Acca

by Christina Bauer

  As I hurtle toward the ceiling at an ever faster rate, my tail tightens its grip on Wasp-Daria’s insect throat. At the last possible second, I leap off her back and swing upside down, hoping my momentum will steer her away from the rock above us.

  It works. Sadly, it works too well.

  Instead of making a high-speed crash into the ceiling, we’re now diving Kamikaze-style toward the floor and my frozen guests. Wasp-Daria buzzes from side to side, trying to shake me. It works. My grip on Wasp-Daria slips until I’m only hanging on by her stinger. Sure, my tail is doing the hanging-on part, and since it’s covered in dragonscales it can’t get stung, but still. This has disaster written all over it.

  Below me, Lincoln holds out arms. “Jump, Myla! I’ll catch you.” Damn, do I ever love that man.

  Wasp-Daria speeds toward the floor. I point to a spot about three yards ahead of Lincoln. “There, okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  For the record, it’s not easy to think when you’re hanging upside down from a demon bug in your wedding gown, yet somehow I’m able to calculate when I should free myself from Wasp-Daria. Ideally, I need a little runway so I have a fighting chance for Lincoln to catch me.

  There’s also the matter of the stinger. Sure, I could just let go. However, the thing has felt loose for a while now and if I can cause Lady Daria a little extra damage, that’s what I’ll do. I begin my silent countdown.

  Three, two, one.

  At the end of the countdown, my tail tightens its hold on Wasp-Daria’s stinger and yanks, hard. There’s a loud crunch as it pulls the stinger right out of her backside. Perfect. For a few seconds, I free-fall through the Chapel. Then, strong arms enclose around me. Lincoln.

  “I got you.”

  “You’re awesome, have I told you that?”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Once or twice.”

  I chuckle. “Good.”

  Wasp-Daria lands back on the stage. Red light envelops her body again. Yipes. Another form is coming. I realize that I’m still holding her wasp stinger with my tail, so I chuck it aside.

  Lincoln sets me on my feet. “She’s a tricky one.”

  “I know. Right? It’s like she doesn’t have any vulnerability. I mean, beyond the fact that I was able to pull out her stinger and all. But that didn’t slow her down.”

  “My warrior sense tells me she’s hiding something. Keep an eye out.”

  “I’ve the same suspicion, my love.”

  The red light around Wasp-Daria grows brighter as her body balloons in shape. Within seconds, she’s taken the form of a massive stone golem. These are elementals and super-rare. Unfortunately, they aren’t demons, so I don’t know too much about them. The form Lady Daria has taken is nine feet tall, bald, and has what looks like elephant hide for skin. The thing also sports the single largest forehead I have ever seen, along with a filthy loincloth and a massive club. For the first time, I’m wishing my wedding gown had some hidden pockets for weapons. That sure would come in handy right now.

  I jump up into a somersault, planning to land behind her onstage after spearing her at the top of her spine with my tail. It’s a classic soft spot for most creatures. Once I’m airborne, I notice something that throws off my game completely.

  There’s another face on her neck.

  I land behind Golem-Daria, my tail still arched.

  Golem-Daria lurches down from the stage while taking a swipe at Lincoln with her club. Lincoln changes his baculum into a trident, spears the club, and wrests it from her grip with ease. His long sword strikes her upper thigh, getting in our first good hit of the battle. Golem-Daria roars. I smile from ear to ear.

  That’s my guy, ladies and gentlemen.

  Lincoln circles her, looking for another opportunity to strike. “You saw something when you leaped over her, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, there’s a face on her neck. What is that, anyway?”

  Golem-Daria makes a few more lunges at Lincoln, trying to grab his neck with her thick hands. Lincoln dodges her attacks, but takes the chance to check out her neck. A long moment passes before he speaks again. “Drusus.”

  My brain seems to go on pause. Suddenly, it’s obvious how Lady Daria survived. “Oh, man. She shape shifted to take Drusus inside her. That’s why she needed the veil. That’s pretty clever.” It makes her harder to fight, though. If we kill her; Drusus might be able to keep them both alive.

  Lincoln’s thinking the same thing. “Let’s use Assault Plan Omicron.” I know what that one entails. We’ll stab the hearts of both demons at the same time.

  “Got it.”

  Lincoln and I rush into action. I make another frontal assault by jumping into the air. This time, Golem-Daria sees it coming. Even though she’s big as a barn and busy fighting Lincoln, she’s able to move out of the way. I land on my ass, which pisses me off.

  Red light surrounds Golem-Daria as she transforms back into her temptress form. Lincoln still stands before her; I’m at her back. Even so, I don’t need to see her face to know that she’s working her lust demon wiles on my guy.

  Too bad he’s an expert in that area.

  Wave after wave of lust demon power rolls around us. Lincoln stares at Lady Daria, and for a second, there’s that blank puppy-dog look I used to see in Prescott’s face. Can she really cast one over on my guy?

  Lincoln all-out laughs. “Nice try. But I already have a lust demon.”

  My tail does a happy dance as Lincoln reignites his baculum into a long sword and stalks toward Lady Daria. Her leg is bleeding through her gown and she stands at an odd angle. Lincoln got a good hit in, so she’s not able to move any more. You’d think she would get a weapon, yet all Lady Daria does it clutch her veil more tightly against her shoulders.

  Something inside me clicks. I know where Drusus is hidden. All those damned veils. He’s under them for sure.

  With that, I know exactly how to end this.

  Running forward, I grip Lady Daria’s long veil and cloak, tearing them away from her back. And there he is.

  Drusus.

  The dude is half dead and mostly rotting. A stench worse than anything I’ve ever known hits me straight in the face. All in all, Drusus is nothing more than a half torso merged into her back. I’m not one to feel sorry for demons—not for the evil ones, anyway—but my heart does go out to Drusus a little bit. He’s all mangy and green, more skeleton than man. In fact, I’m pretty sure this dude was the model for the Crypt Keeper.

  I arch my tail over my shoulder. “Let’s do this.” And by ‘this,’ I mean skewer two hearts at the same time.

  Lincoln raises his long sword. “Now!”

  While Lincoln stabs Lady Daria from the front, I get Drusus from behind. There’s a gross squishing noise from my side and some greenish glop spurts on me. I guess that’s to be expected since Drusus was already pretty much dead. Still a little gross, though.

  Lady Daria and Drusus fall over, dead. I’m about to ask if we should check them when they burst into flames. Within seconds, the two are fried down to nothing but a few bits of charcoal. I let out a long breath.

  We did it.

  I rush over to inspect the spot where the gurgling portal had opened up. There isn’t even any coin left over to deal with. Total battle bonus.

  A second later, the Chapel comes back to life again. Everyone is freaking out, and so I take a page from Lincoln’s book and whistle super-loud. It’s one of those moves where I put my pinky and pointer finger on either side of my mouth and let go. The place falls silent. No one fucks with the battle bride when she makes that kind of noise.

  “Here’s the deal,” I say. I step over to Aldred’s cage and lean against the steel bars. “Aldred is a dick. And Lincoln and I…” I pause, unsure what to say next. Beyond whistling and starting to order everyone around, I hadn’t really thought things through.

  “We’re going to the courtroom, right now.” Lincoln reignites his baculum and points it at Aldred. “Guess who’s coming with
us?”

  Alfred whimpers. “But this is all a misunderstanding.”

  “Tell it to be Arbiter, buddy.” With the help of Lucas, we magic Aldred out of his cage and onto his feet. Good sport that I am, I help Aldred walk away. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration as technically my tail drags him away after I wrap it around his throat, but the same result is achieved.

  The moment we hit the Chapel floor, our parents and friends are upon us. Dad is thrilled to have kicked Armageddon’s butt, family style. Mom’s relieved and a little grossed out about the snake demon blood on her tail. Octavia looks serene. Cissy asks me if I can train her in personal defense techniques. After years of trying to get her into fighting, it seems she may have family gotten the bug. Zeke says something dicky and I ignore him. Walker gives us both a quick hug before going off to help the House of Striga find anyone who’s hurt and ensure they are healed up with magic. Walker really is the best.

  All through this, we don’t see Connor. Not that I care. In fact, very little could bug me at this point. Why? My tail remains wrapped around Aldred’s throat.

  With all the greetings and regrouping behind us, Lincoln and I head off to court. We’re sorting this Acca thing out right now, one way or another.

  29

  A few minutes later, Lincoln, Aldred, and I march into the courtroom. The cavern seems unchanged from our last visit—it’s still a massive cave with a ceiling that’s furrowed by stalactites. Wooden benches line the long stone floor. I let go of Aldred’s neck a while back. It was grossing out my tail. Now, Aldred keeps pace right before us, mostly because Lincoln’s baculum sword is pointed at the dude’s spine. Nothing like an angelfire blade to help you keep your focus.

  Across the room, the Arbiter sits ramrod straight on her raised stone throne. Her gaze stays locked in profile. Huh. Maybe this is how she sleeps? Before we entered, there was no one else in the courtroom. The folds of the Arbiter’s long white robes don’t move an inch. Once again, it gives the illusion that she really is a statue.

  All of a sudden, the Arbiter turns in our direction. A wisp of a smile curls her mouth.

  Oh, she’s alive and awake, all right.

  “I’ve been awaiting you,” says the Arbiter. Her deep voice echoes through the chamber.

  Lincoln, Aldred, and I pause before the raised platform. I give the Arbiter a little wave. “We brought you something.”

  The Arbiter’s features turn unreadable. “And what is this?”

  “More testimony.” Lincoln extinguishes his baculum. Immediately, Aldred turns to haul ass to the exit door.

  That’s so not going to happen.

  I turn around to grab Aldred by his tunic and notice that half our wedding guests seem to have followed us here from the Chapel. A crowd is gathering inside the courtroom, silently filling up the many benches. Mostly, it’s thrax.

  And man, do they ever look pissed.

  I worry my lower lip with my teeth. Angry thrax could be good for us…Or very, very bad for us. I guess there’s only one way to find out. “Hang on.” I tighten my grasp on Aldred’s tunic and drag him back. “You’ve some ‘splaining to do, Al.”

  I shove Aldred until he stands before the Arbiter once more. He clasps his hands together at his neckline. “Oh, great Arbiter. Have pity on a poor father. I’ve been so upset at losing my sweet daughter, Adair. I made poor choices. That’s not who I am. Not really.” He points to Lincoln. “This one has tricked me into looking guilty.” Next he wags his chubby finger in my direction. “And she’s even worse, using her lust demon wiles to clutter my mind.”

  I snort. “As if.”

  Aldred falls to his knees. “This is all a misunderstanding. Take pity.” He lowers his voice to half-whisper. “They’re both mad, I tell you. All these two think about is how to gain more power. You must protect us all from them.”

  The Arbiter’s face stays totally devoid of emotion, which sucks. Because if she sides with Aldred, then we’re really screwed. Again.

  The Arbiter focuses on Lincoln first. “And what do you have to say?”

  “Aldred is the one who’s mad with power. He sacrificed his own daughter to his ambitions and never shed a tear when she died. He even made a pact with Armageddon to release the King of Hell into the realms of Earth and Antrum, all so he could rule.”

  Lincoln’s parents break through the crowd. Connor is the first to speak. “Are you all right, son?”

  “It depends.” Lincoln’s in total prince mode, which means he isn’t taking any crap from Connor. Good. “Why are you here? Because if it’s to help Aldred, then the answer is that I’m furious.”

  At this point, I really, really, really want to cheer, but I think that might be bad form. I let my tail do a happy-dance instead.

  “I’ll do whatever is best for you, son. I’m simply glad you’re not injured.”

  “Hello?” I raise my hand. “Future daughter-in-law, right over here. I’m fine, in case you were wondering.”

  Lincoln shoots me a sly look. We’ve had multiple conversations about how son-centric Connor is. At first, I thought it was just a lot of paternal love. Now, I’m not so sure. The guy’s a demon-phobe or something.

  Aldred hops to his feet. “Connor, you must help me.” The crowd breaks out into grumbles. I frown. It’s still not clear who they’re rooting for here. Which is a little sad, considering these folks were all invited to our wedding.

  Note to self: make better friends.

  At least, my parents are here along with Octavia, and Xavier and Camilla, and they look appropriately concerned. That means a lot.

  The Arbiter raises her hand, palm forward. The room falls silent. “And if this man is found guilty, what is the punishment you seek?”

  “I had asked before that he be exiled from Antrum.” Lincoln shakes his head. “Now, I wish for something else.”

  Lincoln and I had discussed this a while ago, so I know exactly where he’s going with this. He’ll ask for a life sentence in a dark dungeon.

  “As the high prince, I request a duel of execution. A battle to the death.”

  Or not.

  I grip Lincoln’s arm. “Battle to the death?” Some small voice reminds me that this is the exact same conversation I used to have with my mother, only she was the clutchy one who whined about everything being “to the death” and I was one who wanted to fight. I listen to that little voice for a moment, then go right on with my grabby hands and over-the-top worrying.

  “To the death?” A small smile rounds Lincoln’s mouth. “You used to do that all the time at the Arena. And at the tender age of twelve, I might add.”

  I lower my voice as much as possible, not that I really need to. The whole crowd is chattering away so loudly, I can hardly hear myself think. “I don’t like this idea.”

  “You must admit; it has its merits.” Lincoln glares at Aldred in a way that says “I’ve been wanting to kill that guy for a long time.”

  “Isn’t there anything else? What about the whole dungeon idea? We could make sure he was locked up with rats and old incontinent dudes.”

  “Appealing as that sounds, our family won’t be safe as long as Aldred is alive. A duel is the only option that keeps our family secure while still following thrax tradition.” He takes my hands in his. “Even so, if you give the word, we can choose another path.”

  My stomach does few flip-flops. Another path. I know what route Lincoln’s talking about here: walking away from the throne and leaving the thrax to Aldred. He’d do it, too. I scan the courtroom. Nervous thrax faces peer at me from the packed benches. Sure, many of them have been anti-demonic assholes, but others have been kind and welcoming, too. It would suck to watch them suffer.

  I carefully inspect every line of Lincoln’s face. My guy knows he can take down Aldred. And yet, he’d walk away from everything just for me. Sure, we could live in Purgatory and Lincoln would never complain about leaving his crown behind. Even so, I know one thing for certain.

 
It would bug the crap out of me.

  Every time I’d get news about something awful that Aldred did, I’d want to suit up as King and Queen and make it right. Only, I wouldn’t be able to. In the long run, neither of us could live with that. Plus, Lincoln really is a kick-ass warrior. He’ll flatten Aldred in no time. Hopefully. I have no idea how these duel thingies work, though.

  That said, I can’t let this opportunity pass us by, for Lincoln or for me.

  “I have one thing to say here.” I lock gazes with my guy, trying to convey all my adoration and trust with a single look. “Go rip his throat out, honey.”

  A slow smile rounds Lincoln’s mouth. “I love you.”

  I give him a kissy face. “Right back at ya.”

  “Besides, you know me. I have a plan.” Lincoln turns to the Arbiter. “It is decided. I formally request a duel of execution. Nothing else will do.”

  The courtroom falls silent as the Arbiter raises her hand, palm forward. “I have reviewed the evidence you provided. The high prince’s request is granted.”

  “What?” All the blood drains from Aldred’s face. “The prince is a far better warrior. I won’t agree to it and you must have my consent.”

  “Then I allow you to set terms for the battle,” says Lincoln. “I won’t bring any weapons, if you like.”

  It’s an effort to keep up my calm-face because inside I’m screaming. No weapons? What is he, nuts? I mean, technically I go into a battle all the time without a traditional weapon. That said, I always have my tail.

  Aldred leans back on his heels, a sly look crossing his face. “In that case, I consent to the duel. No weapons.”

  Now, I know Aldred enough to realize he has something sneaky up his sleeve. I’m really starting to regret not having taken the offer to grab my guy and go back to Purgatory.

  The Arbiter lowers her head and begins a low chant. I can’t tell what language it’s in, but the unmistakable zing of magic fills the air. So many things start happening at once, it’s hard to keep track. The stage on which the Arbiter sits flattens out until it’s level with the main floor. The Arbiter’s throne whips up into the air until she’s seated with her back against the top corner of the wall. Something about this position reminds me of a Roman Emperor watching a gladiator battle from a balcony high above the arena floor.