleam in his eyes, the guy knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “Know when people are about to show up in Arx Hall?”

  He shrugs. “Years of practice.”

  I point at his nose. “You’re teaching me that trick. Octavia sneaks up on me way too often.”

  Lincoln chuckles. “She does do that, doesn’t she?”

  It’s such a normal moment, I could cry. Octavia is descending on us the moment we enter Arx Hall, just like she always does. Connor is begrudgingly coming along for the ride, same as usual. They have a few more warriors along than usual, but these folks are wearing the insignia of Lincoln’s personal guard. No doubt, everyone is here to exclaim how glad they are that we’ve returned safely. And if I’m being honest with myself, I want a little love for Myla, too. I mean, everyone said that I was crazy to go after my Lincoln. And here I am. Totally right.

  Not that I’m gloating or anything. I’m becoming way too mature for that.

  Lincoln pulls me against his side and whispers in my ear, “Never get too mature, Myla.”

  My brows lift. “What? How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Your face squishes up when you’re telling yourself to act too grown up. I like the life inside you.” He places his hand gently on my stomach. “All of it.”

  I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his nose. “For you, I’ll always stay a semi-impetuous kook.”

  He gives me one of those smiles that melts my kneecaps. “Perfect.”

  It takes some effort, but I force myself to turn away from Lincoln and focus on the group marching toward us. Huh. They don’t look happy. Lincoln must be sensing the same thing, because his body tenses beside mine. After that, he does something I’ve never seen him do before.

  Lincoln steps forward and positions me behind him.

  It’s a protective move, and normally, I’m not one who needs protecting. But in this case? I trust his judgment. If Lincoln thinks there is danger to me and the baby, then I’ll hang back.

  I won’t promise to stay back forever, though. After all, I just vowed to remain a semi-impetuous kook.

  Connor and Octavia pause about ten yards before us. Connor looks red-faced and flustered in his medieval outfit of velvet tunic and leather pants. Octavia appears spotless in her long black gown. She eyes us carefully from head to toe.

  Oops.

  All of a sudden, I become very conscious of the fact that both Lincoln and I are still wearing Razor Guard uniforms. Not good.

  Lincoln scans his parents just as carefully. There’s no question where my guy got his strategic sense. “Mother,” he says slowly. “Father. I take it you’re not pleased to see us.”

  Octavia opens her mouth to speak, but someone else butts into the conversation first.

  Evil Lincoln.

  Man, do I ever hate that guy.

  The creep busts through the group of Rixa guards and positions himself right in front of Octavia. My brows lift. No one upstages the Queen Emeritus.

  This ought to be good.

  Evil Lincoln certainly looks the part of King. He’s got on the Rixa tunic, silver crown, and leather pants thing going on. It’s just…the guy screams conman to me. Sure, Connor is an easy mark. Still, how can Octavia not see that?

  Evil Lincoln points right at the real deal. “There they are, just as I said. Clones. You’ve all heard what happened on the Earth’s surface. Ethan and his Hunter Enterprises were cloning demons. Imagine that! Demons! And now, it seems they have cloned thrax as well.” Evil Lincoln sighs dramatically. “Thank Heavens that I got here first to explain everything to you. They both must be executed immediately.”

  My guy raises his hand. “Sermo mihi est lex.”

  I’ve heard Lincoln say this before. It’s one of the many codes Lincoln has with his Rixa guards. One of the warriors tosses a pair of baculum rods at my Lincoln, who in turn catches one in each hand. These look like two small metal sticks, and sure, that’s what they appear to be. However, once baculum rods are in the hands of my guy? They become totally lethal.

  This is getting good.

  Lincoln moves both rods into his right hand and ignites them as a sword made of white angelfire. When he speaks, my husband’s voice is low and growly. “You are the impostor.”

  Evil Lincoln pales. “How can you say this?” he rounds on Connor. “Dad, you must protect me from this liar.”

  Connor runs his hand through his shoulder-length white hair. I have to hand it to Lincoln’s father, the guy knows who really runs the show. Connor turns to Octavia. “What do you say, my love?”

  Octavia purses her lips. “My son never asks his father to fight his battles.”

  I raise my fist. “True that.” If anything, my husband is forever covering Connor’s ass.

  A small smile crosses Octavia’s mouth. “It’s good to have you back, son. I was starting to worry that you’d somehow had a breakdown and turned into a nincompoop.” She shoots an angry glare at Evil Lincoln. “Offense intended.”

  Evil Lincoln throws up his hands. “How can this be happening? They are dressed as Ethan’s personal guard. Why isn’t anyone killing them?”

  Lincoln turns to me. “I know I promised you the next kill, but…”

  I wave him off. “You can have this one. I totally get it.” If there were an Evil Myla running around, I’d want dibs on offing her. Fair is fair, after all.

  My Lincoln rounds on his evil clone. “I am King Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus. You participated in my kidnapping. You threatened my family. I hereby sentence you to death.”

  Evil Lincoln cowers on the ground, curling his arms over his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid clone. Ethan made me do it.”

  Lincoln raises his sword over his head, ready to strike. But I know my guy. My husband would never kill someone who wasn’t attacking.

  A long pause follows while Evil Lincoln whimpers. At length, my guy turns to me. “Looks like this one is your call after all. What do you say we do with him? He’s not attacking.”

  “I’ll never attack. I don’t even know how to fight.”

  I nod. “We got that, EL.”

  “EL?” asks my guy.

  “Evil Lincoln. It’s what I’ve been calling him for ages. I just decided to shorten it since it looks like he’s hanging around for a while.

  “EL.” My guy nods slowly. “It works.”

  EL keeps cowering in a ball on the floor. In fact, he shakes so much that he topples over onto his side, still in a fetal position. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what we should do with the guy.

  That’s when the perfect solution presents itself.

  I snap my fingers. “I have it.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” says EL.

  “We heard you the first two times,” I say. “Here’s what I’m th
inking. It’s going to be a real pain, cleaning up the mess that Ethan left on the Earth’s surface. We’ll have a main team that erases memories and all that good stuff. But someone needs to find every last person who saw what happened at LaGuardia and make sure the memory charms stick. It’s boring, time-consuming, and—”

  EL looks up through his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

  “No, you won’t,” I say. “You’ll give us lip service and then run off and hide. That’s why I say his punishment is a compulsion charm to get the job done.”

  EL sits up straight. “Compulsion charm to do work?”

  My Lincoln lowers his sword. “I like it. He should help clean up his own messes.”

  I raise my hand. “And the Earls should help him. No sending flunkies to do the dirty work, either. They need to realize what it’s like doing the heavy lifting.” Then, they may not be so jazzed to send other warriors into harm’s way.

  “But checking millions of New Yorkers,” whines EL. “That could take years.”

  “Good point,” I say. “For the Earls. After all, those guys do have houses to run. A few months of dirty work ought to be enough to teach them all a good lesson. But in your case? Not so much. Years sounds about right.”

  “So be it.” My guy looms over the cowering EL. “You are hereby sentenced to clean up you own messes for the next hundred years or so, assuming you should live that long.” I rub my palms together. “And I know just the guy to cast the compulsion as well. Your old friend Lucas, the Earl of Striga.”

  EL pales. “He wouldn’t.”

  Lincoln grins. “Want to bet?”

  I motion to the guards. “Take the impostor here to the Earl of Striga. Tell him to cast a truth and consequences spell. He’ll know what to do from there.”

  Two guards step forward and frog-march EL away. Lincoln’s clone whines the whole time, which is pretty satisfying. Once EL is gone, I turn to my guy. “Wow. One didn’t go on the attack. I feel like I should buy a lottery ticket or something.”

  Before my Lincoln can reply, Octavia rushes forward and loops Lincoln into a huge hug. “My boy, I was so worried. It was obvious that character was a clone, but what if there were more clones of you? The moment you said my name, I knew. You’re back.”