Angelbound (51 page)

Armageddon gestures to the broken figure. “Senator, may I present the archangel Xavier.”

All breath leaves my body. This is my father, the one who traded an eternity in Hell for my mother’s life.

Mom stares at the broken angel. Tears well in her eyes. She half-turns to my hiding place on the ridge, but catches herself before going too far. She stops, steels her shoulders and swings her attention back to Armageddon. “I fail to understand how your surprise relates to this hostile invasion, Armageddon.”

A chill crawls over me. My body freezes with shock. More lightning bolts fade from my hand.

Armageddon grins, showing a mouth of pointed teeth. “Ah, but you haven’t seen the best part yet.” He snaps his fingers again. The pair of flying monsters take to the air. Their talons sink into my father’s back and begin to heave.

Oh, my sweet evil. They’re pulling off his wings.

My gaze flicks to my father’s bearded face, contorted in pain. He grips his heavy chains, teeth gritted in agony. The lightning bolts around my hand die out.

Lincoln grips my shoulder. “What’s going on, Myla? The igni are gone.”

“That’s my father.”

The flying demons pull harder on my father’s wings. My body’s frozen with shock. My mind empties.

Armageddon rocks on his heels and laughs. His dark joy hits me like a punch to the gut. All breath leaves my body. My father’s been tortured while Armageddon laughs. Somehow that’s the most painful blow of all. A sob wells up in my throat.

Tears stream down Mom’s face. Cissy holds her hand and whispers soothing words. Zeke stands silent and stunned. Mom speaks in a low and ragged voice. “Whatever you’re trying to do, Armageddon, it won’t work.”

The desert echoes with my father’s howls. Loud cracks sound as bones snap and his wings are pulled free. Armageddon turns to Mom, his face twisted in evil glee. “Still not working?”

Mom’s face is colorless; her bottom lip quivers. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. I find my voice, though. Sob after sob break free from my throat.

My father’s body arches in pain as new wings sprout from his back. Small buds appear on his shoulder blades, tearing at his flesh. He screams again as huge golden wings burst from his shoulders. The self-healing power of archangels, used to torture him through eternity. This is so wrong.

I stare at my father’s broken body. Anger flows down my neck and shoulders, tightening every muscle. My wrath demon spews fire in my belly, filling me with white-hot rage. I turn to Lincoln, ready to explain what I’m about to do. Once I see the fury in
his
eyes, I know I won’t have to.

I rise to my feet, my tail flicking behind me in a predatory rhythm. Lincoln stands at my side.

Armageddon’s head snaps in my direction. “Look, who we have here. The little Arena girl and the thrax High Prince.” His eyes sparkle. “You’re King Connor’s boy.” His gaze flips back and forth between me and Mom. “And
that
girl’s your daughter, isn’t she, Camilla?”

Xavier slowly lifts his ragged head. His blue eyes glow with a soft light. He looks to Mom and rasps out one word: “Daughter?”

Mom offers him a gentle nod. Part of me knows I should see the love in her face and feel some kind of pain. But nothing can drown out the howls of rage inside me.
I am tearing those chains off my father if it’s the last thing I ever do.

He swallows. “Is she–”

“Yes, Xavier.” Her eyes brim with tears. “She’s yours.”

The archangel strains to twist his head. He gaze rests on me. “She’s lovely, Camilla.” He forces his broken voice louder. “You’re lovely.”

They are soft words, and something inside me wishes I could feel their tenderness. But right now, all I know is fury. This ends, now. “That’s not all I am, father.” I raise my hand and call to the igni. Their voices chatter angrily in my brain as they whip around my palm. These are the dark children, the ones who send souls to Hell. They look the same as the good igni. Huh. I wasn’t calling the right ones before.

I grin.
Well, I’ve got the hang of it now.

Armageddon leans back on his heel, folding his arms over his lean chest. “So, you’re the true Scala Heir. Interesting.”

I summon more igni around my palm. Their voices take on a harsh edge, like
razor blades scraping across metal. “You almost have that right.” The igni multiply into a white column that’s seven feet tall. “I’m not the Scala Heir. I’m the Great Scala.” Beside me, Lincoln ignites his baculum.

Armageddon’s eyes flare bright red. “What are you saying? Where’s my son? WHERE IS MY SON?”

“Killed by his own hand,” says Lincoln. “He died a true thrax warrior.” He tosses his blade from hand to hand, sizing up Armageddon.

The demon leader throws back his head and howls. The sound rattles the desert. “My son is dead? MY SON IS DEAD?!” He crouches to Xavier’s side, grips his hair and yanks up his skull. “I want to you watch your daughter closely now, because I’m going to break her bones and drag her to Hell. She will fulfill my vow to torture Maxon.” He turns to me and offers a smug grin, certain he just scared the fight out of me.

Not even close, buddy.

Every cell in my body pulses with fury. “Try this on for size.” I blast my column of white lightning straight into the sky, pumping the storm clouds with bright flashes. “How about you get your goddamn hands off my father?” The clouds roll with an ear-splitting peal of thunder. “NOW.”

Growling, Armageddon leaps onto the ridge. Beside me, Lincoln flinches as the greater demon’s aura slams into him. Nothing happens to me this time; igni must block the effect. Armageddon strides toward me, raising his hand to strike. Every instinct I have screams for me to move, but I can’t control igni and dodge blows at the same time. And if I lose the igni, I lose this fight too.

The King of Hell swipes his fist toward my head. I wince, waiting for the blow. At the last moment, Lincoln jumps between me and Armageddon’s fist. His baculum collide with the demon’s stone-smooth skin, sending a shower of blood-red sparks through the air. The King of Hell pulls back his arm; his flesh is unharmed by the sword. The demon continues his onslaught, every volley coming faster. Time and again, Lincoln meets each blow before it connects with my—or his—exposed skin.

My regular self would be horrified at this moment: Lincoln in danger, my father in chains, everyone I love at risk, and all of Purgatory relying on me. But I lock those thoughts away, sealing them inside an internal vault. My mind snaps into the hyper-focus of battle mode. There is nothing but my task—moving demons to Hell—and the next step to accomplish it.

I size up Armageddon’s blows and Lincoln’s counter-strikes. The Prince can only give me a few more minutes; I need to move faster. To my right, the igni column glimmers with power as it pumps more white light into the dark clouds. I set my fingertips a few inches into the column’s sparkling skin. Igni voices grow louder in my brain. Something new joins them as well: images of demons across Purgatory.

An idea forms. I know exactly how to speed things up. Excitement kicks inside my chest.

I pump more igni into the giant soul-column, then step inside myself. It’s oddly peaceful within: no wind, no sounds, only a hallow column of bright white light. Visions flash through my brain. I picture every demon across Purgatory. Crini,
Manus, Papilio…more than five thousand evil faces flicker through my mind’s eye.

Turning my gaze upwards, I propel the soul-column higher until, like a geyser, the igni blast through the top of the clouds and rain down across Purgatory.

My mouth curls into a grin. It’s working.

In my mind’s eye, I see tiny lightning bolts descend around thousands of demons. The igni spin about the monster’s bodies, holding them in place. For a moment, all my captives’ misery, hatred, and cruelty crash through me, an avalanche of evil. I sense where each one stands, what each one is, and where each one belongs.

So I send them there.

The igni whirl and multiply around every demon. Thousands of soul-columns appear across Purgatory, a demon inside each one. Their lights flare brighter, then they all disappear, taking the monsters inside on a journey to Hell.

All of them, that is, except one.
Armageddon.

My brain anxiously whirls through options and scenarios. How do I get this guy out of here? Somehow he blocked my last wave of soul-columns. I can’t let that happen again.

Armageddon takes another swipe at Lincoln; the Prince blocks the onslaught. Turning toward the demon, I raise my arms to shoulder height, my palms up and flat. I call the igni to me, asking them to change their path so they no longer reach for the clouds. They obey, and the full force of the soul column careens up my body, across my arms and straight into Armageddon’s side.

Take
that.

Part of me knows this is an insanely risky move. I have no idea what it will do to create this kind of connection between me and the King of Hell. I lock those thoughts away and refocus on my task: getting Armageddon out of here.

As the igni smash into him, the King of Hell lets out a spine-crushing howl. He throws his arms wide, creating a column of red flame about his body. Lincoln is blasted out of the way, the force of the red fire as strong as a grenade explosion. Leaping back to his feet, the Prince races toward me, baculum blade in hand.

My igni column merges with Armageddon’s hellfire, creating one great pillar that encases us both. I vaguely hear Lincoln scream for me outside the column of hellfire and angelic igni. He strikes at it with his baculum, but he can’t break in.

The vault where I’ve locked away my emotions starts to splinter. Fear rattles through me, numbing my mind. I now stand on the Gray Sea, face to face with Armageddon. A circle of hellfire and angelic igni surrounds us, the column ending far above us in the clouds.

More fear rockets through me. My control over the igni slips. Around us, the column becomes more hellfire and less angelic igni.

Armageddon smiles greedily. He’s winning and the bastard knows it.

The King of Hell snaps his fingers. Fiery bindings appear around my body. Panic courses through me. More igni disappear. The flames lick about my dragon-scale fighting suit, unable to break through and burn me.

Fast as lightning, Armageddon’s consciousness travels through the igni, merging with my own. Fresh terror zooms through my every nerve ending.
This is bad. Very bad.
An assault on my mind begins. I can almost feel his three-
knuckled fingers flipping through my memories and fears, finally settling on ones that suit his dark purpose.

Unwanted thoughts overwhelm me. I try to stop them, but it’s no use. I want to run, but can’t move. One after another, images appear in my mind’s eye: the panic in Cissy’s face as a poisoned spear nears her back…The Oligarchy’s smirk as they suggest I be traded to Hell…Walker crumpling onto the floor of the Arena, his face writhing in pain after the Crini battle…Lincoln blown away by Armageddon’s pillar of hellfire…Mom’s despair in seeing Xavier’s tortured body…The gut-wrenching cycle of terror, anxiety and rage that’s coursed through me since I woke up one morning with blue eyes.

All of these horrors, all because I’m the Scala.

Despair seeps into my bones, sucking out the marrow of my fight. I never asked for this job, this burden. It’s too much for me and those I love. Before my eyes, the column becomes made of even more hellfire, far less igni. I’m losing ground.

This is hopeless.
Whatever I do, I’m going to die here.

Raising my gaze, I stare numbly at my captor. I’m imprisoned inside a pillar of fire with Armageddon. How did it come to this? I close my eyes, calling out to the igni.
Don’t leave me here. Fight on.
They swirl and dive through the hellfire, refusing to disappear entirely.

My back teeth lock. What did I think would happen, taking on Armageddon with untested powers? I’m an eighteen-year old girl, he’s immortal evil personified. I’m a fool.

Armageddon chuckles. “I have a surprise for you as well.” A black pit opens in the sands between us. A spirit crawls up out of the darkness, her face bloated and covered in scars.

Unholy Hell. That’s the woman I saw in the Arena, the one who sacrificed herself to the Limus demon because she didn’t think she deserved Heaven. Now Armageddon will force me to watch as he consumes her soul. My throat chokes with silent sobs.

Armageddon paces before me, his small black eyes narrowing into slits. “I’ve been following you for some time. You stopped two of my evil souls from entering Heaven. No one gets in my way without paying a price.” He glares at the miserable spirit. “I noticed you wanted to save her, so
I
did. For a special occasion.” A grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Schemes within schemes. That’s why I’m King.”

Armageddon pauses before me, his body looming above mine. “You’ve archangel blood and the old Scala’s power. You’ve moved every other demon to Hell. Yet you’re too weak to touch me.” He grins. “Want to know why?”

My voice comes out a low whisper. “No.”

“I saw your mind. You wait for someone else to shoulder your burden. Someone smarter, stronger, better.”

My eyes sting. “Yes.”
Maybe if that person were here, things would be different.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, something only the King of Hell would know. Anyone
seeking
to become the Great Scala is evil. It’s more power than a good
soul would want, or a bad soul should have. When the good take power, it’s always a service, a burden. And
that
makes them weak. Like you.”

Around me, the igni all but disappear. The fiery bindings on my body flare hotter. He’s right. I am weak. I can’t do this.

Armageddon snaps his fingers once more. The spirit crawls forward until she reaches the feet of the King of Hell. I see her face. Bloated. Red-eyed. Tear-streaked.

I choke back a wave of nausea. Armageddon set this soul aside so one day he could force me to watch her demise. With such evil in the realms, what can anyone really do?

Armageddon raises his pointer finger, smiles right at me, and then slowly lowers his hand toward the woman’s shoulder. Tears roll down her scarred cheeks as he touches her exposed skin. She screams as her spirit-body begins to fray and fade.