Baculum: Book Four of the Angelbound Lincoln Series Page 3

  So my honorary older brother and I listen to Mom’s growing list of concerns about moi. It all starts with how I mostly eat from the sugar food group. Then Mom segues over to her worries about my lack-o-friends, sassy mouth, and general bad attitude toward our ghoul overlords. At last, she goes off to take a nap.

  Halle-freaking-lujah.

  With Mom a-snooze, Walker and I finally step into his portal and exit into a section of the Dark Lands called Phantom Forest. This is a pretty nice spot, even if it is in ghoul territory. We follow a path through the trees to reach the arena’s main gateway. After Walker hands over our tickets, the two of us hike up to the top tier of the Viking Arena.

  What a view.

  This place is about twice the size of what we have in Purgatory. The structure is also brand-spanking new, which is a major change for yours truly. The only negative I can see is how the arena floor is covered in purple sand.

  Ever try to run or fight in sand? SUH-ucks. I’ll take the dirt of Purgatory’s Arena any day.

  My focus switches to what’s happening on all that violent ground. A pre-show is now in full swing, and it comes complete with musicians, clowns and acrobats. And the best part? Huge versions of Norse monsters hover in the sky. It’s like a projected float from a human parade. I count a dwarf, some massive snake thing and even some elves. Hella cool.

  Walker taps my shoulder, jarring me out of my reverie. “Would you like to take your seat?”

  “Oh, yeah. Forgot about that part.”

  Walker gestures to the end of the very end of a nearby marble bench. “Here you go.”

  I park my butt. “We didn’t miss the battle, right?”

  “No, the pre-show goes on for a while. When the actual fight starts, you’ll know it.” Walker tilts his head. “Do you want some snacks?”

  “Yes! Anything with sugar, but especially cotton candy and chocolate. Oh, and hot dogs.”

  “You got it.”

  Walker takes off into the shadows. While he’s off rounding up some grub, I take a closer look at the audience itself. The arena is packed. I count thrax, ghouls, quasis and even some humans in the mix. The structure also sports two fancy balconies, one on either side. We have the same deal in Purgatory. Back home, one balcony is reserved for Armageddon, the King of Hell, while the other balcony acts as a home away from home for Verus, the Queen of the Angels.

  Leaning forward, I scan the balcony below me. A big question appears. Who counts as a muckity-muck in the Dark Lands? Unfortunately, it’s too dark to see anyone. Bummer.

  Walker returns with soda, cotton candy, chocolate bars and hot dogs. Delish! I start off with the hot dogs, which are served in shiny tinfoil paper. Once that’s in my stomach, I move onto sugary stuff. In no time, I’ve downed everything and am happily loosening the band on my fancy pants.

  With my feast over, I refocus on Walker. My honorary brother keeps staring at that balcony. I know the determined look in his eyes.

  I gently elbow Walker and nod toward the spot in question. “Know someone down there?”

  “No, never.”

  It’s rare that I can tell Walker is lying. This is one of those times. But before I can tease Walker about it, the lights on the arena dim.

  The games are about to begin.

  I drop all thoughts of the mystery person on the balcony below me. After all, I can tease Walker later.

  A drum beats. The crowd claps in time with the rhythm. This goes on and on until the beats go so fast, the crowd is just clapping and cheering their guts out. Music rises. It’s a little plinky-plink for my taste, but then again, Kell is a dark elf. They’re known for badass looks and creepy child-like music. The scent of rotting flowers fills the air.

  So far, I am not impressed.

  In the darkness, a huge figure appears. It’s an illuminated version of Ringmaster Kell that appears to stands directly on the arena floor. Like the pre-show Norse monsters, the ringmaster’s body is a 3D projection that’s both semi-transparent and shiny.

  “I am Ringmaster Kell!”

  Everyone cheers.

  “Welcome to tonight’s big match! Two new warriors are here, a father and son who’ve chosen the stage names of Lash and Shield.”

  A pair of small figures step out onto the purple sands of the arena. Both wear light body armor and hefty helmets. Some decent applause follows, but it’s nothing huge. I’m guessing it takes time to build a following.

  Giant Kell pipes up again. “Now Lash and Shield shall speak the vow!”

  Although I’m sure the two warriors are screaming their heads off, their voices sound like little squeaks.

  We commit our lives to the Viking Games!

  As vows go, it’s pretty short, which I consider a good thing. In Purgatory, our arena ceremonies can take for-bleeding-ever.

  Once the vow part is done, purple sand churns around the warriors’ feet. The effect reminds me of two small whirlpools. The ground then climbs up the two guys, surrounding them in a violet shell.

  So that’s weird.

  Just when I’m starting to wonder if Lash and Shield can still breathe, the violet particles tumble off their bodies. Lash and Shield look the same, only each warrior now has a glowing blue mark on their arms, as well as fresh weapons in their hands. For Lash’s, both his tattoo and weapon and a whip. The Shield gets a dinky sword-n-shield combo.

  My tail pops up over my shoulder. The arrowhead ends wags from side to side. I give it a friendly pat. “I know, boy. When it comes to weapons, you’re far more interesting, but nobody in Purgatory cheers for you.” I lean in closer. “Yaaaaaay! That’s in your honor.”

  Walker joins in because he’s just that amazing. “Yay!”

  Giant Kell speaks again. “And now, Lash and Shield shall fight a creature that does not exist in this reality. Feast your eyes on the deadly Norse Fossegrim!”

  Giant Kell blinks out of sight. At the same time, the purple sands bubble up into another pile on the arena floor. When the particles rolls down once again, there’s now a massive swamp monster standing in the same spot. I’m talking scaly skin, two pokey holes for a nose and claw-like hands.

  Oh, yeah. This is getting good.

  I pop in a ton of gum. My mouth is so full, I’m having trouble keeping my lips closed as I chew.

  And I’m having the best night ever.

  6

  Myla

  The fun doesn’t last long, though.

  Here’s the deal. I watch pro wrestling matches on the Human Channel (it’s not like we have a ton of TV viewing options). And this battle against a so-called Norse monster? It’s kinda-sorta the same thing. There are a bunch of coordinated hits and counter strikes.

  Color me not-impressed.

  Plus, I check the catalog Walker got me from the concession stand. There are no girl warriors here, ever. What the Hell?

  Plus-PLUS, the catalog openly talks about how Ringmaster Kell uses his magic to guide both the warriors fight. No wonder this battle has all the spontaneity of a puppet show.

  To kill time, I fold my catalog into origami shapes. Like a headless bird. A lopsided airplane. And a skinny accordion. The fight drags on. Eventually, Lash and the Shield knock out the swamp dude. Woot.

  Giant Kell reappears. “I call this match for Lash and Shield!” The crowd goes nutso. More music swells. Giant Kell speaks once more. “Return tomorrow night for another monster match up!”

  The music dies down; the image of the ringmaster vanishes. The lights rise.

  It’s over.

  I lean back on my bench while Walker glares at the balcony again. He seems to be focusing on one guy in particular. All I can see is the dude’s back, but that’s more than enough for me to tease Walker.

  Hey, it could be more interesting than that fight.

  I elbow my honorary undead brother. “The guy in the leather duster… is he the same one who you were watching before?”

  Walker rounds on me. “There is no one in the balcony that you would ever
, ever be interested in.”

  I kick my legs forward. “You know I’m not boy crazy.” I tap my chin. “Or do I have secret admirer?”

  Walker rises. “This evening is over.”

  I chuckle. “Walker thinks I have a booooooyfriend. I’m getting maaaaarried.”

  This is a really immature move, by the way. But in my defense, I’m fifteen. More importantly, it’s rare to find a nerve ending in Walker where he freaks out this much. I swear, the guy’s entire body is shaking.

  “Let’s go.” Walker grabs my wrist, opens a portal, and pulls me in.

  Too funny. What Walker doesn’t know is that he has no reason to worry. I have no plans to fall in love, let alone to marry.

  Ever.

  7

  Lincoln

  I set my hip against the waist-high metal barrier that surrounds the balcony.

  Tonight’s game is over. Lash and Shield won.

  Below me, the audience streams up the aisles in their rush to leave. I come to a final conclusion. I’m giving Father a solid no on creating a safe zone here for thrax.

  My reasons are simple. Sure, warriors and spectators enter the games of their own free will. And it’s no secret that Kell commands the moves of his fighters. That’s fine for the Viking Games. It’s just not the thrax way.

  A voice sounds behind me. “What did you think? Would you like to join the games?”

  Turning around, I find Ringmaster Kell. “I appreciate the offer, but this isn’t for me.”

  “But when your father invited me on demon patrol, he made it seem you’d all want a refuge here.”

  “I don’t see that happening. This place isn’t right for my people, either.”

  “Why not? Is the fighting not real enough for you? I have to control warriors with my magic because I don’t have good raw material to work with. I need better fighters.” His features tighten with anger. “I’ve sacrificed too much for these games to be less than perfect.”

  My brows lift. “And what did you sacrifice, exactly?”

  Moments ago, Kell seemed calm. Now the ringmaster pounds his chest. “I’m the one asking questions here. Doesn’t the weight of the crown sit heavily upon you? Wouldn’t you like a different future?”

  The angrier Kell gets, the easier it is for me to stay calm. “I thought my life was my father’s to use as he saw it.”

  Kell stalks closer. “Allow me to deal with King Connor. My invitation is for you. No one enters the games without consent. Do you agree to join?”

  I eye Kell from head to toe. The ringmaster runs a successful fighting show where he commands every move. Yet it’s not enough. What is this guy’s problem?

  I shake my head. Not sure I want to know.

  “Look,” I begin. “I didn’t want to join the Viking Games when you asked me in Brazil. I’m even less interested now.”

  “So you say. But I’ve the patience of Odin.”

  I tilt my head. “Meaning?”

  “You’re already my warrior. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Smoke billows around Kell. When the green mist vanishes, the ringmaster is gone as well.

  BACULUM

  Years Later

  Right after the marriage of Lincoln and Myla

  1

  Lincoln

  Twenty Years Old

  I’ve fought twelve demons at once. When a wall of magical fire loomed ahead, I rode my horse through the blaze at full gallop. While fighting a magma monster, I tumbled head-first into a live volcano. In every case, the odds were against me, yet I emerged victoriously.

  My warriors call me fortune’s favorite.

  Looking back, all that luck is nothing compared to this moment. I’m a part-angel king who was raised to marry for duty. Finding love was supposed to be impossible. And wedding a part-demon queen? That should have been unthinkable.

  But as of yesterday, Myla Lewis became my bride. And this morning, she rests in my bed.

  Fortune’s favorite indeed.

  Myla’s waves of red hair fan out behind her on the pillow. The cotton sheet clings to her lovely curves. Even asleep, there’s a tension and life to her that shines out across the room. My angelbound love.

  I shake my head. How can this amazing woman want me? I’m an uptight royal with nothing but obligations to offer her. But somehow, she’s here.

  What a gift.

  With gentle movements, I prop my weight onto my right elbow. Using my free arm, I pull a very-asleep Myla under the covers until her naked curves press against my bare flesh. Warmth radiates wherever we touch. As my bride shifts, a gentle sound emanates from her lips. I lean in for a better listen.

  Turns out, my woman has her sleeping quirks. With every inhale, Myla makes a little snort. That’s unexpected. How wondrous that I have a lifetime to learn her every secret and eccentricity.

  Myla’s eyes flutter open. She begins the day with a snarky smile. “Good morning, Mister the King.”

  Leaning down, I rub my nose along the length of hers. “And the same to you, Madame the Queen.”

  Here’s what that means. Yesterday, Myla and I only planned to get married. But thanks to some drama with the Earl of Acca, we also become King and Queen of Antrum.

  That wasn’t the sole surprise, either.

  Myla’s also a supernatural being called the Great Scala, meaning she’s the only being who can move souls to Heaven or Hell using tiny supernatural lightning bolts called igni. Last night, those igni announced that Myla was pregnant.

  That makes us man and wife.

  King and Queen.

  Father and mother.

  All in one day.

  Plus, I finally got to kill Aldred. I consider that part an extra bonus.

  Sure, Myla and I had to fight off the King of Hell during our wedding proper. But doesn’t everyone have a few things go off the rails during their nuptials?

  With gentle movements, I set my palm against her stomach. “Good morning, little Maxon.”

  Myla frowns. “You don’t think it’s too soon for a baby?”

  In this moment, I know I’ve been waiting for a child all my life. I brush my thumb in gentle arcs on Myla’s belly. “No, it’s perfect timing.”

  “Hey, there. You’ve been thinking about parenting for a while, haven’t you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Only because you plan everything years in advance. Why would a kid be any different?”

  I can’t help but smile. Before Myla, I’d been so alone. People wanted things from me, even my parents.

  Who am I kidding? Especially my parents.

  But with Myla, everything is easy, natural and fun. She isn’t asking me about Maxon because she has her own ideas about parenthood and wants to sway my point of view. Myla’s genuinely curious. She cares.

  “I haven’t thought about it formally, but I suppose I have a few ideas.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “To begin with, my parents did a lot of things right. They always had ultimate faith in my skills. Their joy in my achievements was real.”

  Myla gives me the side eye. “But?”

  I tilt my head and think things through. “From a young age, it was clear that I was far more advanced than my peers. My parents didn’t want me to be held back by the limitations of others. They had me raised, trained and tutored solo.”

  Myla scrunches up her features in disgust. “That sucks. I didn’t like my peers, except for Cissy. But at least I knew them. What else?”

  “I was born with a massive to do list. I want our son to have some freedom.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good idea.” Myla rests her hand atop mine. I grin. This is the first time we’ve both touched her stomach in honor of Maxon. My heart warms.

  “What about you?” I ask. “I’m certain you have some plans as well.”

  Myla winks. “You know me. I’m with you on the responsibilities thing. My first arena death match took place when I was way too young.” Myla’s tail pops up from
the covers. The arrowhead-shaped end moves up and down in a way that says, oh yes.

  Myla continues. “Plus, my mother was hella over-protective. Although, she had her reasons, considering how my secret father was actually an archangel. Still, I always knew Mom worried about me because she cared. Octavia is like that, too.”

  The words hang out there, if unsaid. But it’s not that way with Connor.

  I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “My father has his reasons, too.”

  Myla curls up against my side. “Want my take on Connor?”

  “I’d love it.”

  “This is going to start with Cissy, but it will circle around. You with me?”

  “Always.”

  “Well, Cissy’s mother constantly bitches about how hard it was to be pregnant. Cis has a golden retriever’s tail and I guess it was wagging all the time. Whatever. Then, when the actual birth happened, it lasted for days because Cissy has a super-large head.”

  I purse my lips and think this through. “Now that you say it, she does have a plus-sized noggin.”

  “It’s why she styles her hair into Shirley Temple curls. She thinks it hides her massive face. Anyway, Cissy’s mom was always saying how this terrible pregnancy meant that Cis has to do fill in the blank. Like one time, Cis had to hang up some old ugly painting in her room just because her dad stole it.” Myla clears her throat. “Excuse me. Cissy wants me to say that her father reappropriates stuff.”

  “What was the painting?” We’re going off the rails here, but I can’t help it. As thievery goes, Cissy’s father has excellent taste.

  “The painting showed some old couple dressed in black with wacky neck gear. The artist was…” Myla snaps her fingers. “I’ve got it. Remmy-somebody.”

  “Was the painting A Lady And Gentleman In Black by Rembrandt?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”