Armageddon (Angelbound) (11 page)

I exhale in relief and look upward. Bad move. The amber ceiling is melting, dripping quickly down on me in long, gooey sheets. It takes only seconds for Hildy and I to be completely covered up to our necks. I struggle under the coating of rubbery stone, but I can’t move a muscle. The liquid amber covers my mouth and eyes, and then the world around me fades into nothingness.

For what feels like years, I dream of meandering in the darkness, looking for Maxon. His cries are always just out of earshot. Every time I close in, I hear Armageddon’s laugher as Maxon’s screams fade away and the process starts all over again. Soon, my eyes are sore from crying and my body trembles with the need for sleep. Through it all, I keep stumbling through the all-black dream world around me, repeating one phrase, over and over.

“I will save you, sweet baby.”

# # #

When I become aware again, I find myself lying on a cold floor, curled onto my side. My mind is a jumbled mess. I press my eyes closed tight, trying to recapture the thread of my last thought.

It was night and I was looking for something in the darkness. What was I searching for again?

Familiar fingers run through my hair, bringing me back to the present moment. “Myla, come back to me.”

My eyes flutter open. I’m lying on the floor of the Amber Cathedral. Looking up, I meet Lincoln’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed.

“There you are, Myla. Thank Heavens.” Lincoln leans forward and kisses me gently on the temple. “You were catatonic for almost an hour. Some kind of reaction to the dark magic. They wanted to touch you—cast spells and things—but I wouldn’t let them. I was so afraid they’d make things worse.”

“I must have passed out.” I hoist myself up into a sitting position. “That magic was—” It all comes back to me in a rush.

The Anointing. Armageddon. Maxon. Hell.

I jump to my feet, gasping for breath, my head lolling from side to side as I look around the empty cathedral. “Where is everyone? Where’s Maxon?”

“Everyone’s fine, we evacuated them. I got scared when you wouldn’t wake up, so I sent them all away and waited here with you. I guess I lost my mind for a bit.”

I grip Lincoln’s hands in mine.
Please let it have been a dream. A misunderstanding. Anything other than what happened.

“And Maxon?”

“He’s gone, Myla.” Lincoln’s voice catches. “Armageddon has him.”

If someone ripped my heart out of my rib cage, it couldn’t hurt worse than what I feel right now. My baby was taken. Lincoln and I fold into each other’s arms and weep.

Together, we cry for what feels like an eternity. Between sobs, I relate every detail of what happened with Armageddon and Hildy. Eventually, we both run out of tears and energy. My head leans into the crook of Lincoln’s shoulder, while his hands brush through my hair in long, soothing strokes. I want nothing more than to stand here forever, hiding inside the cathedral, holding Lincoln. I don’t want to face the reality of what happened to our son.

But my inner wrath demon stirs in my blood. Her cackling voice talks about fighting, freedom and vengeance. How Maxon is an innocent and no one’s better equipped to save him than Lincoln and me. She makes my fingers itch to grab a baculum and start kicking ass. “I’m going to kill him.” No question who ‘him’ is. Armageddon.

“You’ll have a lot of help.”

“They’ll all want a war now, you know. It’s no longer just a question of a pre-emptive strike.”

Lincoln shakes his head, unconvinced. “We’ll see. What they want and what they’ll get may not be the same thing.”

I try to wrap my head around the idea of all the after-realms clamoring for battle. It’s too much to contemplate after everything else that’s happened today. Instead, I focus on something I can understand. “Where’s Hildy?”

“She’s in the infirmary.”

“Has she said anything? Done anything?”

“Not that I know of, but I haven’t left your side since you fell.”

“Let’s go see her first. After that, we can hopefully get more information from the Striga Elders. Maybe once we know the full story, we’ll discover a peaceful way to get Maxon back. Perhaps a spell or something?”

“That’s the plan. With any luck, we’ll find out information from Father that will end all this quickly.”

A sad weight settles onto my shoulders. In these situations, Lincoln and I are rarely lucky.

Frantic knocks sound on the cathedral doors. “Are you alright in there?” It’s my mother. Suddenly, I can’t wait to see her face and share a hug.

I open the cathedral door to reveal a reception chamber that’s packed with family. Lincoln and I navigate through a flurry of hugs and tears from my parents, Cissy, Octavia, and Walker. Connor is noticeably absent, which is for the best. If I saw that guy right now, I’d snap his neck.

For a time, I comfort and am comforted. All the while, a small voice in my head cries that Maxon needs me to haul ass. Somewhere after the tenth hug, the little voice takes over; my mind clicks into warrior mode. Everything fades away except the desire to fight for Maxon’s life. Bottom line: hanging around here and hugging people isn’t helping my baby. Lincoln and I need to see Hildy.

I turn toward the exit. “We’ve got to go, guys.”

Mom wraps me in another deep hug. “Where are you off to? I’ll go with you.” She’s in overprotective-Mommy mode, not that I blame her. But I can’t get anything done when I have to deal with my mother’s über clingy-side.

“I know you want to help, Mom. And I appreciate that, really. But right now, Lincoln and I are going to see Hildy, and we have to do it alone.”

Mom dabs under her eyes with her fingertips, but it does nothing to fix the streaks of mascara pooled there. “Hildy? Is that Maxon’s bodyguard, the one everyone’s been talking about?”

Here it comes. When Mom’s upset, she asks obvious questions over and over. I have trouble handling this personality trait at the best of times. But right now? It’s an effort not to punch her. “You know who Hildy is, Mom.”

“Why do you need to see her right this instant?”

Dad steps up to my rescue. “Myla and Lincoln must get some intel. First from Hildy, and then from the Striga Elders.”

“Striga Elders?” says Mom with a gasp. “What do you need them for?”

Nearby, Octavia stiffens. “You should go alone tonight.” Her bottom lip trembles with grief. “I can’t face—” She stops herself before saying ‘Connor.’

Lincoln sets his hand gently on his mother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go to your chambers? We’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”

“Thank you.”

Mom grasps Octavia’s arm. “You’ve been acting strangely since Maxon was taken. Where is Connor? What aren’t you telling me?”

I know my mother, and she’s moved on from rapid-fire questions as a way of dealing with her stress. Instead, she’s now trolling for a nice verbal battle to help release the tension, and Octavia just served her one on a silver platter. At this point, it’s everything I can do to stay in warrior-mode and focus on helping Maxon. Dealing with crazy mothers is off the table.

Walker and Cissy get into the act, with Cissy backing up Mom and Walker coming to Octavia’s defense. This is turning into a disaster.

Dad steps into the center of the room and raises both arms. “Everyone, quiet!” He gets his archangel on, so his huge golden wings magically appear, spread apart at their full length. Everyone falls silent. Dad scans the room with glowing, angel-blue eyes.

As of this moment, I have never been happier in my life that I have a badass archangel general for a father.

“This is what we’re going to do,” orders Dad. “While the kids are getting more information from Hildy, we’ll work together and call a Fealty Ceremony.”

One thing you have to say about the thrax; they have a tradition for everything. When the King and Queen are in trouble, they call a Fealty Ceremony. It’s where everyone who has ever sworn an oath of loyalty to the crown comes forward and says what they can do to help. It can be more information, spells, troops, anything.

“Only the crown can call a Fealty Ceremony,” says Lincoln slowly.

“Then, do you wish one?”

Lincoln turns to me. “What do you say, Myla?”

I scratch my cheek and contemplate.
Who knows? Maybe someone in our realms will have a quick fix for this mess.
“Hey, I’m up for anything that could help.”

“In that case,” says Lincoln. “We’ll hold the ceremony for one purpose only: to gather information, not organize troops. Myla and I haven’t decided on any particular course of action going forward.”

My father frowns. “I should think it’s pretty obvious how all this will end.”

“You think we’re going to war,” I say.

“I
know
we’re going to war,” retorts Dad. “Still, the fealty ceremony is a good start.”

“Thanks, Dad.”
I think.

My father starts barking out orders. Cissy and Mom must gather representatives from Purgatory for the ceremony. Walker will coordinate hosting the ceremony in the Dark Lands, since it will be faster to gather everyone there. Walker will also organize his Aquilinean brothers and sisters to provide portal transport.

Once the plan is set, Dad pulls us all into a huddle, summarizes orders, and sends everyone off on their respective tasks. Lincoln and I head to the Infirmary to see Hildy. As we walk along, I can’t keep the image of my father’s face out of my mind. “Is it just me, or—”

Lincoln finishes my thought. “Is your father railroading us into something?”

I nod slowly. “That’s exactly it. You remember when we first talked to him in the gymnasium. Armageddon tortured him in Hell, tried to kill his daughter and succeeded in kidnapping his grandson. I think he’s ready for a showdown.”

“But are we?”

“I don’t know, Lincoln. I honestly don’t know.”

Lincoln and I step through the main doors to the emergency infirmary at Arx Hall. The effect of our unannounced visit is only slightly less chaotic than setting off a small explosive. People start rushing about, tidying beds and finding superiors. The place is a snug, square, high-ceilinged chamber covered in white tile. Rows of small cots line the floor. Silver doors mark the back wall; those lead to private rooms for nobility.

A young, red-haired nurse in a white uniform steps up to see us, a wide smile on her freckled cheeks. She can’t miss the fact that we’re the King and Queen. Hopefully she hasn’t heard the news that we just lost our son, because otherwise, I may need to slap the chipper right off her face.

“Greetings, Your Highnesses. I’m Nurse Emily. Who are you here to see?”

“Hildegard,” says Lincoln.

“What house?”

“None.”

“Oh, then she’s over by the wall somewhere.”

I scan the infirmary. The place seems relatively empty of patients. The attendees at the Anointing were more scared than hurt. Anyone with a serious injury got emergency care here and then was routed to the main infirmary about a mile away. I’m still not sure how Hildy stayed around, let alone how she ended up outside of a private room.

“She’s over by the wall?” I repeat slowly. This better be where the luxury beds are. “Show us.”

If Emily catches the ice in my tone, she doesn’t show it. “Please follow me, Your Highnesses.”

We trail Emily across the infirmary floor to a small cot in the corner, right by an exit doorway. Nice safety precautions; anyone could drag her down the back staircase and no one would be the wiser. What in blazes is that about? This girl is the only thing keeping Maxon away from the tortures of Hell. How dare they shove her in a corner?

“Her vitals are excellent,” says Emily brightly.

“Who decided to put her here?” asks Lincoln coolly. The ice behind his stare tells me he’s inches away from losing it.

“The Head Nurse. This is what we always do when someone doesn’t have a house.”

“Go find the Head Nurse.” My eyes glow red with demonic rage. “Now.”

Emily lets out a little ‘eep’ noise and scurries away.

Lincoln and I turn our attention to Hildy, who’s sitting on the bed with her eyes closed, knees curled against her chest, and her back resting against the white tiled wall. She looks asleep.

“Hildy should be linked into Maxon’s mind,” I explain. “So, she shouldn’t know we’re here, unless—” I exhale a long sigh.

“Their bond is broken,” finishes Lincoln.

“Right.” I cross my fingers behind my back.
Please let the link still be in place.

I gently touch Hildy’s shoulder. “Hello?” She doesn’t so much as flinch. My shoulders slump with relief. “I don’t think she knows we’re here. They’re still connected.”

“I wish we could talk to her.” Lincoln sits down on Hildy’s cot. “Maybe there’s a way to communicate without breaking their bond.” He closes his eyes for a long moment. “I can sense something, Myla.”

“What?”

“Our minds were connected before, back in the audience chamber. Maybe I can use that now.” He sets Hildy’s palm onto his own. “It’s me, Lincoln. I’m here with Myla.”

Hildy immediately opens her eyes, her all white gaze staring blindly forward. Her hand jerks away from his. “I can’t talk to you for long.” Her voice comes out dead and lifeless. “It might break my link to Maxon.”

Lincoln opens his eyes and steps back from the bed like it was on fire. He takes my hand in his. “You can stop whenever you’re ready, Hildy.”

“Oh, I will, don’t worry about that.” Hildy moves her hands around, miming the shape of walls about her. “I’m in a metal box. A prison. Armageddon says it’s like the one he kept Xavier in, only smaller. Do you know what I mean?”

I frown. “I see your hands moving around, but I’m not one hundred percent sure what you’re doing.”

“This’ll be easier if I show you.” Hildy raises her right hand and her pointer finger glows with purple light. Like she did back in the Wastelands, Hildy draws a circle in the air. A Looking Glass.

I gasp. Hildy’s using magic and show us Maxon. My breath hitches with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. I’ll see my baby again.

A purple haze fills the oval Looking Glass. Bit by bit, an image appears in the violet mist. It’s Maxon, crouched inside a metal box.