Lincoln Read online

  Walker and I step across the stable floor, hold hands, and walk through the portal. Moments later, we emerge onto a nighttime landscape on Earth. Around me, rolling hills converge on a small valley. Hundreds of warriors line the hillcrests, their silhouettes outlined in the moonlight. Below me, the grounds are well kept; short grasses cover everything in sight. Picnic tables also dot the lower landscape, along with the odd swing set. The thin moon hangs in the night sky.

  That’s it. The Archer’s Moon.

  Clearly, this is a human park of some kind. Based on the fact that there are no mortals to be seen, I’m guessing this is one of those areas that closes at dusk. Which means there will be no humans around to be threatened by the demon. Good.

  Speaking of the demon, she stands at the center of the valley, wearing some kind of gingham dress that reminds me of Dorothy from that human movie, The Wizard of Oz. The she-demon even has a basket and some sparkly red shoes. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Either this is a Class F Mirror Demon—they take forms they see in culture and are notoriously easy to kill—or something incredibly sinister that’s just posing as one. That’s a well-known tactic for Class A demons.

  Since I can’t determine the class on sight, I pull out one of my charms from the House of Striga. This particular item looks like a stick of gum, but it’s actually a demon detection spell. I tear off the wrapper and stare at the chewy treat inside. The words demon type unknown slowly appear on the treat.

  Either my charms are malfunctioning or this is a rather advanced demon. Only a handful of Class A monsters could confound one of the charms from the House of Striga. Concern charges through my nervous system.

  Now I don’t merely suspect this might be a Class A—I know it with all my soul.

  I need to find the Earl of Acca and soon. Attacking this she-demon is suicide.

  Scanning the landscape around me, I see no sign of Aldred. I approach the nearest commander. Good thing I make a point to memorize all the names of Acca officers. “Bertram.”

  “My Lord. I didn’t see you approach.”

  “Where is your Earl?”

  Bertram lifts his chiseled chin. “You’re not my commander when I’m on Acca demon patrol. I have to tell you nothing.”

  For a man who’s about to rush into a suicide mission, Bertram has absolute faith in the Earl’s leadership. This is all because Acca does more brainwashing than real battle training. Unlike demon patrol, the Acca warrior-training schedule is one thing that I’ll absolutely be able to change when I marry into the house. It might be one of the only upsides, actually.

  “Come now, Bertram. You know exactly where he is. Tell me willingly, or I’ll make life back in Antrum rather uncomfortable.” Mostly, I get the royal physicians to say the fighters aren’t fit for duty. There’s nothing worse for a warrior to be on the sidelines for a year or so.

  A muscle twitches in Bertram’s heavy neck. “Fine. My Earl is about a half-league to our right, standing tall with his warriors.” The commander lowers his voice. “Don’t ruin this battle for him.” He glances up toward the sky.

  Bertram doesn’t say anything, but I know exactly what he’s thinking about here. It’s what I’ve spent so much time researching as part of my secret plan.

  The Archer’s Moon.

  This is one of the mysteries of the initiation into becoming a full Acca warrior. None may speak of it, but with enough research, I found out the truth. When the moon is at its thinnest phase, it looks most like the drawn string of a bow. Performing great deeds under the Archer’s Moon—or even as near to it as you can get—gets your name carved on the wall of their inner sanctum. The Earl almost always tries some kind of attack at the Archer’s Moon. Which hangs overhead right now.

  Last year, he got fifty warriors killed when they went up against ten Class B demons. I shudder to think what he has planned for tonight.

  “Excuse me.” I march off in the direction that Bertram indicated. Walker stays close behind. Sure enough, the Earl is wearing regular infantry armor so as to blend in with his troops. However, his meaty belly makes for an unmistakable silhouette, even in the moonlight. I march right up and stand in his line of vision.

  “Aldred. Call a retreat.”

  “Greetings, my lad.” The Earl laughs as if I’d told a great joke. “What a sense of humor you have. Come see this latest display of my military strength.”

  The muscles in my throat constrict with held-in fury. “You don’t know the class of demon.”

  “Sure, I do. It’s Class F, Mirror Demon.”

  “Then why kill it? Doesn’t seem too harmful. And it’s not attacking. It’s against our code to go on the offensive without provocation.”

  “It provocated us before.”

  “Sure it did. And it’s provoked, not provocated.”

  “Whatever. It attacked us before, and it’s absolutely a noteworthy kill. A demon is a demon, my boy.”

  “Class A demons are very different. And they often masquerade as a lower level entity.”

  “Bollocks. That’s a Class F. You’re a coward.”

  Frustration heats my bloodstream. The Earl is lying. It’s his favorite way of handling unpleasant truths. Ignore them. Insult the one who speaks the truth. “This is an order, Aldred. Call your men off.”

  “I don’t need to follow your orders here.” His piggy eyes narrow to slits. “And if you continue to interfere with my demon patrol, I’ll say you’re in flagrant violation of our treaty. I have witnesses.” He steps closer. “In fact, I can execute you right now, just for walking into my patrol. What do you think of that?”

  If Aldred believes that he’ll frighten me, he’s wrong. I’m committed now and beyond caring. “I think your house has demon patrol mortality rates that are three times higher than any other house.”

  “Really? Three times? I wasn’t aware.”

  I’ve heard the phrase seeing red. Now, I know what it means. Fury colors the world around me. “That’s simply not true. We’ve discussed this on many occasions.” I pull his dagger from its sheath. “And if you’re going to execute me, better do it now.”

  “Ho, now. Don’t get hysterical. Where is your father?” Aldred stands on tiptoe, as if hoping Connor were waiting behind me. “He’d see the logic in my battle plan.”

  “Father is on his anniversary trip, so you can give up on that ploy. Call off your troops. There are no humans here. Attacking a demon when we don’t know its class is suicide.”

  “Gah. Look at her. She’s a Mirror Demon.”

  Down in the valley, the she-demon in question looks up us and blinks innocently. I point in her direction. “Did you see that?”

  “What?”

  “That demon is listening to our every word. She just blinked up at us as if to say what a harmless creature I am. That’s a well-known Class A trap. She’s playing you like a fiddle. Class F demons have the IQ of pond scum. This one is Class A, no doubt about it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” The Earl holds up his pudgy pointer finger. “But, in the interests of demonology, may I show you what happens when we call in a volley of bolts?”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “All night long. I told you, she’s been provocating us.”

  “Provoking.”

  “Whatever. The men are nearly out of bolts for their crossbows. This she-demon has a rather interesting reaction.”

  I scan the warriors more carefully. The Acca fighters all stand in neat rows. Battle formation. All of them grip a crossbow in their hands. That’s fine. If the she-demon could attack from this far, she would have already, so crossbows are a safe play. They’re also Acca’s specialty. It’s hand-to-hand combat where things get tricky.

  “Then go on.” It’s always good to learn about new demonic reactions to our weapons.

  The Earl steps forward, raises his arms. “Prepare for Acca Assault Plan Seven!”

  I raise my hand, palm forward. “I’m not aware of that one. All assault
plans are supposed to go through me.” And I only assign Greek letters to them, such as Assault Plan Alpha. Yet another example of the Earl being a pain in my backside. If you give warriors on the battlefield the wrong assault plan number, things get dangerous, fast.

  “Damn those messengers of mine. Must have forgot to send the new plans your way.”

  Fresh waves of rage roll through me. “Aldred, stop lying.”

  “No worries, my boy. Soon we’ll be family, right? It’s all part of what fathers do for sons.”

  The thought of Aldred as my father-in-law makes a nasty taste fill my mouth. I push the thought aside. The marriage is necessary simply because Adlred is so foul.

  Aldred claps his hand on my shoulder. “I can be generous. I’ll not execute you for interfering with my demon patrol this time. And I’ll even make sure the plans get to you soon.” The Earl turns back to his warriors. “Begin!”

  Along the hilltop, the warriors raise their crossbows. Moving as a single unit, they aim at the she-demon.

  After that, they fire.

  The bolts reflect moonlight as they zoom toward their target. Instead of striking the monster, the bolts pass right through her. Interesting. Mirror demons can turn transparent at will, so bolts passing through it is no surprise. However, the way they turn transparent is very particular. Weapons pass through them without seeming to have any effect. That’s not what’s happening now with this particular she-demon. As the bolts pass through her body, there are concentric ripples—like the effect of water droplets on a still pool. My mind spins through everything I know of demon lore. I can almost place the effect, but not quite. A lead weight of foreboding settles into my stomach.

  “That’s quite a response,” I say. “She isn’t transparent so much as—”

  The Earl grabs my shoulder. “Quiet now. Here’s the good part.”

  On the battlefield, the warriors begin to race toward the demon. A chill rolls through my insides. “You said that your warriors would just fire on her.”

  “Projectiles followed by hand-to-hand combat. That’s Acca Assault Plan Seven.”

  Worry spikes through my limbs. “Hand-to-hand combat with a Class A? They’ll be murdered. Hold them back! Stop them now!”

  Aldred rolls his eyes. “I told you, she’s not Class A. She’s a Class F mirror demon.”

  But the warriors are already charging down the hillside toward the she-demon. Even worse, they’re still shooting darts as they go. My stomach drops. This is one of the critical gaps in Acca’s training. These warriors simply don’t know hand-to-hand combat, which makes racing toward a Class A demon even more dangerous.

  I step forward and raise my arms. “Warriors of Antrum, your future king calls to you. Stop!”

  Sadly, the Acca fighters don’t even slow down, let alone stop. If anything, the manic gleam in their eyes shines more brightly. When it comes to battle, they only follow the Earl.

  This won’t end well.

  Beside me, the Earl grins. “They won’t listen to you. These are my fighters, and they value their autonomy.” He rubs his meaty palms over his round belly. “I’m so glad you’re here. All this worry about mortality rates and needling me over who leads my own troops. Watch now. See how well I handle them in this battle. That one little she-demon is as good as dead.”

  The warriors close in, and that’s when the she-demon changes.

  What was a mirror demon now takes the form of a hulking male demon with stout legs, six arms, and a porcupine-like collection of spines along his back. Every inch of the demon is covered in dark plated armor. Its eyes flash red.

  That’s bad enough. What happens next is even worse.

  The demon then slices off into a series of two-dimensional cuts. These are dozens of paper-thin version of the same monster. My heart sinks.

  That’s a Soul Slasher.

  These Class A demons break off into paper-thin versions of themselves. After that, the two-dimensional monsters cut through their prey. Soul Slashers don’t cause any physical damage, but they do murder their target’s spirit. And without a soul, the body dies as well. Painfully.

  My heart rate spikes as I turn to Walker. “Portal me in there.”

  Walker sets his hand on my shoulder. “It’s already too late.”

  Suddenly, the valley is covered in paper-thin versions of the Soul Slasher that cut through hundreds of warriors at once. Acca warriors crumple on the battlefield; their howls of agony reverberate through the night air. Every corner of my soul echoes with their pain.

  “Take me in anyway,” I tell Walker. “Behind the first version of the Soul Slasher.”

  Walker gives me the barest of nods. He’s a warrior, same as I am, which means he knows what I’m planning. Walker pulls out two daggers from his ghoul robes.

  Smart move, Walker.

  I pull my baculum from their holster at the base of my spine. I carry these weapons with me always. Baculum look like two small silver rods, but since I’m from the House of Rixa, I can ignite them with angelfire in order to create any kind of weapon.

  And Walker is right. Daggers are the best choice for a Soul Slasher.

  Walker then opens a ghoul portal, which we both step through. A moment later, we march out once again, emerging right behind the original place where the Soul Slasher first stood. Bodies of Acca warriors litter the valley around us. A hundred paper-thin versions of the Soul Slasher hover above the corpses. Moving in unison, all the versions turn toward their new target.

  Walker and me.

  Perfect.

  This isn’t my first time in battle with Walker. On reflex, we move to stand back to back and face the oncoming horde. Some small part of me screams that this is suicide. More of me is enraged at the loss of so much life.

  I will end this demon or die trying.

  The paper-thin Soul Slashers rush at us in a great shimmering wave. At this angle, they seem like a hundred full-bodied Souls Slasher monsters, but if you could view from the side, you would see that each is barely there.

  Doesn’t make them any less deadly.

  Soul Slashers are easy to kill, but only if you strike them with a dagger at precisely a sixty-six degree angle. I ignite the baculum rods in my hands into two daggers made of white flame and wait.

  Sixty-six degree angle…sixty-six degree angle.

  The Soul Slashers are twenty feet away.

  Ten.

  Five.

  The first Soul Slashers get close, and I get into battle position, arms out. Behind me, I feel Walker’s ghoul robes shift as he does the same. The Soul Slashers only need to pass through my body to kill me.

  I tighten the grip on my baculum daggers.

  One.

  My mind clicks off. My world becomes nothing but demons, battle, and reaction. I make an upper cut. Parry. Slice. One Soul Slasher passes halfway through my body. Pain radiates through me. My breath catches while I cut it through on the opposite side, killing that version of the monster.

  Too close that time.

  My body is slick with sweat by the time we’ve weeded the Soul Slasher horde down to one final paper-thin version. The thing still looms massive with its spiked back and six muscular arms.

  I glance over my shoulder to Walker. “Assault Plan Xi Theta?”

  He nods.

  With that, Walker and I race toward the paper-thin version of the demon, our every step in sync. The last Soul Slasher moves to attack as well. At the last moment, Walker and I split formation to race around each side of the two-dimensional form. As we run along, we hold out our daggers at the precise angle.

  Sixty-six degrees.

  The last Soul Slasher falls over, dead.

  Now all the paper-thin forms rise up from the battleground, forming a great swirl of motion as they rejoin into the shape of a full three-dimensional monster. It’s the last thing this particular demon will ever do in this world or the next. Once the Soul Slasher’s body is reformed, it tumbles onto the ground, a lifeless hulk.

&
nbsp; We killed it.

  Couldn’t happen to a nicer demon.

  I extinguish my baculum and set the bars back into their holster. Normally, I experience a surge of triumph after a successful fight. This time, a weight of sadness settles into my bones. The Soul Slasher is gone, but so are hundreds of Acca warriors.

  On the outside, I must look calm. But inside? I’m howling with rage. Dead bodies lie around me. Their forms show no physical damage, but their souls have been cut to ribbons. They won’t even get a chance at an afterlife.

  The Earl pads up to stand beside me. He gestures across the battlefield. “Now, this is a surprise.”

  “You should have listened to me.” My voice drips with fury. “I want the rest of your commanders on my personal training grounds tomorrow at dawn. They desperately need coaching in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “What? No one could have foreseen this kind of attack.” Aldred’s ears turn pink as his temper rises. “You can’t mean to undermine my careful work with my own warriors. You’re not my son-in-law yet.”

  “You want an inquest on this?”

  “Do that, and you’d be inviting your own execution.” Little bits of spittle fly from the Aldred’s mouth. “You can’t stop me. Interfering with my rights on demon patrol is a killing offense!”

  “Don’t care. Don’t try me. My practice grounds. Your commanders. Tomorrow morning. A week of training in hand-to-hand combat, or I swear, I will raise an alliance of the other houses against you.”

  “You can try. Your father wouldn’t allow it.”

  “My father isn’t here.”

  A long pause follows. Finally, Aldred steps away and forces a laugh. “Bah. What can a week of training do, anyway?” He points right at me. “And only you do the training, no one else.”

  “Agreed.” I turn to Walker. “Take me back to Antrum.”