Angelbound (18 page)

I wave my arms. “Hello, there!”

The girl stops, eyeing me from head to toe. “Are you lost too? I’ve lived here for months and I still can’t find my way around. This place is huge.”

I step closer. “Yes, I’m lost. Kind of.”

She grins. “Forgive my bad manners.” She curtsies. “I’m Lady Avery. Who are you?” She blinks her large eyes, one green and one brown.

“I’m Myla.” I stare at her for a moment. “You look familiar.”

“I’m the younger sister of the Great Scala Heir.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” I flash my most winning smile. “I’m looking for Prince Lincoln. I have an important message for him.”

She shifts her weight onto her right leg. “He’s at a thrax-only event. You’re not supposed to go unless you’re invited.” She scans my black fighting suit. “And unless you’re wearing proper dress.”

“Of course, I was invited to today’s…” I look at her encouragingly.

“Battle practice with the young Lords?”

Not a bright one, that Avery.

“Exactly. That’s totally what I was invited to. And I got an official exception for the dress thing.”

Avery frowns. “I’ve never heard of an official exception.”

“I have a skin condition. This suit was, uh, prescribed by my doctor.” I hold out my hand. “You should stand back. It’s kind of contagious.”

“Oh, my!”

“Where’s the practice again?”

“That way.” She points to a rocky hill across from the tall pines. “I’m heading there myself. Now that my sister’s the Scala Heir, I’m the Great Lady for the House of Acca.” She beams and tosses her hair. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

I plaster my smile back on. “It sure is.” I take off at a run. “I’ll see you there!”

“Okay. Goodbye, Myla!”

I speed up the rocky incline, my heart thudding with anticipation. I summit the small hill and scope out the ground below. A flat patch of green field opens before me. Lincoln stands in its center, surrounded by four men in velvet tunics of bronze, yellow, purple, and blue. They all look in their late teens. The Queen waits on the sidelines, motionless and regal in her black velvet gown. The Great Ladies encircle her, still wearing their multi-colored dresses from the initiation. Adair has changed into a simple white robe.

In the center of the field, Lincoln flips a wooden practice sword in his hand. Raising his arm high, he demonstrates a slicing technique to the young Lords. Everyone’s attention is focused on the lesson. I picture what’ll happen once I introduce myself. My mouth winds into a semi-evil grin.

Now’s my chance.

I stride down the rocky hill and raise my arm high. “Hello, there! I have a message for the–”

The Acca Lord shakes his blonde head. “A demon! I shall protect you, my Prince!” He races toward me, arms outstretched.

I watch my opponent, shaking my head in disbelief. This is his total plan? Run
up and grab me? That’s way too easy. I wait until he’s close, then leap up into the air and kick my heels forward. My boots connect with his chest. The Acca Lord tumbles onto his ass, gasping for breath. I somersault backwards, land on my feet and keep walking.

My grin stretches even wider. I love that move.

I keep a steady stride toward Lincoln, scanning the field as I go. The Queen and ladies stand immobile and stunned on the sidelines. The three remaining Lords bob on their heels, waiting for their turn to attack. Lincoln stares at me, his mismatched eyes filled with cool menace.

Good.

“Stop now, foul demon!” It’s the Horus Lord this time. His 250 pounds of solid muscle barrel straight for me.

I size up his approach. This one will be a little more interesting.

Once the Horus Lord is almost upon me, I bend over at the waist. My tail wraps around my attacker’s neck, spinning him 360 degrees. With a heavy thud, he lands back-first onto the field. A low groan fills the air.

I wince. Okay, that might be a concussion. Oops.

I resume my forward march. Lincoln’s only a few yards away now. Lord Kamal takes up the cry. At least he has the sense to grab a wooden sword.

Weapons. That mixes it up.

I stop, set my weight on my right leg and cross my arms over my chest. Kamal races up to me, his sword raised high above his head.

“Die, you demon sc–”

My tail punches him in the gut. At least I think it was the gut. Eh, I wasn’t really paying close attention. Lord Kamal crouches into a fetal position and falls over onto the ground, moaning.

I step up to the Striga Lord. “Are you gonna try anything?”

The young Lord shakes his head vigorously, causing the purple beads in his hair to jingle. “No, your ladyship.”

“Good.”

I turn to Lincoln. His stance is rigid; his face is still as stone. Raising my hand, I unzip the top of my suit. Gasps sound from the Great Ladies. I can’t help but smile just a little bit. I slide the envelope out from under my suit and hand it over. The Prince grips the letter, his face unreadable.

“Message for you from the Ghoul Minister. It’s urgent.” I bow slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you
real warriors
to fight it out.” I walk away, and maybe I shake my hips a wee bit more than necessary.

As I cross the field, I scan the faces of the Great Ladies. All their mouths curl in unflattering looks of shock and disgust. Adair looks especially ugly. Sweet.

The Queen watches me too, but unlike the Great Ladies, a satisfied grin rounds her mouth. My tail waves goodbye to her. She nods slightly in return.

Avery appears at the top of the rocky hill. “I’m here, everyone!” She waves. “Did I miss anything?”

I shoot her a hearty thumbs-up. “Not much. Catch you later.”

Avery curtsies. “Goodbye, Myla. I hope your skin condition improves.”

“Oh, it has.” I feel tons better already.

I hike over the hill, finding Nightshade waiting for me by the nearest tent. She paws the ground with her front hoof in a move that says ‘let’s vamoose.’

“I’m ready to go, too.” I wind my fingers through her mane and haul myself onto her back. Nightshade gallops over the fields and hills. All too soon, we’re trotting down my street. Nightshade stops by my front door; I slide off her barrel.

“Thank you, Night.” She nuzzles into my neck. I brush her mane with my fingers and sigh. Nightshade is the best. “I’m so glad you found me, girl.”

She whinnies softly and takes off at a gallop.

When I walk through my front door, the house is quiet and empty. I roam the rooms until I find a note from Mom on the kitchen table. She’s running errands with Walker and won’t be home until late. I make myself a quick bite to eat and slip into bed, a peaceful smile on my face for the first time in recent memory. You don’t get many chances to kick ass like I did today. The only thing that could’ve made it better would be video.

***

Once I close my eyes, my dreams return me to the Gray Sea. I stand on a familiar stretch of dark sand beside a tall stonewall. Crouching low, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A circle of white fire erupts from the ground. From its center rises the form of my mother made from sand. She sits at a desk.

The earth continues to rise, the granules building into the shape of an office.

The circle of fire flares higher, then disappears. The moving sand transforms into flesh and blood. The scene before me comes to life.

Mom looks up from her desk. “Hello, Tim.” She runs her fingertips along the
neckline of her blue suit.

Tim’s gaze follows the movement of her fingers across her chest. “You should call me TIM-29.” His voice comes out a little husky.

I’m no lust expert, but it’s possible that Tim has a thing for my Mom. My stomach lurches. Could this guy be my father?

“I’ve been calling you Tim for six months now, that isn’t going to change.” She smiles. Her face looks animated, alive, and dazzling.

I scratch my neck, my head wagging from side to side. I still can’t believe this is the same person who conducts my Maternal Inquisition each morning.

Tim bows again. “As you wish, Senator.”

“For the hundredth time, call me Camilla.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, that wouldn’t be right, Senator.” He gingerly sets a cup of coffee onto her desktop.

“Thank you.”

Tim leans over Mom’s head and inhales deeply. He whispers one word: “Lavender.”

Hair-smelling? That confirms it. Tim definitely has a thing for Mom.

“What did you say?” She scribbles away on a pad.

“Nothing, Senator.” He takes a few quick steps backwards. “Xavier Cross is in the waiting room, again. He insists on seeing you.”

Mom sighs. “He has an appointment in a
month
.”

I’ve heard that sigh, many times. Whoever this guy is, he’s getting on Mom’s last nerve.

Tim grips his hands at his waist. “He wants to see you
today
.”

A rotary phone on the desk begins to ring. Mom sets her hand on the receiver and looks to Tim. “Please tell him to wait
one month
.” Tim nods and leaves the room.

Mom picks up her phone. “Senator Lewis speaking.” She swivels her chair so she faces the wall. “Yes, Ambassador. I understand the complaint.”

On the opposite side of the room, the door swings open. A man slides through. He’s tall and fit with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of milky cocoa. He adjusts the lapels of his gray suit.

Still facing the wall, Mom continues her phone call. “I understand the demand, but we cannot guarantee that a particular soul will go to Hell. I’ll certainly pass the request to Senator Myung.”

Damn, she’s not taking shizz from that caller. My brows arch. This is the same woman who now spends an hour to choose a frozen dinner from the freezer. I never imagined she could be so decisive.

The stranger walks around the room, studying the pictures lining the walls, his long arms clasped behind him. He moves with a calculated grace that I find oddly soothing.

Mom kicks at the base of the wall, her features cringing into her ‘exasperated face.’ She takes a deep breath. “Senator Myung holds the Afterlife Management seat, I head Other-Realm Diplomacy. As I’ve told you before, I have no formal say in this matter but I promise to make your request known.” She pauses, listening. “Excellent, goodbye.” She slams the receiver onto the phone. “Hells
bells! That’s the fourth time this week.” She twists about in her chair, seeing the stranger in her office for the first time.

Mom’s chocolate eyes narrow into slits. “And you are?”

The man reaches out his hand. “Xavier Cross.”

Mom doesn’t flinch. “You have an appointment in one month, Mister Cross. Tim should have stopped you.”

Xavier seats himself in a chair across from Mom’s desk. “It won’t take five minutes, I promise.” He smiles. His face is handsome with a square jaw and high cheekbones.

Mom stares at him, her lips pursed. “Five minutes.” She glances at her watch. “Go.”

I click my tongue. Nice move, Mom!

Xavier taps his knee with his pointer finger. “You’re new to the Senate, aren’t you?”

“My family’s held the Senate Diplomacy Seat for eight hundred years, but yes, I’ve served in this particular role for six months.”

“I saw your pictures on the walls. Annual Lewis family picnics.”

“Yes, we’re a close group. Four minutes.”

“And you have a ghoul assistant.” The look in his eyes says ‘and that’s the stupidest idea ever.’ My eyes flash with anger.
Leave my Mom alone.

Mom drums her fingers on the table, her face the picture of cool. “I drive connections across all the five realms: Heaven, Hell, Antrum, the Dark Lands, and Purgatory. Most of my staff are members of the Lewis family, but I’m
extending my team to other realms as well. Three minutes.”

“Do you trust that ghoul?”

A muscle twitches along Mom’s jaw. “Mister Cross, what exactly is this about?”

There’s something in her tone that’s protective of Tim, maybe even loving. My possible ghoul dad. Barf.

“I’ll tell you.” He leans back in his chair. “I am the lead angel Ambassador and you don’t seem to know who I am or why we need to meet. I wonder if you’re more suited to duties outside the Senate. Perhaps your interest lies closer to the ghouls?”

I let out a low whistle.
Now he’s asked for it.

Mom’s eyes flare red. “I take great exception to that, Mr. Cross.” She whips open a drawer, pulling out a heavy file. With a thwack, she sets it on her desktop. “I’ve been researching you.” She whips open the manila folder. “Xavier Cross, Lead Ambassador for the angels.” She points to a line on the sheet before her. “For some reason, no one seems to remember seeing your wings. Your race is listed as ‘unknown.’”

He shrugs. “I wonder often myself.”

“Whatever you are, you’ve been angel Ambassador to my government for three hundred years.” She eyes him with a wary look, and I have to agree, this guy seems a little sketchy. A protective urge coils up my spine.

Xavier gestures around the room. “I helped design this Senate building, in fact.” His eyes flash bright blue. “I know things about the quasi government you
couldn’t guess at.”

Correction: he seems a LOT sketchy.

“Obviously, you’ve more than your share of secrets.” Mom lifts a red sheet of paper from the file. “Here’s a summary of the grievances against you over the years.” She gives the paper a shake. “Using angelic influence seems to be your favorite way to get work done. That tactic is illegal in and will no longer be tolerated in this office.”

Xavier hitches his ankle onto his knee and smiles. “There’s never been a formal complaint. What’s the nature of the problem, exactly?”

Mom slams the paper into her folder. “Angelic influence. You know, mind control? When angels find the good in a mortal soul and use it to change their behavior.”

My brows pop up. Angelic influence? Who knew they could control minds?

Xavier makes a tsk-tsk noise. “Perhaps you’re thinking of dreamscaping. A handful of angels and demons have this gift. They can send visions to others’ dreams, sometimes even communicate with them in their sleep. You must be confused.”

Uh-oh. I’ve tried that ‘you’re confused’ line on Mom before. It only makes her angrier.