The Dark Lands (Angelbound Origins Book 5) Page 4

“Here is what I know,” continues Trav. “Rumor is, someone found Lucifer’s Gauntlets. Started using them for thieving. Took books from the Dark Lands. Stole portal power from some ghouls. Been sneaking around all sorts of places, causing trouble.”

  “That’s old news,” I counter. “They were talking about it on Good Morning Purgatory. What I want to know if this. What does the Viper want with Lucifer?”

  Trav shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I shouldn’t say.”

  “Come on, you’ve told me so much already. And…” How I hate myself for saying this. “If you share what the Viper wants, I’ll bless all of you, right now.” I gesture to my igni, who are still floating around. “The igni will make it super sacred and everything.”

  Eew, eew, eew.

  Trav perks up. “Really?”

  “Really and for truly.”

  Although I might need to take a shower afterwards.

  “Well, the most powerful person of all is—”

  I hold up my hand, palm forward. “Don’t say Armageddon.”

  “I wasn’t going to. It’s Lucifer. Word is, the Viper wants to steal Lucifer’s powers. It would be the ultimate heist.”

  “Lucifer? LU-CI-FER.”

  “Yup. He’s the most powerful of the archangels.”

  “But he’s a psycho bunny. He’ll never hand over his abilities. That’s a good way to get dead.”

  “You asked what I know,” says Trav. “Even though it puts me and my brothers at great risk, I told you everything.”

  Translation: the Enmity brothers know who the Viper is. Maybe the Viper visits this very farmhouse. I scan the windows once more. Nothing is visible. But is the Viper in there right now?

  “Mind if I come inside?” I ask sweetly.

  “No, just give us your blessing and be on your way.”

  “Sure I can’t have like a quick tour?”

  Trav puffs out his lower lip. “No question what you’re thinking. The Viper isn’t any friend of ours. There’s no evidence of the Viper inside the house either. I did what you asked. Now you need to keep your word.” His tail arches over his shoulder.

  He’s ready to fight.

  I narrow my eyes. There are two options here. One. I could fight these guys, burst down the door, and ransack their house. But that would be definitely bloody, possibly unwarranted, and absolutely end up as a story on Good Morning Purgatory. Plus, I have a rule—never attack unless physically provoked. Two. I could play nice, do the blessing thing, and then come back later and snoop. As an extra bonus, option two means I still keep friendly relations going with the Enmity brothers in case I need more intel.

  Option two it is.

  “No tour,” I announce. “How about I give out the blessings instead?”

  “Thank you, Scala Mother.” Trav puffs out his chest. All the other brothers do the same. “We’re ready.”

  After raising my arms, I realize one fact. I have no idea how to bless anyone. So I make stuff up. “By the power of igni and me, the Great Scala, I hereby bless the Enmity brothers and their farm.” That feels a little light, so I keep going. “May your worms be wriggly and sell at great prices. May your tails ever arch and drip venom. And may you eventually see fit to give me a tour. And thusly, my blessing is over.” Again, not sure if thusly is a word, but whatever. I twiddle my fingers at my igni. “Be gone.”

  In an act of stupendous compliance, my igni actually disappear.

  Wow. Maybe I should buy two lottery tickets.

  “Thank you for your blessing, Scala Mother.” The other brothers murmur their appreciation as well.

  “Glad you liked it.” Because I thought it sucked.

  Trav gives me a low bow before rounding on his brothers. “Come along. Let’s allow the Great Scala to get on her way.”

  Trav stomps back into Purgatory Tara with his six brothers following along behind him. Huh. Surprising how they don’t singing Heigh Ho with something about scorpion tails mixed into the lyrics. The door closes after them with a soft click.

  Oh, well. At least, that’s over with. Plus I happen to know that there’s a Pulpitum transfer station not far from here. A short walk might clear my head.

  Turning around, I scan the cobblestone path toward the main road. A little pang of excitement moves up my rib cage. It’s goofy, but I’m hoping that Lincoln arrived while all the drama went down with Trav and Walker. All in all, it’s been a pretty confusing day and I’d like to chat things through with my guy.

  Yet there’s no Lincoln. Bleugh.

  With slow steps, I march down the cobblestone path. All the while, I try not to think about Walker.

  No way will I contemplate how he always snuck me into Arena matches.

  I refuse to obsess that he’s not only a great warrior, but also a super talented artist. His drawings of demons belong in a gallery somewhere.

  And I absolutely will not stew over this mysterious situation with Drayden and Lucifer’s Gauntlets.

  Nope.

  Not going to worry.

  This is me, happily marching along the path to the Pulpitum, not a care in the world. I have a chubby baby, loving husband, and nearly perfect kill record with demons. Why would I worry? My shoulders slump.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

  I already miss Walker so much, I could scream. Or punch someone.

  Who am I kidding? It’s punch someone.

  Half an hour later, I march across an empty and muddy field. With every step, my sandals get stuck in the gunk. Each time I yank out my foot, there’s this gross sucky-slurpy noise. Ugh.

  The footwear side of this stroll is a disaster.

  Now I could command my Scala robes to change shape. While slogging along, I’ve considered making them form snow shoes but a) I’m not sure that’ll work on mud and b) if any locals take a picture, that’ll definitely end up on Good Morning, Purgatory. Sure, the area looks deserted, but you never know.

  Sucky-slurpy it is.

  There’s good news though. This mud march won’t last much longer. I’ve almost reached my destination: a deserted grain bin at the field’s center. This particular structure is a two-story affair that’s made of corrugated metal. Overall, it reminds me of an empty tin can with a funnel-shaped top.

  And it’s never housed any grain.

  Here’s the deal. When Armageddon invaded Purgatory, I drove the King of Hell out with my igni. Go me. Expelling Armageddon was one thing, but getting rid of his demon army proved trickier. Those creeps found a ton of hidey holes and refused to vamoose. Not that I blame them. If I had to choose between Purgatory and Hell, I know where I’d set up camp.

  Even so, the remnants of Armageddon’s army couldn’t just hang out. No, they had to do crap like chew people’s faces off for fun. Not okay. Eventually, Mom put Dad in charge of a new Demonic Extermination League. About six months ago, my father constructed Pulpitum stations in key demon hot spots, like this one. Now thrax warriors can transport to trouble in within seconds, kill the big bads, and get home in time for … whatever thrax do for fun (there’s no television involved, so I’m still not sure.)

  I’m also unsure how this backside of nowhere farm country became a demonic danger zone, especially one serious enough to warrant Dad putting up a Pulpitum. But it did. Yet another reason to sneak back and check on those Enmity boys.

  Stepping closer to the massive grain bin, I pause by the only door and pull on the handle. High-pitched metallic squeaks fill the air. The door swings open. Rows of cobwebs drift down from the threshold, reminding me of ghostly arms that reach for my throat. I shiver.

  Wait a second.

  Ghostly arms, cobwebs, and shivering?

  All this stuff with Walker has me bummed out and wimpy. I’m Myla Lewis, and I can walk inside a creepy grain bin like a bitch.

  So that’s what I do.

  Lifting my chin, I march inside the darkened space. Tin lanterns line the circular walls. The moment the door closes, those lamps come to life with angel fire.

&nb
sp; I let out a shaky breath. This is good. The Pulpitum recognizes that I’m part archangel. I quickly scan the space for Lincoln. It’s a long shot, but maybe he transported here and is just, you know, sitting alone in the dark for some reason.

  Okay, I’m girl enough to admit when I’m being needy. I just lost my honorary brother, so I’m brainstorming crackpot scenarios where my husband waits for me in the dark. Fine. Color me clingy. I’ll own that like a boss.

  Even so, it all circles back to one fact. My guy isn’t here. Bleugh, part two.

  In the center of the ground sits a round metal platform. Once I announce myself aloud, that platform will activate. Afterward, I name my destination and the Pulpitum disc will speed me away. Taking in a deep breath, I speak the particular phrase to start the process.

  “This is Myla Lew—”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The corrugated walls shake. Pounding sounds on the conical roof. The noise is so fierce, it reverberates through my chest. I suck in a shaky breath.

  Silence follows.

  “Hello?” I ask. “Is someone up there?”

  More silence.

  I tap my cheek and contemplate. Maybe some kind of animal caused the noise. Crazed baby goats could be leaping onto the roof. This space is really echo-y. That might explain everything.

  On second thought, probably not.

  Somebody’s up there.

  Knowing my life, it’s someone awful.

  Well, whoever’s causing the ruckus, I’ve already had it with this day in general and this section of Purgatory in particular. My plan: activate this Pulpitum and haul my ass to a little place I like to call not here.

  I take in another deep breath. “This is Myla Lewis, requesting the activa—”

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  This time, the ear-splitting pounding is followed by the screech of metal being torn apart. One moment, I’m standing in a darkened grain bin. The next second, the grain bin has a new skylight created by whoever’s taken up residence on the roof. A figure leaps down through the new opening and lands before me. The scent of charcoal becomes overwhelming.

  The good news is that the stranger is an angel.

  The bad news is that she appears to be made from molten-freaking-lava. She’s over six feet tall with long hair, even features, and medieval body armor. Really, she’s your standard issue angelic warrior except for the full-on lava thing. Plus, based on the way she’s fingering the hilt of her sword? She’s not here to swap hair care tips or gossip about which lava angel guys are the hottest.

  “I am Inferno,” says lava angel chickie. “You may know me as the Champion of Lucifer’s Brimstone Legion.”

  Now, only your top-notch big bads announce themselves and their titles. Since it looks like I’m not leaving any time soon, I might as well make the best of things and kick this chick’s ass.

  “Never heard of you,” I say. “But you serve Lucifer, eh? How’s that working out? Last I heard, the guy’s in prison.”

  “You know nothing,” snarls Inferno. “Lucifer is the father to all righteous warriors.”

  “Huh.” A semi-wicked smile rounds my mouth. “Guess what? I’m Myla Lewis, the Great Scala and Queen of the Thrax. My father is none other than the archangel Xavier. Which means…” I tap my cheek dramatically. “My dad beat up your dad.”

  Inferno’s entire body flares more brightly. Based on how she’s also gritting her teeth, I guess I hit a nerve.

  “Xavier is a liar,” grumbles Inferno. “Lucifer is everything.”

  Growing up in Purgatory, I know one thing. We do not have lava angels flying around. Nuh-uh. My guess is that this chick’s existence is related to none other than the Viper and his use of Lucifer’s Gauntlets. There’s one way to find out.

  Lie my ass off.

  “Congratulations!” I give her a golfer’s clap. “I heard about the Viper getting Lucifer’s Gauntlets.”

  Inferno purses her lips. “And?” The way she says that single word, it’s clear that she really means: and what else do you know?

  So I make more shit up.

  “And then the Viper used Lucifer’s Gauntlets to, uh, enhance you because you were, uh, dead as a doornail. Looking good, angel girl!”

  Setting my fist on my hip, I do my best to look totally confident. Inside my soul is churning with the same question over and over.

  Am I right? Am I right? Am I right?

  “Indeed, I am thrilled to have life again thanks to the gauntlets.”

  Ha. Nailed it. She was totally dead and the gauntlets brought her back.

  Inferno tosses her lava hair like she’s in a shampoo commercial. “I shall use my powers to free Lucifer.”

  Now the idea of freeing Lucifer is no picnic, but I’ll focus on that later. I’m getting valuable intel now.

  “How about them gauntlets, eh? They are so good for, you know, grabbing magic, am I right? So interesting how that grabby stuff actually works. Like you put the magic in the container and it’s in there. And then you put it in someone else and it’s also in there. Personally, I like to keep a list of do’s and don’ts. What are your favorites?”

  Aaaaaaaand my cool-ass interrogation goes way off the rails. Will Inferno notice?

  But Inferno doesn’t catch on at all. In fact, I don’t think she notices that I’m speaking anymore. Instead, her gaze is locked on my watch from Walker. Not liking the hungry gleam in her molten eyes.

  “I know who gave you that device on your wrist,” snarls Inferno. “It was Walker the ghoul. Renounce him and be cleansed.”

  I mock-sniff at my armpit. “Cleansed?”

  “You will give me that device, of course.”

  “Oooooooooh, by cleansing you mean you want my waaaaaaaatch?” I make to take it off and then stop. “That would be no. And fuck you.”

  “Last chance, Mother Scala.” The way she says Mother Scala, it’s like I’m poo on her molten shoe.

  “I’ll give you one last chance. Leave through the door and live. How’s that for a deal?” Closing my eyes, I command the threads of my Scala robes to change into white body armor, complete with heavy boots.

  Automatically changing into battle gear? Total job perk.

  With my transformation complete, I focus on Inferno once more. “If this is you leaving, you suck at it.”

  “How dare you dismiss me? I came in good faith to issue a warning. Cut all ties to Walker. He is ours to hurt again.”

  Protective energy surges up my spine. “What do you mean, again?”

  “Walker was attacked by the Viper, many times.” Inferno smiles. Even her teeth glow molten red. “I serve the Viper. Once I am through with you, I shall find that ghoul and finish him off. Slowly.”

  “No one hurts my Walker.” Inside my soul, my inner wrath demon awakens and damn, she is one pissed off entity. Energy and magic flow through my limbs, preparing me for battle. When I next speak to Inferno, I lower my voice to a tone I like to call major menace. “Oh, you’re so going down. I don’t care if you are a molten lava angel freak show.” I crook my finger at her. “Come on. Make the first move.”

  Inferno unsheathes her sword, which also glows with molten flame. “As you command, Scala Mother.”

  She leaps for me and I smile.

  This one’s for Walker.

  Chapter 8

  Inferno lunges for me, her sword held high. There’s a moment where the world seems to pause as my mind switches into what I call battle mode. Quick as lightning, I calculate possible attack trajectories and counter moves. I’ve never fought a lava angel before, so there’s more guessing than usual. Who knows what this babe can do?

  Inferno’s sword glows red as she slices toward my neck. Although things are moving at normal speed, battle mode changes my perceptions. My heartbeat, Inferno’s blade, or even the dust motes in the air … it all slows.

  Inferno’s blade gets closer.

  Closer.

  Soon it’s so near, the weapon warms my throat.

 
Time to act.

  Channeling my demonic energy, I crouch down low. To a regular mortal, my motions would be too fast to follow. Let’s hope the same is true for lava angels as well.

  Sure enough, Inferno’s blade swoops harmlessly over my head.

  Ha!

  Without my neck to stop her momentum, Inferno twists her torso away from me. Big mistake. Pumping more demonic energy through my legs, I kick up into a high somersault. Since it’s covered in dragonscales, my tail is already magma-friendly. While I spin over Inferno’s head, my tail grabs her sword.

  I land behind Inferno, who now whips around to face me. It’s true that I just avoided being beheaded (go me!) but I’m now trapped in a not so great battle position. My back is to the wall while my gaze stays locked on Inferno. If I’m lucky, the door will be right behind me.

  I’m not lucky. The only exit stands halfway across the room.

  My mind races through battle options. I still have my baculum, but there isn’t enough room for anything but a short sword or a dagger. Not a great choice. When it comes to hand-to-hand combat, Inferno has the advantage, what with her size and molten-ness. At least my tail swiped her sword.

  Which gives me an idea.

  “You’re mine,” growls Inferno.

  I make a kissy face. “But we haven’t even gone out to dinner.” In my mind, I say something else.

  Tail, do your thing.

  At my command, my tail lifts Inferno’s sword behind me. With a series of strategic slices, it cuts right through the metal wall. The steel crumples like tissue paper. I kick back with my left boot.

  Slam!

  Behind me, a large metal panel tumbles down, landing on the ground outside.

  Helloooooo, exit.

  Inferno scans my new door hole, frowns, and raises her fists. Up close, it’s clear that Inferno’s gauntlets are studded with small metal spikes. All of them are molten-red.

  Yowch.

  Crouching low, Inferno slowly sweeps her leg forward, trying to knock me over.

  I don’t think so.

  Using my supernatural speed, I flip backward into an aerial. The motion sends me spinning out through my new door hole. A heartbeat later, I land just outside the grain bin. From my peripheral vision, I can tell that nothing’s changed since I first arrived. Despite Inferno’s arrival, the place is still deserted.