Armageddon (Angelbound) (12 page)

“Do you see him?” asks Hildy.

Lincoln smiles with relief. “Yes, we can see our boy.”

As Hildy speaks, Maxon’s mouth forms the same words. His body language is the same as well. He stoically leans against the back wall of the box-prison, just like how Hildy rests against the tiles behind her own cot. His eyes are all white, too.

“Has he woken up at all?” I ask.

“Not yet,” says Hildy. “He’s fine for now.”

The Looking Glass hovers in the air before Hildy. Stepping up to it, Lincoln sets his pointer fingers at opposite sides of the magical oval, the same way that Hildy did back in the Wastelands. He draws his hands together, bringing the Looking Glass down to a small size. “Show me your wrist, Myla.”

A warm sense of love blooms through my chest. Lincoln wants me to have the Looking Glass. My husband’s never offered me a more precious gift.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Positive,” he says, his voice gentle. With careful movements, Lincoln sets the enchanted oval onto the inside of my right wrist. There, the spell settles until it looks like a detailed, shifting tattoo in purple ink. Some of the heavy worry seeps off my shoulders. Now, I can see Maxon whenever I want. I’m unsure whether to smile or cry, so I do a little bit of both.

“I’m wearing the Looking Glass, Hildy.” My finger lovingly traces the circle on my wrist. “Thank you so much.”

The lines of Hildy’s face turn solemn. “That spell will only last as long as I do.”

My body freezes at her words. “Meaning?”

“Once I lose my connection with Maxon, it will disappear.”

Her words send a jolt of terror through my throat. “How long do we have?”

“A day, maybe two.” Hildy’s voice lowers to a whisper. “So far, we have an advantage. Since I’m so quiet, Armageddon figures Maxon is asleep. He’s waiting until our boy wakes up to try anything. Says he likes his guests to be well rested before he shows them a good time.”

My hands ball into angry fists.
What a sick bastard.

“Where are you?” asks Lincoln.

“In the throne room. Armageddon says this is where he used to keep Xavier, too.” Her head lolls on her shoulders. “I have to go now.” Her eyelids flutter. “Look, I won’t have the strength to talk again and keep Maxon safe at the same time, so don’t try, okay?”

I nod so quickly, I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash. “Sure, Hildy.”

“Come get our boy soon. Before the Looking Glass wears out.” Her eyes close once again and she falls silent.

One or two days.

We have forty-eight hours, tops, before our son is subjected to Armageddon’s tender mercies. My tail sways behind me in a predatory rhythm. Beside me, waves of rage roll off Lincoln.

This is the moment when Emily decides to return, her bright smile back in place. “The Head Nurse is on her way. Would you like me to waken this girl with adrenaline?” She holds up syringe. “Perhaps you want to interrogate her for some reason?”

“No!” I bellow. “Put that thing away!” Whipping the syringe from her hand, I smash it onto the floor. “Now, bring the damned Head Nurse or my tail will skewer you where you stand.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“Head Nurse, now!” My voice echoes through the mostly-empty infirmary. A tall, bony woman scurries across the room, stopping when she reaches Hildy’s bed. Her long brown hair is tied into a bun at the back of her neck. I want to rip out every strand.

“So sorry I kept you waiting, Your Highnesses. I was checking the intake forms on this girl. She doesn’t seem to be affiliated with any house, so we didn’t know what to do with her.”

I point to Hildy, every inch of me vibrating with rage. “Nurse Emily just offered to wake her up for us.”

“I t-told her to m-make that offer,” stammers the Head Nurse. “She’s without a house, so we thought she was a prisoner. Someone you’d want to interrogate.”

I step close to the Head Nurse until we’re literally nose-to-nose. “Who’s your second in command?”

“C-command? The Junior nurse on staff tonight is Emily.”

I wave Emily over. She approaches us, wide-eyed and anxious. “Yes, Your Majesties. What can I do?”

“Do you know where to find the staff directory?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good. How many of those workers could have anything to do with Hildy?”

“Oh, about thirty or so, Your Majesty. We’re a small operation. The main infirmary is about a mile from here, but the Head Nurse didn’t think Hildy needed to go there.” She face-palms herself. “But you know where the main infirmary is, of course. Do you want us to move Hildy to it?”

Emily’s babbling, not that I totally blame her. Lots of people get overwhelmed around royalty, especially their first time. “No, I want Hildy here, where she’s a short walk from the royal suites. So, that’s why you’re calling in all the support staff, right now. The King and I will talk to them. Once we’re done, we’ll assign the best team to Hildy.”

The Head Nurse purses her lips in frustration. “I assure you, I’m more than qualified to assign support staff—”

Lincoln glowers at her. “No one’s talking to you.” He turns to Emily. “This girl Hildy is all that’s keeping our child safe while he’s in Hell. No one’s by her side unless the Queen and I have personally approved them. Do you understand?”

“I’ll call them all in, just as you ordered, your Majesties.” Emily rushes away.

The Head Nurse sighs. “We’re all so sorry to learn about the High Prince, Your Highnesses.”

Lincoln steps up to my side. “Your sentiments are appreciated. You’re fired.”

Her mouth falls open with shock. “What?”

“You heard what the King said,” I snarl. “You’re fired. I can’t believe I have an infirmary run by someone who shoves thrax in a corner because they aren’t affiliated with the right house.” She keeps staring at me, her mouth open. “Fired means you
move
.”

“Yes, Your Highnesses.” At last, the Head Nurse walks away as Emily approaches us once more.

“I sent out royal messengers to find all the support staff. They’ll start arriving in a few minutes.”

Lincoln rubs his chin. “Thirty staff members.” He sits down on the cot across from Hildy. “How long do you think those interviews will take, my love?”

I scratch my chin, thinking. “An hour or two.” At this point, I can tell within two minutes if they someone has their head screwed on.

“Agreed,” says Lincoln. “What time is it, Emily?”

“You remembered my name,” stammers the young nurse. “It’s ten o’clock at night, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Excellent work, Emily. You may go.”

Emily blushes, curtsies and then hurries away. Lincoln watches her leave. “She follows orders and fast. That one might end up being the best in the bunch.”

“True.” I loop my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder. After I woke up in the cathedral, my guy seemed frightened and out of control. Now, with every passing second, he’s more and more his old Kingly self. It’s comforting.

“The Striga elders don’t gather until midnight,” says Lincoln. “So, we’ve a few hours to kill, anyway. Might as well spend it here.”

I link his fingers in mine. “We’ve got them on high alert, and that’s always the best start.”

Lincoln gives my hand a squeeze. “I can feel the sphincters tightening from here.”

Despite the doom and gloom, I can’t help but chuckle. One great thing about Lincoln, no matter how tough things get, he can always make me grin. “Thanks, Lincoln. I needed a smile.”

He kisses the top of my head. “And I needed your smile, too.”

Lincoln and I ride in a Viking-style long-ship headed for Striga. Our cargo for this journey is a very self-pitying Connor along with a handful of stoic Rixa guards.

Thankfully, it’s a very long boat and Connor has decided to hold his self-pity party in the last row. Lincoln and I stand up front by the dragon-headed prow. Worry presses in on my temples like a vice. I glance at the Looking Glass my wrist. Maxon is still seated against the wall of his prison box. His eyes are firmly closed. Hildy’s still protecting him. But that won’t last for long.

Try to take your mind off it, Myla. Working yourself into a frenzy will not help Maxon. Focusing on the task at hand will.

I force myself to look down and watch the outer hull of our enchanted vessel. Below me, the wood glistens with angelfire as it’s magically propelled along the Incaenda Way, a magma river that connects all of Antrum’s distant houses and lands. The combined light of the angelfire and magma dances across the blackened cave walls. Normally, this sight is a calming one.

Not tonight. The red-hot magma only calls to mind the fires of Hell, and churns up more worry about Maxon.

At last, our boat pulls over to a nondescript stone dock in a rather ordinary stretch of grey cavern. You wouldn’t know this was an entrance to the land of Striga, but that’s the point. If Antrum stays under air-tight security, then Striga’s stuck a perfect vacuum. They have every reason to be cautious, of course. Their magic comes from Lucifer’s crown, a power source that half the after-realms would love to steal. Unlike his orb, Lucifer’s crown is a source of good magic. Striga casters recharge their powers by touching objects—or more powerfully, their own hands—to its surface.

A drumroll of footsteps interrupts my thoughts. A dozen Striga dignitaries step along the stone dock to where our long-ship is tied off. The men wear purple tunics with the Striga pentagram on the front. The ladies look pale and ghostly in their long purple gowns.

The Earl and Duchess of Striga lead the group. Their faces are understanding and kind; I appreciate their wordless support right now. The Earl pauses at the end of the dock, sets his feet shoulder-width apart, and grips his fist behind his back. His long grey dreads fall almost to his waist.

“The Elders are ready for you, Your Majesties.”

“Thank you, Lucas.” Lincoln’s voice is strong and confident as he grips the Earl’s hand within his own.

Lincoln and I follow the group to a Pulpitum transfer platform, which is a round metal disk set into the cavern floor. Connor slogs along behind us, his chains rattling with every step.

The Earl activates the platform. The metal circle glows with a lavender hue.

“It’s just you three from here on,” says Lucas. “Elder’s orders. Will you be alright?”

Good question. The Elder’s Chamber is something few thrax ever get to see. “What’s their Chamber like?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t know.” Lucas shrugs. “Receiving an audience is rare. Although, my father was called inside once. He said it was dark.” The Earl smiles gently. His father was notorious for being a man of few words.

Lincoln sets his hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Anything for you two.” Lucas nods toward Connor. “He won’t cause you any trouble?”

Connor rattles his chains. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. These are enchanted. Now, let’s get this over with.”

Lucas’s eyes widen with shock. “How can you speak to them in this manner, after what they’ve been through?”

“And what is that, precisely?” Connor asks with a sneer. “I’m the one who’s been locked in solitary confinement like a criminal.”

“No one told you what happened?” I ask.

“I’ve had no visitors since you imprisoned me, if that’s what you mean.” Connor’s cheeks burn red with rage. “Not even Octavia came to see me off.” He starts pacing the Pulpitum like a caged animal. “Now, more things have happened and no one tells the old king? Shameful!”

“This isn’t the time for one of your rages,” says Lincoln.

Connor stops his pacing. “You’re still not going to tell me what happened?”

“No, Father. We’re getting this over with as soon as possible.”

“Start the Pulpitum, Lucas,” I say firmly. “We’ll take it from here.”

Lucas bows low. “As you command, Your Highness.”

Normally, Pulpitum travel means locking hands on each other’s shoulders. On this trip, Lincoln wraps his arm around my waist while Connor sulks on the opposite side of the platform. Works for me.

“On my signal,” calls Lucas. “3, 2, 1.”

The Pulpitum rocks and bucks as we zoom even deeper through the earth. Visions of rock, stone, and magma flash by us as we careen toward the Elder’s Chamber. After a few minutes, we come to a stop inside a great, darkened space made of purple stone.

My breath hitches. This is it. The Striga Elders and, with any luck, some answers about how we can get Maxon back.

The Elder’s Chamber is a marvel of a room with angled walls that—if you’re looking from on high—form the shape of a great pentagram. We stand at very the center of the space, so we have a direct view into each pentagram-point. In every corner, an Elder stands in a pool of indigo light. I count four men and one woman, Elder Faustina. She hobbles toward us with a stooped back and craggy cane, her long white dreads dragging behind her.

“The Elders greet you.” Faustina speaks in what sounds like an Italian lilt, but since she’s been alive since ancient Rome was the new kid on the peninsula, I’m pretty sure the accent’s all her own.

Faustina gestures to Connor’s manacles. “You don’t need those-a here.” The chains instantly fall away.

“Thank you, Elder Faustina,” says Connor.

“Don’t thank-a me yet.” Faustina starts chanting in Latin, and the other Elders join in. I don’t catch all the words, but they say something about the bringer of light and power.

And then, a light appears.

An orb of gentle lilac-colored brightness descends from the ceiling, slowly lowering until it hovers at shoulder level. Inside this gleaming sphere sits a golden circlet decorated with angel wings.

Lucifer’s crown.

Faustina hobbles up to the enchanted circle of gold, touching it with her left hand. The orb pulses with violet light. With her right hand, Faustina draws a large circle in the air. Her finger leaves a trail of purple brightness that hovers in the semi-darkness.

“I try to see the truth, Connor.” She shakes her head sadly. “I conjure a Looking Glass many times.” She steps up to the circle in the air, and its surface glistens with lavender light. “Show me the boy.”

My heart cinches. The Looking Glass fills with the image of Maxon at his play date, running and laughing. On reflex, I glance at the magical oval on my own wrist. Maxon sits upright, his eyes all white, same as before. I exhale with relief. He’s still protected.