Lincoln Read online

  Mother taps her chin. “Where should we place the portrait of Devak?”

  “Right by the entrance,” answers Father. He turns to me. “Don’t you agree, my boy?”

  At this point, here’s what I want to say: Guess what? The Tithe is a bloodthirsty freak who asked my permission to kill Myla Lewis. And by the passionate way I say all this, my parents will know I’m in love with her.

  Not the best plan.

  Instead, I decide to set Tithe aside for now. Besides, there are other topics which are more pressing.

  Like Aldred.

  Crossing the room, I take the seat across from my parents. “Place the portrait wherever you see fit.” I pause, shifting my gaze between the two of them. “I have other news.”

  Mother straightens in her chair. “What is it?” she asks.

  “Aldred wants to hunt the local population,” I reply.

  My parents exchange another long look, only this one doesn’t end in laughter. Once more, I know exactly what that means.

  “You were already aware of this,” I say. “Weren’t you?”

  Mother keeps her features steady and unreadable. “Yes,” she replies.

  Frustration burns through me. Even so, I force myself to keep calm. For an inquest to be approved, I can’t seem out of control. “Aldred must be stopped and you know it.”

  “Hold on!” Father slaps his knees. “We’ve news for you as well, my boy. Your mother and I had a marvelous demon hunt before it was cut short. We trapped an Arachnoid for the menagerie. Undefeated, that’s what those demons are.”

  This is Father’s way of trying to derail the conversation. The fact that Aldred’s been mentioned means I’m about to make demands of the House of Acca. Sadly, Father is forever protecting the earl.

  “I’m pleased your hunt went well,” I say smoothly. “But that doesn’t change how Aldred may be targeting innocents. Verus sent us here to make alliances with quasis. We cannot hunt them or allow anyone else to do so. I wish to launch a formal inquest. What do you say?”

  My parents stay silent. Not the response I hoped for.

  At length, Mother replies. “An inquest will upset our court,” she says. “The nobility are already unhappy about visiting Purgatory.”

  “I’ll be discrete,” I counter. “Once you sign on, I can ask questions that have serious consequences. That is all.”

  “Ask one question or a hundred,” says Father. “News of your inquest will spread through the camp like wildfire. A panic could start.”

  Mother nods. “Your father is right. We can’t hold an inquest.” She fixes me with a serious look. “We need to save our thunder when it comes to Aldred. Don’t we have some trade route treaties to negotiate soon?”

  The way Mother emphasizes the word treaties, I wonder if she knows about my anti-Acca project. “Not that I’m aware of,” I reply.

  “Ah, perhaps it’s some other kind of alliance.” Again, there’s the slightest emphasis on that last word. Alliance. That settles it. Mother knows exactly what I’m up to. The upside is, she isn’t revealing my plan. Mother supports my anti-Acca treaty. The bad side is that she won’t extend help for both an inquest and the alliance. I’d press her, but I’m pushing my luck as it is.

  I rub my neck as I think things through. An option appears. “We could also try a more positive approach. Our nobles clearly need something to focus on other than hunting innocents. I could establish more rigorous training sessions.” I’ve been meaning to gauge the training level of Horus, Striga and Kamal as part of my anti-Acca treaty. Two birds, one stone.

  Father huffs out a breath. “You have time for that?”

  “I’ll find capacity.” I drum my fingers on the tabletop, my thoughts racing. There must be more ways to help Myla. Another inspiration hits me. “We could also reinstate the autumn and winter tournaments.”

  “But we’d planned to skip the circuit this year,” declares Father. “Holding the tourneys in Purgatory would mean building a special battle ground.”

  Mother nods. “Instead of tournaments, I was planning hold a farewell ball when we left the realm. That only requires the Ryder mansion, not new construction in this muddy bog of a forest.”

  “You can still hold the ball,” I point out. “I’m talking about planning something … extra.” Mother loves events.

  Mouse, meet cheese.

  “True.” Mother purses her lips. My heart lightens. Mother only makes this particular face when she’s considering something seriously. “I could schedule extra events at the Ryder mansion, if they can spare the space.” Her pursed lips move to one side, which is an even better sign. “I’ll ask the great ladies to help.”

  With Mother half-way to agreeing, I turn my focus on Father. “And what’s wrong with building? It’s another way for our people to stay busy. We could bring in the House of Horus. Their architects are second to none.”

  “Not a bad notion,” says Father slowly. “After all, Horus designed the pyramids.”

  “Precisely.” I return my focus to Mother once more. “How soon can we schedule another event?”

  “I almost forgot.” Mother snaps her fingers. “There’s a ball coming up soon. Where is that parchment?” She pulls a sheet from the pile on the small table before her. “Ah, here it is. An invitation to a diplomatic gala. I can no longer attend, but we can certainly force the men from court to be there.”

  Father’s brows pull together. “Why can’t you go?”

  “The ladies of Kamal are holding a mourning ceremony that evening,” Mother explains. “All noblewomen will attend.”

  “Right, right.” Father doesn’t seem happy about the fact, but it is a well-known practice for Kamal.

  Mother squints at the document. “There will be demons, quasis and angels in attendance. It’s the perfect opportunity for everyone to learn how to interact without killing each other.”

  I keep up my steady drumming on the tabletop. “This is good. We’ll have training, tournaments and a diplomatic ball. Still, there must be more we can do.” Suddenly, I notice that I’ve been drumming my fingers with such force, the whole table is shaking.

  Subtle, Lincoln.

  Mother’s gaze locks on my hand and the tabletop. “How interesting.”

  Damn. I force my fingers to relax. It’s too late, though. I can almost see the wheels of Mother’s mind churning overtime. Does she suspect why I’m really so passionate about this? After all, my parents knew about Aldred hunting quasis. Maybe they know about Myla as well.

  Father leans forward. “We know why you’re really upset.”

  My blood chills. “You do?”

  “This is all Verus’s doing,” grumbles Father. “She claims we’re here to meet the quasis, but let’s face it. The real reason we’re in Purgatory is because of one person…”

  Don’t say Myla.

  “The King of Hell,” exclaims father.

  “Absolutely!” And if I say that a little too loudly, no one seems to notice.

  “You see,” continues Father. “If Armageddon controls the Great Scala, then he controls everything. Verus wants us our help somehow to defeat him. Don’t see why it requires the entire court.”

  “Agreed,” says Mother. “Even if Armageddon invades, it won’t be a problem. Maxon Bane’s ghoul guard will transport him directly to safety. Beyond making sure that happens, I don’t see why Verus wants us here.”

  My chill of worry disappears. Clearly, my parents have no idea about Myla. “What can I say?” I ask. “I appreciate your understanding.”

  That’s a bit of double-speak—after all, I sound like I agree with their assessment of why I’m upset—but when you’re a prince, tricky replies go with the job description.

  Father pats my hand. “Our people will be back home before you know it. Don’t fret about staying here, my son. ”

  “I won’t.” And that’s the truth.

  Another idea appears. In all the excitement about the ball and tournaments, I forgot my oth
er big issue—getting answers about the Tithe. And when it comes to tricky information, there’s only one source, no matter what the question. It’s not my parents, either.

  It’s the mermaids.

  And of all fish folk, everyone knows who’s the most connected and informed.

  The mermaids of New York.

  On top of the training, tournaments and inquest, I can add another item to my protect Myla plan: an unofficial visit to New York Harbor. With that realization, a sense of contentment eases through me. At last, I have a solid scheme to keep Myla safe.

  Perhaps.

  5

  Once my parents agree that I’m only upset about Armageddon, I decide it’s time leave the reception tent. No point pressing my luck. After saying my goodbyes to Mother and Father, I head straight back to my cabin.

  What I’d like to do is visit Earth. There are two ways I can do that.

  First, I can use the temporary transfer platform set up here in camp. Pro: I leave right now. Con: Transfer Central keeps records. Both Mother and Aldred get immediate alerts on unscheduled transports. I’d rather not answer any awkward questions.

  Which brings me to item two: making Walker portal me around.

  Trouble is, I can’t get Walker to show up, no matter how much I yell. Either he’s outside Group Think radius (that’s how ghoul’s communicate) or he’s avoiding me. One way to find out. Which is why once I’m inside my cabin, I scribble out a quick message for Walker.

  * * *

  Buddy: I need to hit cloud-side without Acca knowing about it. Can you portal me to New York? I’d like to chat up the mermaids. As incentive, I will pay you your weight in cough syrup. — Lincoln

  * * *

  I hand off the parchment to a messenger (unlike Transfer Central, my personal staff are always discrete.) Three days pass. No reply. At this point, I could approach another ghoul for transfer help. For instance Ike, the arena night guard, offered to transport me places. That said, Walker still has secret info on Myla. My hunter’s instinct tells me that he’s well within Group Think range, he’s probably just avoiding me.

  All of which means that I want Walker to portal me around, mostly because I want to ask him questions about Myla until he cracks. So I write out another message.

  * * *

  Walker: I’ve sent parchments to your residences in Heaven, the Dark Lands and Purgatory. No word. What’s up? — Lincoln

  * * *

  Two more days slog by. Still nothing. It’s official; Walker’s definitely ghosting me. He does this from time to time, mostly when he’s called off on some secret mission. But never without a quick note to say he’ll be out of touch. Nope, I’m being avoided. Which means I’ll just have to call in the big guns. Or in this case, send a message to someone else.

  * * *

  From: Prince Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus

  To: GSBG-9002, the Honorable Ghoul Minister

  RE: WKR-7

  Hope all is well. When you have a chance, can you please provide me with any alternative addresses you may have for WKR-7 in Purgatory? I’ve tried the one in Central City but he isn’t in residence. The reason for my query is that I’m sending thank-you gifts (deluxe boxes of worms) for your hospitality, and want to be sure he’s included. My scribes already have your address.

  Best,

  Lincoln

  * * *

  In diplomatic speak, this letter translates to the following: give me Walker’s real address and I’ll send you big worm bribes. This isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick with GSBG-9002, by the way. Before, it got me information on Myla.

  Now we’ll see if it works again.

  I seal the envelope and hand it off to a royal messenger. Much as I would love to finish off more letters—there’s a pile on my desk awaiting replies—I have an event to attend this evening. The Ryder diplomatic gala. Before leaving, I instruct my personal guard to bring any new messages directly to the Ryder Mansion.

  With any luck, I’ll have the Ghoul Minister’s answer—and Walker’s help—very soon.

  6

  An hour later, I stand in an ornate ballroom at the Ryder mansion.

  In a tux.

  And so, so bored.

  Why did I think this was a good idea again?

  That’s right, it’s for Myla. This event will keep my nobles busy and my girl safely away.

  I scan the room. It’s a human-style chamber with white plaster walls, a glass chandelier, and small balconies overlooking a dance floor. French doors line one wall; they lead to the gardens outside. Attendees from across the after-realms fill the space: ghouls, angels, quasis, demons and, of course, thrax. Even Armageddon, the King of Hell, is here. He’s a tall figure with a squat body, long limbs and skin that resembles polished onyx. And considering the hungry way Armageddon scans the room?

  The King of Hell’s virtual rule of Purgatory will soon become actual.

  There’s nothing to worry about now, though. A plan already exists to evacuate Maxon Bane—as well as the entire thrax camp—if Armageddon invades.

  I lean lack into the shadows. No one’s sought me out, so I can lurk under a balcony and watch. There’s a particular person I’ve been waiting for, and he has yet to arrive. This would be Silvinio, the Minster of Alliances for the House of Striga. Since Devak was targeted by the Tithe, I’m checking in with my other contacts for the anti-Acca treaty, namely Horus and Striga. Both have been tough to pin down. Jali, the Minister from Horus, has been unreachable as granddaughter is ill. Which is completely understandable.

  That only leaves Silvinio, who has no excuse for avoiding me. Most suspicious.

  I keep up my silent vigil until—yes!—the thrax in question steps through the main archway.

  Silvinio. Just the man I want to see.

  Straightening the lapels of my tuxedo, I circle the outskirts of the chamber, taking care to approach to Silvinio from behind. When being avoided, I find it’s best to approach stealthily. Otherwise, my target tends to slip into the crowd. Silvinio doesn’t notice a thing until I clear my throat.

  “Minister?” I ask.

  Silvinio spins around “My prince.”

  As always, Silvinio is a round muffin of a man with a greasy comb over and pockmarked skin. He’s also as bad with gold as Devak, only the problem for Silvinio isn’t a lack of business skill. No, this Minister of Alliances likes betting on Earth’s demon fighting circuit. Sadly, he’s terrible at it.

  Silvinio pulls against his bow tie. “I was just looking for you.”

  I keep my features carefully unreadable. “Really.”

  Silvinio guiltily scans the room. “I reviewed the last version of your, uh, parchment.”

  “And?”

  “The Earl has signed it.” He lowers his voice. “The anti-Acca treaty.”

  “Excellent.” That makes two houses—Kamal and Striga—that have approved. Now, only one house remains, Horus. I move nearer to Silvinio. “That’s not why I wished to speak to you tonight.”

  “Oh?” Silvinio twists the rings on his hefty fingers. I can’t help but notice how those magical bands are the sort cast to use during demon patrol—these particular rings provide protection from magical illusions. Rumor is, Silvinio ‘borrows’ them and resells for profit. I’d call him on this, but I’ve bigger issues to deal with today.

  Myla’s safety.

  “There are rumors,” I continue. “My nobles may be interested in hunting quasi demons. Heard anything?”

  “Devak was asking around about quasi arena fighters. Aldred overheard him and got the idea for a quasi hunt.” Silvinio’s gaze lands on Aldred, who stands across the ballroom floor. The Earl of Acca now stares at Silvinio with a glare that says, you’re so dead. “Did I say Aldred wanted to hunt quasis?”

  “You did.”

  “I got it all mixed up. Aldred would never hunt quasi demons. Which he’s not anymore.”

  “Care to place a wager on that?”

  “I don’t gamble anymore. Pl
us I’d never make a deal with the Tithe to lift my debts.”

  How wonderful. Discovering Devak asked about quasis? Knowing the earl eavesdropped? Making deals with the Tithe?

  Silvinio’s been a rather busy boy.

  A bead of sweat rolls down the minister’s cheek. “You know who’s really hunting quasis? Minister Jali.”

  “You don’t say.” And I mean this as in, Silvinio really shouldn’t say this. Jali is one of the finest men I’ve ever met.

  A flush crawls up Silvinio’s neck. “Ah, I must leave to comfort my dear wife. She’s sick.”

  “Really? I thought Lilah was attending tonight’s mourning ceremony for Devak. That’s what she told Octavia.”

  “Did I say Lilah was ill? It’s me.” Silvinio grips his stomach. “I’ve terrible intestinal cramps. You may want to step back.”

  Of all Silvinio’s lies this evening, this one is my absolute favorite. “How specific.” Now, I could press Silvinio for more information, but what the minister does next will tell me far more than anything from his mouth.

  “May I?” asks Silvinio.

  “You’re excused from my presence.” It’s a heavy handed reply, but it’s a traditional one.

  “Thank you.” Silvinio walks away at double speed. No, perhaps that’s triple speed. Interesting that Silvinio made no mention of Myla. Devak was the only one with her name, and that was only after he finalized his deal with the Tithe. Once more, everything comes back to that mysterious warlock.

  I really must visit the mermaids. If only I could locate Walker.

  Silvinio runs directly to Aldred, and the two begin whispering. Silvinio points to me while making a rather pathetic face. If I had to guess, Silvinio just said something along the lines of, the prince just asked whether thrax are hunting quasis.