The Dark Lands (Angelbound Origins Book 5) Read online

  Whoever this magistrate is, I hope he has some answers.

  Chapter 14

  Lincoln, Happy, and I step along a gravel path toward Black Wing Manor. After hiking up a short flight of slate steps, we reach a massive wooden door. The knocker is bronze and formed into a raven’s head, complete with ruby eyes. Happy goes up on tiptoe and slams the metal down.

  Thud!

  A moment later, the door opens to reveal a young guy with mismatched eyes and white blonde hair. His features are uneven—small nose, big ears, that kind of thing—but it all works for him. Unlike most thrax, he wears modern stuff, namely skinny jeans and a loose sweater. He focuses on Happy. “There you are! I was so worried about you.”

  Two things about this guy. One, it’s good that Happy has someone who cares about her. The whole wandering in the mist thing had me worried. Two, although Happy’s name is, you know, Happy, she isn’t exactly Smiley Girl. Meanwhile, this dude is someone who radiates positive energy. He’s not traditionally handsome, but he’s still definitely attractive.

  The guy steps back to allow us all to enter. “Happy, where have you been?”

  “Waiting for Walker.” Happy hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I picked up these two.” She turns to me and Lincoln. “Guys, this is Jaime.”

  “Your Highnesses.” Jaime gasps.

  Lincoln and I step inside. Happy slams the door behind us. In the biggest non-surprise of the day, the manor’s interior is as black and foreboding as the outside. Everything is dark wood and carved in a pattern of ravens.

  Edgar Allen Poe, manor for one.

  “I didn’t know royalty was visiting.” Jaime glares at Happy. “No one told me.”

  “That’s a pattern with Victoriana,” deadpans Lincoln.

  If I know my husband—and I do—then he’s already planning how to add Black Wing Manor and the Whispers into about a hundred maps and reviews. My guy is not a fan of undocumented stuff.

  Happy holds up her hands in the universal sign for it wasn’t me. “I didn’t know they were on their way.”

  “So, now we have guests and a lava angel problem.” Jaime shudders. “Tell me Inferno didn’t find you.”

  “Oh, Inferno found me all right.” Happy gestures toward me and Lincoln again. “And these two sliced her up into little Inferno nuggets.”

  At this point, my head turns a little fuzzy. It’s been a big day and somehow, Lincoln and I ended up in a Gothic house with a few mystery thrax. Not to mention their so-called magistrate, whoever that is.

  I clear my throat. “Hey, guys. What if we start off with some introductions?” I need a little grounding, and some standard social routines could be a good start.

  Jaime straightens his stance. “Of course, Your Highness. I am Jaime Victenus Aeyre of the House of Victoriana, Keeper of the Chosen One.”

  Happy cups her hand by her mouth. “He’s my manny.”

  “Manny?” I ask.

  “Man plus nanny. Manny. My parents insisted I have one.” Happy fluffs the lace by her neckline. “I can take care of myself just fine, though.”

  “Not true.” Jaime lifts his chin. “I’m also here to teach you, young lady. Social skills are a particular sore point.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Social skills? No way. She’s a lot like me. Don’t change a thing.”

  Happy actually smiles. “Did you hear that? The queen says I shouldn’t change. Nyah.”

  Lincoln shakes his head. “Wow. She even does the nyah thing.”

  “Right?” I ask. “No one says nyah except for me.”

  “What?” Happy shrugs. “Nyah nyah nyah NYAH nyah. It’s totally a useful form of communication.”

  Here it is. Another beautiful moment where I can appreciate something—in this case, Happy’s sarcasm—despite the fact that the world is falling apart. Mom would be proud.

  A booming male voice echoes through the reception hall. “Who dares enter my mansion?”

  Aaaaaaaand the moment is over.

  Jaime pales. “Oh, no. The magistrate.”

  Guess ‘social rituals grounding time’ is over. Oh well.

  I shoot Jaime a thumbs-up. “Let’s meet him. Anything to get us closer to finding Drayden and Walker.”

  “I forgot about Walker.” Jaime turns to Happy. “How did your meeting go?”

  “It didn’t.” Happy kicks at the floor with her heeled boot. “Walker never showed.”

  Lincoln takes my hand in his. “All the more reason for us to meet this magistrate of yours. We need information in order to find Walker.”

  “Bring them to me!” booms the voice once again.

  “You’re right,” says Jaime. “We better go. The magistrate is this way.” The thrax picks up a candelabra from somewhere because, of course this place has hand-held candelabras lying around. With his spooky lighting device in hand, Jaime marches off down a nearby passage. Lincoln, Happy, and I follow Jaime through a series of gloomy corridors. There are a lot of shadows, cobwebs, and dark wood carved with raven heads.

  Sheesh. And I thought my parents’ place was a downer.

  “What can you tell us about this magistrate?” asks Lincoln.

  Happy mimes zipping her mouth shut and tossing away the key.

  “So nothing,” says Lincoln. There’s no missing the smile in his voice, though. My guy does appreciate sass in all its forms.

  I’m not worried. Jaime is the more blabby of the two anyway. “How about you, Jaime?” I ask. “What can you tell us about the magistrate?”

  “His name is Obsidian Kildare.” Jaime says the same Obsidian Kildare the same way I might say freshly baked brownie. “And his official title is Magistrate of the Whispers and Black Wing Manor.”

  “We better pick up the pace,” warns Happy. “The magistrate’s already asked for you twice. We don’t want him to lose his temper.”

  “So true,” says Jaime. “You don’t want Obsidian—I mean, the magistrate—to become angry. The magistrate is far more powerful than Happy.” Jaime pauses before a set of wooden doors. Like the rest of the house, these are also huge, black, and carved up with ravens.

  Happy eyes the closed doors. “You better go in first, Jaime. He’s always nicer when he sees you.”

  A slight blush colors Jaime’s cheeks. “Do you really think so?”

  Happy rolls her eyes. “I only tell you about a hundreds times a day.”

  Jaime hangs his head. “I’m not so sure.”

  I raise my hand. “Guys? This is really cute, but open the freaking door already.”

  “My bad,” gushes Jaime. “Obsidian gets me distracted.” Jaime pulls open the door and steps inside yet another darkened room. Surprise, surprise.

  Lincoln shoots me a questioning look. Should we go inside right now?

  I tilt my head, considering. On one hand, this Obsidian guy has a short temper (as well as a limited design sense, considering how he slaps black paint and birds everywhere.) If we stroll in before Jaime can work his magic, the magistrate may be grouchy. On the other hand, WALKER. DRAYDEN. We’re on a time schedule to save them both.

  My tail seems to agree, since the arrowhead-shaped end starts pointing to the room’s interior.

  I point toward the opened doorway. Let’s go in.

  Sure, it may be a risk, but it could also save Walker and Drayden.

  Chapter 15

  Lincoln and I step inside a massive drawing room. Vaulted wooden ceilings arch above us. A threadbare red carpet lines the floor. The rest of the space is filled with a variety of high-back chairs, benches, and small tables, all of which are carved into the likenesses of ravens. One wall is filled with a fireplace that’s framed by even more ravens, only this time the likenesses are stacked up, totem-style. A long bench sits before the fireplace; it’s where the only other figure in the room is seated.

  Obsidian Kildare.

  He’s tall and lean, with skin so pale it almost seems to glow. I’d guess his age at somewhere around thirty. Obsidian
wears black body armor, which seems an odd choice for sitting before a fireplace, but who am I to judge? His long dark hair is pulled back with a scrap of leather. Even from a distance, it’s clear this guy has even features and sharp bone structure.

  Honestly? I can see why Jaime’s crushing on Obsidian, even if the magistrate does shout orders like a bully. He’s got that ‘powerful but angsty warrior’ thing going.

  Lincoln, Happy and I hang out just inside the doorway. Jaime strides over to Obsidian’s bench. “Good evening.” Even though the whole place is gloomsville, Jaime manages to give a genuine smile.

  Obsidian flicks his eyes a fraction, but it’s enough for his gaze to meet Jaime’s. A long pause follows where there’s a lot of staring and no talking. Not gonna lie. It’s starting to get awkward here. And let’s not forget the time crunch to save Walker and Drayden.

  At last, Obsidian breaks eye contact. “Greetings,” says the magistrate. “Are you well, my friend?”

  Jaime’s blush deepens. “I’m fine.”

  “I detected strangers in my house.”

  Happy was right to suggest Jaime enter the room first. The bellowing magistrate from a few minutes ago is now Mister Nice Guy.

  “The King and Queen of the Thrax are here,” explains Jaime. “They’re friends of Walker’s.”

  That’s our cue. Lincoln and I step deeper into the room. Obsidian watches our every move intensely. As we get nearer, I get a better view of the magistrate. He’s one of those dudes with a young appearance and ancient eyes. In other words, there’s magic at work here. Obsidian could be any old age, really.

  Lincoln and I pause by the fireplace. My husband speaks first. “I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, King of the Thrax and Consort to the Great Scala.”

  This isn’t our first formal introduction. No question what my line is here. “I’m Myla Lewis, Great Scala and Queen of the Thrax.”

  “And why are you both here?” asks Obsidian. For the first time, I notice how Obsidian holds a tall wooden rod in his right hand. Firelight dances across the carving atop the staff: a raven’s head with ruby eyes.

  “It’s like Jaime told you,” I say. “We’re friends of Walker.”

  Happy steps closer. “Walker never met me today.”

  At those words, Obsidian starts bellowing again. “What? How can that be? We’re almost out of time!” He stomps his staff against the ground, one slam for every word he next speaks. “Where is Walker?”

  “Hey, noisy.” I mock-cover my ears. “We’re looking for him too, all right? That’s why we’re here. By any chance, is the time you’re running out of add up to …” I check my watch “… eighteen hours, twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds?”

  Obsidian grips his staff so tightly, I’m surprised the wooden thing doesn’t snap. “How do you know this?”

  “As we said, Walker is our dear friend,” says Lincoln smoothly. “He gave us valuable information so we could help his brother Drayden. Now we’re searching for Walker as well. It seems we have some similar goals. Tell us what you know; we may be able to help you find Walker.”

  A low moan sounds through the air. It’s a man’s voice, deep and pained. Something about it cuts through my soul.

  “Who made that noise?” asks Lincoln.

  “Who indeed?” Obsidian shifts on his bench. “If you truly know Walker, then that question proves that he didn’t trust you. I can’t share our secrets with strangers and spies. Criminals have broken into Black Wing Manor. Liars. Thieves. Poisoners. I won’t have it!”

  Jaime steps closer to our side. “Queen Myla and King Lincoln aren’t evil spies. These are my sovereigns.”

  Obsidian scowls. “They rule over you? All the more reason to suspect your judgment regarding their true nature.”

  “They’re good people,” adds Jaime. “Everyone likes them.”

  Now, this whole situation is pretty nasty, but I must admit one thing. It’s nice to hear one of your subjects spontaneously say that you’re good people.

  Next Happy moves nearer to us. “Plus, Myla here is the daughter of the archangel Xavier. Lincoln’s descended from the archangel Aquila. Why don’t you cast a few spells? Check into their hearts? They’re truthful, kind, and they care deeply for Walker. Let’s be honest. Black Wing Manor has never faced so many problems before. Trespassers. Thieves. Poison. Inferno.”

  Obsidian doesn’t reply. Instead he keeps glaring into the crackling fireplace. I open my mouth, ready to interject, but Happy steps in first.

  “I’m here to protect and advise you,” she says. “We need help. Trust these two. That’s my advice.”

  My brows lift. Happy is here to protect Obsidian? My thoughts return to our last fight with Inferno. Happy was doing some kind of magic with her palms. Still need more specifics on what her powers might be. Something for later.

  Seconds tick by before Obsidian stomps his staff onto the ground again. SNAP! This time the noise is so loud, it makes me shiver. Using the staff as leverage, Obsidian stands to his full height and turns to face us. It’s a good thing this hall is huge, because something massive spreads out behind him.

  Three set of wings.

  Whoa.

  I thought my father had a huge wingspan, but he only has one set. This guy almost fills the space. And all three sets are lined with black feathers.

  “You’re a seraphim,” whispers Lincoln. “You have three sets of black wings.”

  Obsidian lifts his chin. “Yes.”

  I frown, trying to process this bit of news. The fact that Obsidian is a seraphim would explain a few things. Like why this place and its magistrate are not tracked on any map. Knowing they exist would burst the ‘whole seraphim are dead’ bubble. Plus, the fascination with black-winged birds comes into clearer focus. As well as why Happy volunteered our angelic lineage. Even so, I can’t get past what my father told me back in Purgatory.

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” I wince. “But I heard the seraphim were dead.”

  “We are. I am.” Obsidian shoots a glance at Jaime. Such pure longing shines in the seraphim’s blue eyes, it breaks my heart. “I’m the last of my kind. Without my brothers and sisters, I might as well have perished.”

  The low moan sounds once more. The pained voice makes me jump. Lincoln’s posture stiffens. Happy, Obsidian, and Jaime don’t so much as flinch, though. Clearly, this isn’t their first time hearing this particular misery. Yet another moan follows.

  “Should we do something about that?” I ask. “Last I checked, moaning is not a good thing.”

  At this point, I can’t ignore the possibility that the moaner in question is someone we know. My mind spins through ways to carefully raise the subject, but I’m not super at verbal fireworks. Best to just say it. “Have you imprisoned Walker or Drayden in here?”

  “Did I imprison Walker or Drayden?” asks Obsidian.

  Lincoln pulls his baculum from their holster. “That’s what the queen asked.”

  Obsidian exhales a sigh that’s just another way of saying: fuck my life. “No, I do not imprison anyone.” The seraphim glares at Lincoln’s baculum. “And do not attempt to face me in battle. You’ve no idea what I can do.”

  Not sure that’s a great answer from Obsidian, but based on the tension in the room? I think we all need a breather.

  Resting my hand on Lincoln’s arm, I guide him to reset his baculum. “Look,” I say. “My husband and I get that you need to check us out. So, why don’t you cast those spells like Happy suggested? Then we can talk some more.”

  Emotions flicker across Obsidian’s handsome face. Fear. Rage. Grief. His three sets of wings extend further out, then retract behind his back. “That is a wise course.”

  Happy rolls her eyes. The girl doesn’t say ‘duh’ but I can picture the word hanging in a thought bubble above her head.

  “Indeed, I shall cast some spells,” continues Obsidian. “In the meantime, the King and Queen may wait nearby. If all looks acceptable, I’ll call you back
here and share our little secret.” The way Obsidian says little secret, I can tell it’s a huge deal.

  “Excellent choice, magistrate.” Jaime brightens the room with another dazzling smile directed right at Obsidian. The seraphim meets the gaze for a fraction before looking away.

  Obsidian then glares at me and Lincoln. “Know this. If I deem you unworthy, you’ll never leave this manor again.”

  All of a sudden, a break sounds like a fabulous idea for me, too. I’ve officially had it with Obsidian for now. The dude is a lot of drama.

  “Thanks for the clarity, Obsidian.” I turn to Jaime. “Let’s get to the leaving this chamber part of the evening.”

  “Of course,” replies Jaime. “I’ll take you to a waiting room.”

  “Bring them back to me in an hour,” orders Obsidian.

  Jaime bows slightly at the waist. “Yes, magistrate.”

  I get that Obsidian is a big bad seraphim, but the attitude is a little over the top. My tail seems to agree. As we leave, my tail shoots Obsidian a modified version of a lewd hand gesture behind my back. It’s somewhat satisfying, but not as good as mouthing off directly.

  Too bad I need Obsidian in order to save Walker and Drayden. Otherwise, I’d sass off to him and how.

  Chapter 16

  Once we leave Obsidian, Jaime leads us on a long walk through more dark passageways. We hike a few wide, winding staircases. What Black Wing Manor lacks in terms of design diversity, it certainly makes up for in space. In other words, this place is a big-ass mansion decorated with a shit-ton of ravens.

  Jaime leads us to a sparse room. A few simple wooden chairs line the walls. There’s one window—that’s too small to sneak out of—and which is covered in black glass. And yes, everything in here is made from dark wood. At least there are no raven carvings. Bonus.

  Jaime makes his goodbyes and shuts the door. The moment Lincoln and I are alone, something vibrates against my chest. I gasp. Did someone hit me with a spell? Then I remember it.

  My phone from Cissy.

  My dragonscale fighting suit doesn’t have pockets (total design flaw but I love the outfit anyway.) Cissy gave me this clippy necklace to hold my new phone under the suit. Now that device is shimmying against my rib cage. Pulling out the phone, I flip it open and see XAV AND CAM written on the little screen. I push the very-easy-to-understand call button.