The Dark Lands (Angelbound Origins Book 5) Page 8

  “My guess is Lady Snead,” whispers my guy. “She’s from House Victoriana and currently works in Transfer Central.” The way Lincoln says the word currently, I suspect Lady Snead needs to shine up her resume.

  “Is Pulpitum VII your destination?” asks Juliana.

  “No, it’s a different station,” says Lincoln. “This is Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, launching audible override. Show last destination.”

  “Oh, that did it,” says Juliana brightly. “Now the console reads … this can’t be right. Unknown – the Dark Lands. That’s not an official transfer station.”

  My heart lightens. “It’s where we want to go.”

  “Are you certain?” asks Juliana. “Maybe we should wait for Lucas.”

  “Myla and I will depart now for the Dark Lands,” orders Lincoln. “Have you set the destination into the console?”

  Additional clicking noises sound as Juliana does whatever it is they do in Transfer Central. Nervous energy zings through my limbs. How I hate waiting for the battle to start. Or the food to cook. Or anything, really.

  “How’s it going out there?” I ask.

  “Ready,” announces Juliana.

  “Thank you,” says Lincoln. “Initiating Pulpitum transfer in 3, 2, 1.”

  The platform lurches under our feet. Dark earth and mineral deposits speed past us as the round disc hurtles through the ground. Maybe it’s just me, but the transfer seems to take way longer than usual. I start counting magma deposits as they speed by, just to keep myself from screaming. Finally, the Pulpitum platform comes to a jarring halt.

  At this point, I know a few things for certain.

  We’re outside somewhere.

  Our surroundings are thick with fog.

  That’s it.

  A figure steps out of the mist: a young girl of about twelve. She wears an old fashioned, high-necked red dress with a bustle in back. Her ebony skin is flawless, and his dark hair is pinned back in a neat bun. She eyes me and Lincoln.

  “You’re not Walker,” she says simply.

  “No,” I state. “We’re friends of his.”

  The girl steps closer. Now I can see her mismatched eyes. Thrax.

  “And you hail from House of Victoriana,” states Lincoln.

  “I’m Happy. Before you ask, that’s my real name.”

  “Well, I’m Myla. This is Lincoln.”

  “Knew that already,” replies Happy.

  My tail waves to the girl over my shoulder. I pat the arrowhead end. “Agreed. I like her, too.”

  Happy goes on tiptoe to scan the mists behind us. “Is Walker with you? He was supposed to meet me here hours ago.”

  “We don’t know where Walker is,” says Lincoln. “We were hoping you knew.”

  “This is bad.” Happy shakes her head. “Less than a day remains in the countdown.”

  “You know about that?” I ask.

  “I know a lot of things,” says Happy. She scans us carefully once more. “Question is, should I send you packing?”

  “We’re your king and queen,” states Lincoln.

  I raise my hand. “Also the Great Scala.”

  Happy shrugs. “That does nothing for you here.” Her forehead crumples as she considers things. “Oh, well. There’s nothing to be done about it. You know Walker. Perhaps you can be some kind of help. I’ll lead you through the Whispers.”

  Say what? It’s like this girl is talking in code. “The Whispers?”

  “That’s where you are,” explains Happy. “This is a place that doesn’t exist on a map that’s long been forgotten. Victoriana built the Whispers and we keep its residents safe. I’ll show you.” Happy steps off into the mist, pauses, and then turns around. “Oh, if you see a molten lava angel? Stand back and let me handle it.”

  “You want to take on Inferno alone.” My mouth falls open with shock. “But you’re twelve and wearing a dress.”

  Happy folds her hands neatly at her waist. “I’m also the Chosen One of the Victoriana. Inferno should be afraid of me.”

  “Chosen One?” asks Lincoln.

  Glad I’m not the only person who’s lost here. I haven’t been exposed to thrax culture for very long. For all I know, every house has a Chosen One who runs around other realms in period costume. Thrax can be weird that way. For instance, someone from every house has to dress up like a sheath of wheat once a year to celebrate harvest. Why celebrate harvest when you live underground? Like I said, weird.

  “Well, now you know,” says Happy. “Once a generation, someone like me is born to our house. And when I’m in the Dark Lands? I have powers you can’t imagine.” Her mismatched eyes glow, one red and one blue.

  I must admit it. That’s a cool trick right there. Plus, Lucas had mentioned that the Victoriana had some unique magic related to the Dark Lands. Things are looking up. With any luck, Happy’s secret ability is tracking down lost ghouls.

  “Stay close,” orders Happy. “We’re heading for Black Wing Manor.” She marches off into the mist.

  “You think she’s legit?” I ask Lincoln.

  “I do,” he replies. “You don’t get that kind of sass without serious power to back it up.” My tail rises over my shoulder to lean toward Lincoln, the arrowhead end balled into a fist shape. Lincoln bumps my tail’s makeshift ‘fist’ with his real one.

  Those two.

  I roll my eyes. My tail and Lincoln have their own mutual appreciation society. I suppose it’s better than hating each other.

  “Come along now!” calls Happy from the mist. “If you get lost, I am not running after your royalness.”

  “See what I mean?” asks Lincoln. “Serious power. Serious sass.”

  “I heard that!” calls Happy. “And you’re damned right.”

  Lincoln and I share a smile. She even swears like me. I can’t wait to see what this girl can do.

  Maybe together, we’ll save Walker and Drayden.

  Chapter 13

  Lincoln and I follow Happy through the swirling mist. Although it’s not just mist. It’s some super heavy, Jack The Ripper stalks you at night style haze. Here and there, a bare tree branch becomes visible. That’s all. Mostly, my mind imagines shapes in the haze. Or to be accurate, I only see one shape over and over: Walker screaming in pain. Not gonna lie. Thinking about Walker makes my blood pressure spike and fills my head with questions.

  And what’s happening to Walker right now?

  Can we save Drayden in time?

  Are they both howling in agony somewhere?

  At last, the mist lessens. A massive, all-black mansion appears in the distance. If I thought my parents’ place was serious Goth, their house has nothing on this monstrosity. I swear, even Dracula and Frankenstein would be like, whoa that’s over the top. The thing is all turrets, big shutters, and little windows with arches over them. Also, the roof is super-pointy and topped with what look like metal curlicues. A tall and intricate iron fence encircles the grounds.

  Seeing the house sparks a memory. I turn to Lincoln. “I saw this place on Walker’s watch. The iron gate is the same and everything.”

  “Good. Walker must have wanted us to come here.”

  Up ahead, Happy stops. The movement reminds me of what happens when a wild animal smells a predator on the air. Happy freezes mid-step, all her senses on alert.

  Lincoln and I pause as well. My pulse slows. Inside my soul, my inner wrath demon awakens. She senses danger and relishes the chance for battle. Lincoln and I pull our baculum from their holsters. No point igniting them yet. The mist provides nice cover and angel fire would be a kill me here sign to any enemies.

  Happy does that thing where she remains perfectly still but talks from one side of her mouth. “Listen to me carefully. Run past the gate. Once you’re on the manor grounds, magic will protect you. She is near.”

  The scent of charcoal fills the air. No question who she is in this scenario.

  Inferno.

  “We’re not leaving you,” I say.

  “
Suit yourself.” Happy rubs her palms together in a slow and purposeful rhythm. I’ve seen that move before with Lucas.

  She’s preparing to cast a spell.

  My tail arches over my shoulder, ready to strike. I scan through everything I know about Inferno. This is not your typical angel. If anything, Inferno operates more like a Limus demon. Those guys are all stretchy goop and attitude. To kill them, you can’t just stab them. Nope. Only way to off a Limus demon is to set it on fire and they’re D-E-A-D. Inferno must have a weakness like that. But what is it?

  A memory returns. When I broke out of the grain bin, my tail had been holding Inferno’s sword. Something about that weapon changed, only I couldn’t see what had happened. My instincts tell me that’s the key to Inferno.

  Transformation.

  The scent of charcoal grows stronger. The air shifts around us. Small red lights dance far above our heads. Inferno is far away now, flying through the heavy clouds. That won’t last long. Demonic energy pulses through my limbs, preparing me for battle.

  A moment later, Inferno’s great molten wings appear above us. Lines of light and fire shift along her feathers. Heat rolls off her lava body. Inferno lands a few yards away from Happy.

  One good thing about this mist: Inferno still hasn’t spotted me and Lincoln yet.

  Inferno rounds on Happy. “Where is Walker?”

  Happy keeps rubbing her palms. If a six-foot tall magma angel bothers her, the girl doesn’t show it. Impressive. Her mismatched eyes glow, one red, one blue. “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

  Now, Happy may not be worried about Inferno, but that lava angel scares the crap out of me. I’ve seen fully-grown warriors die in battle due to overconfidence. No way am I taking chances with a twelve-year-old girl.

  Lincoln’s thinking the same thing. He ignites his baculum into a long sword. “Happy needs some back up.”

  “Agreed.” I ignite my own baculum into a pair of short swords.

  With our weapons ready, Lincoln and I step into the gap between Inferno and Happy.

  “Leave this place,” I command. “Now.”

  “Mother Scala.” Inferno eyes me like I’m a three-headed alien that sprouted out of the ground. “Why haven’t you abandoned Walker?”

  I frown. “How are we having this conversation again? Walker is my friend.” I’d roll my eyes but I can’t take my focus off an opponent mid-battle. “What, do I have to get a tattoo on my forehead for you to believe me? I. Like. Walker.”

  Sheesh, what a ghoul hater.

  Lincoln scans Inferno’s face carefully. A new kind of light shines in my guy’s eyes. I know that look; it’s the one Lincoln gets when we’re playing chess and he’s figured out how to take down my king in three moves or less.

  “Why do you care what happens to Myla?” asks Lincoln slowly.

  Huh. Good question.

  “I don’t,” replies Inferno. “My commander desires her to understand that ghouls are evil.”

  Lincoln’s gaze turns more intense. “And who is your commander?”

  Emotions shift across Inferno’s face. There’s shock, worry, and finally, rage. “Lucifer,” she answers at last.

  Not sure I believe her. Inferno took way too long to answer. Plus, there are way too many evil players at work in the after-realms who could benefit from someone like Inferno flying around. Sure, the Viper is top of the list, but what about Armageddon? He’s always scheming. Plus, I wouldn’t even put it past the House of Victoriana to be playing both sides of this somehow.

  There’s no extra time to contemplate. Inferno leaps into the air, her wings beating in a steady rhythm as she speeds toward Happy. My throat tightens with worry.

  Happy pulls her hands apart. Small lightning bolts crackle between her palms. Her mismatched eyes stay locked on Inferno. “Get over here already. Let me touch you and this will all be over with.”

  So, Happy’s power is touch. Battle mode kicks in as I scan through this new intel. A ton of touch spells can help in battle. Which one can Happy wield? It may change our plan of attack.

  Inferno hovers just above Happy. Grinning, Inferno grips the hilt of her sword, holding the weapon as one would a spear. With Inferno chucking stuff from the sky, that takes away Happy’s touch advantage. Yipes.

  “Now I shall touch you,” snarls Inferno. “With my blade.”

  Those words pull the plug on Happy’s sass. The girl’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she whispers. “Damn.”

  The battle just turned, and things aren’t looking good for Happy.

  I focus on Lincoln. “Assault Plan Delta?”

  This is thrax field code. Assault Plan Delta means we’ll both attack Inferno by turning our baculum into nets made of angel fire.

  Lincoln extinguishes his baculum. “Add in a SuperMyla and it’s perfect.”

  Here’s what Lincoln’s comment is all about. Purgatory only gets old black and white movies; Superman’s one of them. After hours of repetitive viewing, I still don’t have an answer to a simple question: how does Superman fly? In my case, my demonic energy helps me jump crazy high, but I soon hit earth again because REALITY. Superman has no means for defying gravity, let alone propulsion. So in all fairness, there should be no Superman but there should be SuperMyla. I must monologue on this topic a lot, because the other thrax on demon patrol ask me for a SuperMyla whenever I need to leap crazy-high.

  But I digress. Back to the battle.

  I shoot Lincoln my most winning smile. “SuperMyla it is.”

  Kneeling down, Lincoln laces his fingers together into a stirrup shape. I extinguish my baculum, holding a silver bar in each hand. Nearby, Inferno hovers relatively near the ground so she can throw her sword and skewer Happy.

  Pulling demonic energy into my limbs, I step onto Lincoln’s threaded fingers. As my guy stands, he helps propel me into the air. Combine that with my demonic strength and I end up a few yards above Inferno.

  “Net!” I call.

  “Net,” echoes Lincoln.

  A net of white angel fire weaves between the baculum in my hands. The same happens to Lincoln’s baculum below. My guy snaps his wrists and his baculum net flicks up into the air. Then the top of his angel fire creation meets the bottom of mine.

  Perfect.

  Rolling forward into a somersault, I swoop through the air. My goal? To land on the opposite side of Inferno. We’ve now created a massive net made of blazing angel fire. As we saw with Lincoln before, Inferno’s body can’t withstand this stuff.

  Let’s see how she likes being shredded.

  As my boots slam onto the ground, our joint angel fire net slices through Inferno, cutting her into hundreds of tiny pieces. The Inferno bits cascade to the earth, reminding me of tiny molten comets. The black grass sizzles with each impact.

  “Retract,” orders Lincoln. His net disappears. I order my net to do the same and then watch the many pieces of Inferno. Shredding someone is more than a little creepy, but if it gets rid of this big bad permanently? I’m calling it a win.

  Happy moves to stand beside me. Her dainty hand grips my lower arm. “Do you think you killed her for good?”

  “Give it a second,” I say.

  Sadly, the many parts of inferno turn gooey and ooze toward each other. “Hells bells,” I groan. “No, she’ll recover.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” announces Lincoln. “To the manor!”

  As Inferno reforms, we all race toward the gate that encircles Black Wing Manor. The fence itself is twelve feet tall and solid iron. A large archway marks the entrance. It’s getting late, so I can’t make out much of the detail on the gate itself.

  We all cross the threshold.

  A reformed Inferno speeds behind us, not noticing the gate. As Inferno tries to cross under the iron archway, her body slams into an invisible barrier. Bits of magma spark into the air. Inferno’s lava face tightens into a scowl.

  “Did the invisible barrier stop the big bad Inferno?” asks Happy.

  Couldn’t hav
e put it better myself.

  “We are coming,” Inferno declares. “All of us. The entire Brimstone Legion. We will break into the manor and set Lucifer free.” Her gaze locks on me. “Prepare to disavow your allegiance to lower beings, Mother Scala.”

  With that, it’s official. I now have a lava angel stalker. Not to mention confirmation that Lucifer is imprisoned here. Talk about bizarre.

  “Disavow lower beings.” Holding up my arm, I mime writing nothing into thin air. “Making a note of that.”

  Inferno growls, turns around, and flies off into the mist.

  Happy straightens her cuffs. Looks like that’s her default move when she needs to get her head together. “Let’s enter the manor, shall we?”

  “Ho, there,” I say. “What was your hand spell about?” I rub my palms together as a demonstration.

  Happy gives me a duh dace. “Uh, magic.”

  Lincoln steps in. “What Myla means is that the next time we go into battle, it’s best if we know what we’re dealing with.”

  I hitch my thumb toward my guy. “What he said.”

  Happy shifts her weight from foot to foot. “I can’t say.”

  Lincoln’s expert chess player face returns. “And why can’t you share that particular information?”

  “My powers. This mansion. All our secrets. It’s up to the magistrate to give permission to talk. Come on, I’ll introduce you to him.” She takes a few steps away and then pauses. “You’re not following?”

  I shrug. “There’s a whole lot of crazy in what you just said. I’m not stepping into a trap.”

  “What she said,” adds Lincoln.

  Happy hugs her elbows. “I honestly appreciate what you just did for me. If I could explain everything, I would. It’s clear you two are worried about Walker. So am I. If we want to help our friend, then we have to see the magistrate. Will you please see the magistrate with me?”

  Lincoln and I exchange a quick look. There really is only one answer to that question.

  “Yes,” says Lincoln.

  As we step toward the main door, I glance down at my new watch.

  Eighteen hours remain.