Lincoln: Angelbound Book 2 with bonus novella, Duty Bound

by Bauer, Christina;

  “I’d rather have another crossbow bolt shot through my leg.”

  “Well said, my son.” She turns and marches off through the mud as well.

  Soon, I’m alone on the empty practice ground. I should feel happy. After all, all my plans have worked. I saved lives tonight. Months of reading and preparation have paid off.

  Still, it all feels hollow somehow.

  For a long moment, it’s completely quiet on the practice ground. There’s only me and the half-ruined celebration.

  From the woods, I hear a girl’s voice. “Ow, ooh, ow. Freaking Doxy demons.”

  My heart lightens. Can it be?

  “Hells bells. Doxy demons, get over here. Enough already.” The voice gets louder. “Ow. Bitey-biter. See the nice horsehair tail? This way, stupid. Over here, ow, fuck!”

  All of a sudden, a figure steps onto the practice grounds. It’s a human-ish shape covered head to toe in Doxy demons. Even more of the little monsters flutter around the body in a whirlwind of activity.

  It’s my mystery girl. I know it. And Heaven help me, I could cheer for joy.

  The little monsters’ wing flap as she races past me, knocks over a feasting table with a very loud ‘ow fuck,’ and then runs off into the forest again.

  I nod and smile. My mystery girl is correct; that particular path through the trees is the fastest route to the lake.

  After she’s gone, I stare at the spot where she disappeared. Perhaps I should follow. After all, it’s part of my duty to make sure I watch an excellent warrior do her best against a demon horde.

  That’s right. That’s all I’m thinking about. Learning some demon fighting tricks, nothing more. And once I find her, I’ll merely watch her from afar. That’s all. Seeing her again will ensure that all this mushy love stuff will be out of my system forever. After all, I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax and I am no slave to my heart.

  I can stop obsessing about this girl.

  At least, I think I can.

  Her laughter sounds again, and I race off into the woods. And for the first time in ages, I rush off into the unknown and smile, picturing my mystery warrior laughing and fighting. Perhaps definitions of duty can change, after all.

  * * *

  The End

  Read for LINCOLN, Book 2 in the ANGELBOUND series which tells the story of ANGELBOUND Book 1 from Prince Lincoln’s point of view

  LINCOLN, angelbound origins book 2

  Foreword

  Dear Reader,

  In prepping for this novel, I researched similar titles. Basically, I read an ass-ton of books that were rewritten from the love interest’s perspective. In the volumes I reviewed, most authors took their original work and kept it, beat for beat, but built out new internal dialogue.

  Which isn’t easy to do.

  Trust me, I tried.

  So I need to be straight-up here.

  There’s no way I could write that beat for beat book. Don’t get me wrong: in some places, that approach worked fine. But in the interests of full disclosure, here are five ways that LINCOLN is different from other rewritten from his point of view books that you may know and love. You are hereby warned about what you’re getting into, and I won’t feel offended if you decide to click the return button at this point.

  Difference Number One. If you follow my work, then you know I love a good twist. In Angelbound, you may have thought that Lincoln was an anti-demonic douchebag.

  ***Spoiler Alert***

  Lincoln is a good guy. Seriously. That was true when I wrote the original ANGELBOUND, which is why Lincoln fell for his girl before they officially met, Walker shared that Lincoln was obsessed with Myla, the anti-Acca treaty was a theme, and so on. I’m super happy to have this chance to set the record straight. That said, if you really liked him as a anti-hero? Oops. I really tried to make him that, but Lincoln can be stubborn as fuck. As Camilla says in the book, he’s a “nobleman. Noble plus a man.” Boom.

  Difference Number Two. A lot of the drama in ANGELBOUND was about Myla’s mother, friends and school. That’s not Lincoln’s world and it didn’t feel authentic to have him worrying about Cissy’s jealousy or whatever. Our guy’s got his own shit to deal with. In this book, I focus on scenes and themes where Lincoln and Myla were together. The rest is new stuff (more on that later.)

  Difference Number Three. Even when a Lincoln-Myla scene was spelled out in ANGELBOUND—and I keep it in LINCOLN—I didn’t recount every last beat unless I could add something really significant. In other words, many things that Myla noticed in detail (like the nuances of negotiating with the Oligarchy) just aren’t big deals in Lincoln’s experience. For instance, treaties are his world. He’d be more concerned about how Myla was handling things versus anything else.

  Difference Number Four. There’s a new story about Myla which only takes place in Lincoln’s point of view. He’s more than just a handsome face, damn it! Our guy gets an adventure of his own.

  Difference Number Five. In this book, I really wanted to give y’all an inside look at Lincoln’s daily life. In writing ANGELBOUND, I had to build out Lincoln’s world, such as his friendship with Walker, the anti-Acca treaty, seeing Myla at the lake fighting doxy demons and so on. That gave ANGELBOUND’s world texture and logic, but I couldn’t include it directly on the page. Now this is Lincoln’s chance to shine. Huzzah!

  SIDE NOTE: This book ended up long. As you may know, I tend to write books out of sequence and I never know which ones will be huge or short. I used to beat up on myself about it, but I’ve gotten to a place where I’m just happy that I can create things people want to read. As Myla would say, meh.

  With that, I’ll stop with the caveats and let you get to the book itself! I hope you enjoy it.

  Best,

  Christina

  1

  Before me looms a dissolus demon. Think about a waist-high glob of mayo—only both alive and deadly—and that’s the general idea.

  No face.

  No limbs.

  Just mega-bacteria with attitude.

  For hours, I hunted this creature through the forests of Purgatory. Why? I’m both part angel and a demon hunter. One of the thrax. Killing monsters is what my people do. Now I’ve cornered this slime ball (as in a ball literally made of slime) against the back wall of the royal stables.

  All that remains is the kill.

  This won’t be easy.

  Little by little, I pin the dissolus against the wall with my body. The white goo of the demon’s exterior smears across the legs of my Kevlar armor. The creature’s round form pulses, heartbeat style. Reaching forward, I slip my hands through the monster’s outer layer, careful to keep my palms tipped at precisely forty degrees. Unless I use that exact angle combined with slow speed, the demon’s interior will transform from ugly slop into deadly acid.

  Then I’ll be dissolved in seconds. Painfully.

  Sweat beads down my spine as I search inside the monster. My goal is to find the creature’s nucleus—the equivalent of its heart—which is solid, transparent and egg-shaped. I shift my arms inside the demon’s gooey interior. Slurping sounds ricochet through the air. Across the stables, a horse whinnies. Adrenaline spikes through my system. There’s a time limit here. If I don’t grab the nucleus fast enough, then the demon’s insides will turn acidic anyway.

  Again, death. Not a fan.

  It’s an effort, but I somehow keep my motions slow and steady. All thoughts collapse into a single goal: Grasp the nucleus.

  A familiar voice breaks up the quiet. “Interesting monster, eh?”

  Seriously?

  That’s Aldred, the Earl of Acca and an extraordinary scumbag. At this point, he and I are the only people in the stables, if you don’t count the demon. Aldred’s a portly fellow, middle aged with thinning hair and long jowls. His clan, the House of Acca, is a perennial pain in my royal backside. While I spent hours hunting the dissolus, Aldred followed behind at a safe distance. All the while, he released a
steady stream of chatter.

  “I said,” Aldred really drags out the word said. “Interesting monster, right?”

  “Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” I reply.

  “What can I say?” Aldred steps beside me, scanning the scene. “I’m an earl, not a walking thesaurus.”

  For a moment, I see myself in Aldred’s eyes. I’m Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax. My family rules the land of Antrum, which is hidden far below Earth’s surface. The rest of the after-realms consist of the angels in Heaven, demons of Hell, quasi-demons in Purgatory, and the ghouls of the Dark Lands. At eighteen, I’m tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair and mismatched irises. I also happen to be leaning over a possessed blob of white goo the size of an engorged Hippity Hop. Being a demon hunter is rarely glamorous. Neither is being royal, for that matter.

  “This is taking too long,” declares Aldred. With mincing steps, the earl creeps up beside me.

  “Stay back,” I warn. “That’s for your own safety.”

  “No, I shall kick it for you.”

  “Absolutely not,” I counter. “You’ll end up losing your leg, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

  Aldred holds his hands palms forward, in the universal motion for, it’s not my fault. “No need to get testy.”

  Frustration sends my thoughts reeling. How did I end up here anyway? The answer flickers through my mind like images on a carousel. On orders from Verus, the Queen of the Angels, my family and I are temporarily residing in Purgatory, along with all our court. Since my people enjoy a medieval lifestyle, we’ve constructed cabins in Purgatory’s Alighieri Woods. This morning, a dissolus broke free from our royal menagerie. Cue me chasing the monster through the forest while the earl follows behind.

  Which brings me to the present moment and imminent death.

  At last, my fingers brush against the creature’s hard nucleus. Yes! Normally I give demons a chance to retreat before killing them. However, dissolus have the mental powers of paramecium. To them, attacking is nothing personal—it’s just what they do.

  Time to end this.

  Tightening my grip on the nucleus, I yank with all my strength. The clear sphere breaks free from the gelatinous demon. For a moment, the dissolus quivers in place. Then—SPLASH—it collapses into a puddle of translucent sludge. The scent of rotten eggs fills the air. In my right hand, the nucleus transforms into a bright white orb before vanishing altogether. The gooey entrails covering the floor also disappear. Easy cleanup; that’s one benefit of this demon type.

  I exhale a long breath. “And that’s how to kill a dissolus.”

  “Glad I was here to help,” declares Aldred. “We make a great team.” He moves to stand directly in the main aisle of the stables. In other words, blocking my departure. I’ve seen this action from Aldred before.

  “Is there a particular topic you wish to discuss?” I ask.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Now that we’ve spent the morning together, I thought we could talk, man to man.”

  I tilt my head. “Go on.”

  Here it comes. Another discussion about my marriage contract.

  For weeks, Aldred has been pestering me to sign a betrothal contract with his daughter, Lady Adair. At one time, I might have been interested. Now, not so much. The local residents of Purgatory are quasi-demons, and one of those ladies happens to be an excellent warrior named Myla Lewis. As of this moment, it’s been eight days, six hours, and thirty-two minutes since I last saw Myla. At the time, she was fighting off doxy demons in a nearby lake. Her battle technique displayed the perfect combination of beauty, intellect and lethal power.

  Ah, Myla.

  Long story short, I’m no longer interested in signing a marriage contract. Instead, my time’s been consumed with researching a certain Miss Lewis. To that end, I’ve learned she’s fighting in Purgatory’s Arena tomorrow morning. I plan to sneak into an access corridor and watch her battle from a distance. The very idea makes my heart soar.

  Aldred clears his throat, breaking up my thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?” he asks.

  “No,” I reply. Evidently, the earl was blabbing away while I contemplated Myla. Even so, I doubt I missed anything. There’s only one topic of interest to Aldred these days.

  My marriage.

  “Please repeat your statement,” I say.

  Aldred makes a great show of scanning the stables. “I’ve news for you about Minister Devak.” He narrows his eyes to conspiratorial slits. “Great information.”

  This is what humans call a red flag. Why the concern? I’ve been working on what I call an anti-Acca treaty. By uniting the armies of Kamal, Horus and Striga, I’ll have enough warriors to make Aldred kowtow on any number of topics, including my marriage to Adair. Of all those houses, my negotiations with Minister Devak—and therefore the House of Kamal—are the farthest along.

  “And?” I prompt.

  “Devak’s been asking around.” Aldred lowers his voice. “About quasi warriors.”

  A chill rolls up my limbs. Can Devak be interested in Myla for some reason? When I next speak, it’s an effort to keep my voice calm. “What is Devak’s precise concern?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Aldred smirks.

  At this point, that smug grin of Aldred’s tells me two things. First, the earl knows exactly what Devak is up to, and second, Aldred wants something in exchange for the information.

  I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “Name your price, Aldred.”

  The earl exhales a long-suffering sigh. “I might confide everything, but it’s sensitive information … the kind you share with family, you know?”

  Meaning: ink my betrothal contract and I’ll tell all.

  I chuckle. Aldred always overreaches in negotiations. However, what he lacks in finesse he more than makes up for in persistence. “I am not finalizing a contract merely to discover Devak’s plans.”

  “Please; I never expected you to sign this very second,” lies Aldred. No doubt, the man keeps the document in the folds of his tunic along with a quill, just in case. “But perhaps you can commit to spending more time with my sweet Adair? If so, then I might feel like sharing.”

  Aldred thinks he’s being sneaky, but I already made this decision last night. “Mother is organizing a garden party at the Ryder mansion. My plan is to request Adair’s company for the event.” After all, I’ve said all of five sentences to the girl. We may be compatible. It’s a long shot considering my blooming obsession with Myla Lewis, but there it is.

  Aldred rubs his palms together. “Excellent, I’ll tell Lady Adair today.”

  “Your turn,” I state. “What about Devak’s interest in quasi warriors?”

  Aldred bobs his thick eyebrows. “No doubt, you’re aware how the court itches to hunt local demons.”

  My eyes widen with shock. “No, I wasn’t.” A memory flashes through my mind.

  I’m fifteen and late for monitoring a demon patrol in the Canadian Arctic. As I exit the transfer platform, a woman’s screams echo through the cold air. I race out of the ice station and onto a sheet of white tundra under a grey sky. Freezing winds batter my body. Before me, a dozen Acca warriors tear apart a Vantys, which is a deadly she-demon who’s equal parts human and reptile. Aldred stands behind them, pumping his fist in the air. Fresh sprays of blood darken the snow. I race over, my young voice bellowing.

  “Stop!”

  But the Vantys is already dead. And Aldred’s men have placed her head on a pike.

  “This is disgraceful,” I announce. “We are thrax, not a mindless mob.”

  Blinking hard, I try to wipe out that recollection. However, the image of a severed head stays seared in my mind. Thrax should act as ethical warriors, yet Aldred transformed them into something else. There’s no avoiding the truth. With the wrong encouragement, my people can do terrible things.

  And now, their baser instincts may be focused on Myla. I shudder. I’d been actively avoiding thoughts of any fut
ure with Myla. Contemplating her in the present was just too enjoyable. But now? I must consider the risk my people pose to her, myself included.

  “You know us thrax,” continues Aldred. “We’re always seeking a new challenge.”

  Protective energy runs up my spine. I round on the earl. “The Queen of the Angels herself, the oracle Verus, sent us here to interact with the quasi population, not hunt them down.”

  “Bah.” Aldred waves his hand dismissively. “It’s only a matter of time before some quasi marches into our camp, looking for trouble. After all, they’re semi-demonic. It’s in their blood. And once those quasis come after us, then we’ll have to protect ourselves. It’s only right.”

  Images of Myla appear in my mind. She did indeed sneak into our compound, but only because she was on the trail of a mutual enemy, the doxy demons. A weight of worry settles into my stomach. What if someone other than me saw her? Aldred is correct; my people would kill first and ask questions later.

  “You still haven’t shared specifics on Devak and quasis,” I point out. “What did he say, exactly?”

  “Devak’s asking about Purgatory’s Arena.”

  My heart sinks. That means he’s focusing on warriors like Myla. “What’s his interest?”

  “My guess? Arena warriors are the best fighters. Here’s the thing. Maybe you and I can team up.” Aldred grins, showing off his mouth of yellow teeth. “Together, we could claim the first official quasi kill.”

  At those words, anger zings through my nervous system. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear.” I prowl toward Aldred, my voice deep as thunder. “Hunting the local population is off the table, whether they are arena warriors or not. If you or anyone else speaks of this again, I’ll have you shipped back to Antrum and tossed into the dungeons.” For every final word I speak, I tap Aldred on the center of his chest. “Do you understand?”