An egg-shaped cage.
Actually, it’s more like an egg shaped nest thing, considering how it seems to be made from branches. There’s even a hole for crawling in and out.
All in all, there’s not a lot of gray area here. Clearly, Zoar is demanding we step inside that cage. I have to be honest. It would be more convincing if he weren’t short and covered in feathers. It’s just not a good look for being a badass.
Zoar gestures toward the very uncomfortable-looking cage. “Enter and be judged.”
Turning to Lincoln, I raise my fist while tilting my head. There’s an unspoken question here. Do we fight?
Lincoln stares at the Avians surrounding us. I can almost see the battle calculations going on in his head. For a long moment, Lincoln only narrows his eyes. When my guy turns to face me again, all the determination in the world shines in his face. He shakes his head. No.
I sigh. “Right. The Marked One.” Getting in this cage may be the only way to meet that person.
We climb inside.
32
Lincoln
As a warrior, I’ve seen my share of odd battles. For instance, I once fought a mermaid and ended up half-frozen in a glacier. But I’ve never been strung up inside an egg-shaped cage before.
To kill time, I’ve been cataloging my surroundings.
Zero.
That’s how many Avian guards stand below me, Myla, and our cage. Perhaps they lurk somewhere nearby, but it seems unlikely.
Four.
The number of massive egg-shaped cages hoisted to hang from a tree branch above the clearing below. All the others are empty, aside from the one holding me and Myla.
Six.
The number of hours we’ve been stuck in this cage.
Fifteen.
The amount of times Myla and I discussed escaping, only to decide that to find the Marked One hidden with the Avians, it’s best to play by local rules. And that means waiting for the morning nesting, whatever that is.
Twenty.
The length (in feet) between our cage and the ground.
Fifty-seven.
How many egg-shaped houses handle in the nearby canopy of trees. Of these, only about a dozen appear to be populated.
One hundred thirty two.
That’s the number of Avians I’ve counted so far. So far, all resemble their king, only far thinner. And I’m not talking fashion-skinny either. These folks have ribs sticking out and bony limbs. Someone’s not getting enough food. Combine it with the empty nests, and it’s clear the Avians have some serious problems.
Myla sits across from me on the cage’s curved floor. She fidgets. “These branches are totally sticking in my butt. Who designed these things anyway?”
“I suspect they weren’t made for comfort.”
“No snacks, either. Good thing I come prepared.” Myla unzips her dragonscale fighting suit.
My mouth falls open. “You didn’t.”
“What? Bring along a Demon Bar? You bet I did. You know how I get when I have low blood sugar.”
“That will fix the low blood sugar issue, all right.” This is an ongoing point of discussion between me and Myla. Demon Bars are aptly named, I’ll leave it at that.
On second thought, I won’t. I stretch out my hand. Myla tears open the bar with her teeth. “May I see the wrapper?”
“No way. You’re just going to read the ingredients again.”
“For a reason. There isn’t one ingredient on that list without five syllables, minimum. Think about that. You’re putting all sorts of odd chemicals into your body now.”
Myla bits into the chocolate concoction. “Mmm, mmm.” She chews with exaggerated joy. “If you want some, you’ll have to be nice to me.”
“Fortunately, I had a big breakfast. Of food.”
“Eh, you’re just jealous I remembered a snack.”
Grinning, I stretch my arms wide. Words aren’t necessary. Myla shifts to snuggle against me, her back to my chest. It’s glorious.
If I have to be suspended inside an egg cage over a strange village, there’s no one I’d rather be trapped with.
33
Myla
Turns out, it’s not easy to sit still.
In an egg prison.
For hours and hours.
At least, I’ve found a comfy spot cuddling with my back against Lincoln’s chest. We spent more time going through all the Peli-related news in detail. I asked questions. Got answers. Now, we’re just hanging around and watching the blue forest grow.
It’s boring as Hell.
No, I take that back. It’s boring as High School. Far worse.
Lincoln twists a lock of my hair through his fingers. That feels really nice. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Did you notice anything odd while traveling through the gateway?”
“My own screaming, that’s about it.”
His hair-twiddling stops. “I thought I saw Aldred.”
I suck in a shocked breath. “Now that you say it, I might have smelled him.”
Lincoln chuckles. “Smelled?”
“That man has super stinky feet. I was debating about sending him charcoal inserts for his boots. Anonymously. But I figured that since I’m the only person Aldred interacts with who shops at Purgatory Mart, it might be obvious.”
“You should still do it,” says Lincoln.
He’s such a bad influence on me, I love it.
“Okay, it’s on the list.” And unlike urine beverages, it’s in the top twenty.
“If only I knew for certain whether Aldred followed us.” Lincoln drums his fingers on my stomach. It tickles. “What about your igni? Sometimes they have wonderful ideas.”
“True.” Closing my eyes, I summon my Scala power.
Come to me, little ones.
The igni appear around my hands. Only instead of little lighting bolts of power, they materialize as actual flames around my hands. That burns like a mother.
“Go away, little ones!” I cry. “Vamoose!”
The igni shift to land on Lincoln’s hands. My guy doesn’t flinch.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask.
“No, it’s fine. Peli said magic works differently between the after-relams and the Primeval. This must be part of it.”
“Wow, you’re so casual. It’s not like sentient flames are hanging out on your fingers.”
“Oh, I roll with the punches. So are the igni telling you anything?”
“I’ll check.”
This is the crap part, because interacting with igni usually results in a lot of wince-worthy noises. I close my eyes.
Any insights, little ones?
In a shocking move, I get a coherent answer.
No.
Opening my eyes, I find the igni have vanished again.
“What happened?” asks Lincoln.
“I asked if they knew anything and they said no.”
“Just no?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh, my. Magic really does work differently here.”
A new voice sounds below. “Do you require assistance?”
Looking down, Lincoln and I find an angel standing beneath the cage. He’s on the short side with a thin frame and amber skin.
“We’re fine,” I say. “I’m Myla and this is Lincoln.”
The angel waves in the general area where my just igni appeared. “Take my advice. Whatever that was, don’t try your magic here. It won’t work the same way.”
I’m the kind of girl where if you say, don’t eat that, then I’ve got to take a bite. I was happy with the igni experiment being over. But now this angel dude told me not to play around with my magical stuff.
So that’s throwing down a gauntlet.
And I never back off a challenge.
Immediately, I pull out my baculum and try to ignite them. Nothing. I suppose it’s better than almost singing my eyebrows off like my igni just attempted. Still, a lack of weaponry is a
bummer.
“I am Hector,” says the angel.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply.
A million questions zing through my mind. Is Hector friends with Peli? Does he realize the threat of being a Marked One? And how does he get his angel robes dry cleaned? Dad says that’s a lot of drama outside of Heaven. I settle on the easiest query first.
“How did you end up in the Primeval?”
“I was a criminal defense lawyer in human life. You meet all kinds. That’s why it wasn’t too shocking for my angelic-self to meet an talking orange monkey. Peli was articulate, informed, and invisible to everyone else. He told me to hide in the Primeval, so that’s what I did. It’s rather nice staying with the Avians, as a matter of fact. Good floor show.”
I get stuck on the floor show comment. What could that be about? Meanwhile, Lincoln jumps in with another question.
“If it’s not too personal,” begins Lincoln. “May we ask to see your mark?”
I nod. “Good question.”
Hector pulls his robes to the right, revealing a what looks like the tattoo of a blue wing on his shoulder. “It stands for Avian magic in an angel’s body. I didn’t even know I had it until I got close to the Primeval. Then it appeared.”
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“No,” replies Hector. “I can’t access the magic inside it at all. It’s just… there.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Look, I’m not supposed to wait here for long. Here’s the situation. You screwed up by attacking the king.”
“Hey, now,” I say. “He donut-grabbed my boob.”
“That doesn’t matter,” counters Hector. “You’re in Avian lands now. You must make things right at the morning nesting. If you’re lucky, maybe Zoar will let you return to the after-realms in peace.”
“We’re not trying to get back to the after-realms,” corrects Lincoln. “Not yet, anyway. We’re here to destroy the Contagion.”
I point at Hector’s nose. “And you’re in serious danger. The Contagion is after you.”
Hector shrugs. “I’m not worried. The Contagion has been trapped at the same spot for hundreds of years.”
I make a wincey-face. This bit of news won’t go over well. “That was before the Contagion consumed his first Marked One. Tree Guy is mobile now. He’ll be after you next.”
“The Contagion? Mobile?” Hector gestures to the wings on his back. “Not compared to me, he most certainly isn’t.”
“You must listen to us,” declares Lincoln. “We must plan a counter-attack.”
Hector steeples his fingers under his chin. Suddenly, I can picture him as a lawyer, doing that pointy-finger move while telling someone they’d be nuts not to accept a plea bargain. “I’m fine as I am.”
I throw up my hands. “Come on!”
“This case is officially closed,” states Hector.
Based on how Hector’s angel eyes are glowing blue, the guy means what he’s saying. Without another word, Hector steps into the nearby forest and disappears from view.
“Wow,” I state. “That guy is so toast.”
“Hopefully not,” says Lincoln.
Chatting with Hector got our snuggle positions all screwed up. I tap Lincoln’s shoulder.
“Lean back, babe. I need to cuddle if I’m going to get any rest tonight.”
Lincoln winks. “As you command.”
And even though it’s an awkward cage in a foreign land, both Lincoln and I fall asleep rather quickly.
Because cuddling is simply the best.
34
Lincoln
Once again, I dream of white flame.
Angelfire surrounds my body. Heat warms my skin, but doesn’t burn. When the fire dies down, I stand before the same fantasy forest as before. Dark trees sway with plastic movements. A full moon swirls in an impossible sky.
Just as last time, a thin line of blue smoke rises up from the woods. I step into the trees, following a path that leads to a small clearing with a bonfire.
Only it isn’t a fire at all.
Someone’s here with their back to me. All I see are their wings, which blaze with red flame.
I scan my memories. A number of demons have fiery wings. Why would I transport to meet any of them?
The figure slowly turns. I reach for my baculum, gripping the silver rods in my hands. When the stranger turns, I find it is a man.
He looks a lot like me.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I am the Guide. Consider me a manifestation of your natural angelic magic. Only now that we’re in the Primeval, there’s no need for me tag onto Peli’s power in order to contact you. Much easier, don’t you think?”
“Guide.” I turn the word over in my mind. “To where?”
The Guide raises his arms. Blue smoke pours out from his palms, surrounding me. When the haze clears, I’m back in the ballroom at the Ryder mansion. My breath catches.
This is the past. My past.
“I’m about to meet Myla face to face for the first time,” I state.
“Yes, we are.”
Past-Myla steps past me in her glorious orange gown, completely oblivious to the fact that the Future Lincoln watches over her. She waits under a balcony. Past Lincoln stands nearby in his tuxedo-clad best.
No question what comes next.
Our first fight.
“You played such the rogue that night,” says the Guide.
“I was trying to protect her,” I explain. “Aldred saw Myla as a demon to be hunted. I thought that by being rude and callous, I could keep her safe.”
“Yet to this day, you never told her why you acted cruelly.”
“It didn’t matter. I was an ass. I apologized. We’ve moved on.” I watch as the past versions of me and Myla verbally spar. The sight both weighs me down with sadness and lightens my soul with joy.
“You do this to protect her,” says the Guide.
I shrug. “Myla sees enough of the anti-demonic side of the thrax. It’s the principle of the thing. I take responsibility for the impact of my actions, end of story.”
“What would happen if you shared all the details?”
“Not much. Myla’s strong.”
“Such faith in Myla can be good. It might also become dangerous.”
Past Myla storms by me, her tail making a lewd gesture at the previous version of myself. I chuckle.
I so had that coming.
Shaking my head, I force myself to focus on the Guide once more. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I know that my faith in Myla can also be dangerous?”
The Guide nods.
“Do you mean that in terms of defeating the Contagion?” I ask.
“And other things.”
The Guide raises his arms again. White flame erupts around us, erasing both my past and the Guide himself. For the rest of my dream, I meander in a world of angelfire, seeing nothing but a blaze around me.
I never do get burned.
35
Myla
The next morning, I awaken to the sound of voices below our prison egg. I’m still cuddled with my back to Lincoln’s chest. He gently kisses my head.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
“Surprisingly. You’re very comfy.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you been up for a while?”
“A few minutes.”
I shift so I can stretch my legs and look at the scene below. King Zoar stands beneath our prison egg. About a dozen Avian men surround him.
Yawning, I try to recall details from yesterday. It isn’t easy. Mornings aren’t my thing.
“What did Hector say again?” I ask. “They’re holding a morning breakfast, right?”
“I believe Hector said it was a morning nesting.”
“Grr. I was really hoping for food.” Lincoln opens his mouth, I hold up my finger. “And if you’re about to make another speech about Demon Bars, forget it. I’m hangry.”
Lincoln closes his mouth with
a very dramatic pop. He then mimes zipping it shut. Saucy guy.
Zoar leans back his head and lets out a long series of screeches. It isn’t pleasant, but it has the desired effect. Avian men move to stand in a great circle around him.
“My people!” cries Zoar. “Time for the morning nesting.”
At these words, the branches at the bottom of our oval cage open up, sending me and Lincoln tumbling toward the ground. The moment we land on the earth, some birdy minions stand around us, pointing at our chests with spears.
Like that would stop us. Still, Lincoln and I talked about this last night. We want to protect Hector. If that means playing along a little, so be it.
“Good morning, King Zoar,” says Lincoln smoothly. I’m really glad he’s doing the talking. A hangry Myla is a dangerous Myla.
Zoar sniffs. “You’re lucky to be breathing. I’ve made my decision about both of you. But first, we must nest.”
Twenty Avian guys sit in a big circle. At the same time, the same number of Avian ladies come out of the forest. While the guys are pretty blah in terms of feathers, the women have long tails and fancy wings covered with extra fluff. My own tail arches over my shoulder to size up the competition.
I pat the arrowhead end. “They’ve got nothing on you.”
Next follows a lot of dancing and singing. It’s pretty screechy, but I force on a smile.
Play along, Myla.
At some point, Hector comes out to stand and the sidelines and clap along. This must be what he meant by the Avians having a good floor show. Normally, you’ve gotta hit Vegas to see this kind of thing.
Zoar claps his hands. “Now nest!”
The ladies sit down, one on each lap of an Avian guy.
“You shall be mated to each other for the next month,” announces Zoar. “Cheers and good fortune!” There are a lot of smiles and even a few kisses. It’s pretty cute, actually.
Zoar turns to focus on me and Lincoln. “We shall move on to our next order of business.”
Trickster (Angelbound Lincoln Book 3) Page 13
