Angelbound (20 page)

Disappointment lands on my shoulders. “I get it.” I jam my hands into the pockets of my sweats. “I’ll head home.” I turn toward Betsy.

Cissy grabs my arm. “No, you can still use the library.” She starts blinking madly, a sugary grin forced onto her face.

Uh-uh. Cissy’s working some angle here.

Zeke wraps his arm around her shoulder and winks. “Of course! Mom and Dad said it was fine, just for today. Only promise to stay in the library. No roaming around.”

I eye their forced chipper-ness carefully. They’re
definitely
up to something. I shrug. What do I care? I want intel and now I can get it. “I’ll stay in the library, no problem.”

Cissy opens the front door with a long creak; then she gestures toward the West Wing. “See you later.”

“Have fun, you two.” I speed down the West Wing hallway and up to the fourth floor library. Stepping out of the stairwell, I’m greeted by the familiar labyrinth of tall wooden bookcases. I wind my way through the maze of shelves, finding the ghoul section in the far right corner. After scanning a few dusty volumes, I find the
Libra Ghoul.

My muscles tighten with nervous energy. Here’s the master encyclopedia on all things ghoul-ish. I pull down the four-inch thick book and eye the hefty leather binding. Across the cover, a hundred ghouls are listed as authors, their letters and numbers all in glittering gold script.

I haul the
Libra Ghoul
over to my favorite window seat. I sit down, open the book, scan the index, and find the section on ghoul half-breeds, reading:

Ghouls may mate with creatures from other realms. The offspring will appear
in human form throughout their mortal lives, a phase which is known as the larvae stage.

I stick out my tongue. Yuck, I’m a larvae right now.

Upon death, the larvae mature into their wondrous ghoul form. In their mortal state, half-breeds are notorious for failing to follow rules and procedures. Once dead, however, they develop a natural appreciation for Group Think and process.

Whoa. I’ll turn into some rule-loving nincompoop one day. I shiver, fight the sense of nausea in my stomach, and return my attention to the book. A section called Group Think catches my eye.

Mature ghouls are not isolated organisms like other unfortunate creatures. They share a single consciousness led by the most perfect of our kind, the Oligarchy. This superior form of connected living is called Group Think. Thanks to it, the thoughts of our great leaders constantly pulse through the minds of every ghoul.

I snap the book shut with a sneer. Someday I’ll have the Oligarchy in my head 24-7? That sucks with a capital ‘S.’ Maybe I’m better off not knowing my heritage.

Footsteps sound from the other side of the Library. “You’ll find her in here, your Highness.”

My stomach spirals with shock. There aren’t a lot of your Highnesses running around Purgatory. Suddenly, Cissy and Zeke’s offer of the library makes perfect sense. Those little creeps. Okay, it was totally sneaky of me to hit the thrax compound with every intention of causing trouble. But Cissy and Zeke are being pretty sneaky here, too. If they want me to play nice with others, an ambush isn’t
the way to do it.

“Thank you.” The voice is definitely Lincoln’s. I can tell by his clipped tone that I’m in for it. Ugh.

I re-open the
Libra Ghoul
and pretend to be super-interested. Footsteps march in drum-roll rhythm across the library floor, then pause nearby. I look up. Lincoln stands before me in his leather pants and velvet tunic, his mismatched eyes glowering. A jolt of adrenaline races through my bloodstream.

Bring it on.

“Hello, Miss Lewis.” He sets his feet apart; his broad shoulders stiffen. Battle stance.

“Hello, Mister The Prince.”

“I had an official audience with the Ghoul Minister today. It seems he didn’t approve your delivering his message.”

I close my book. “And?”

“So, you admit you raided the thrax compound without authorization?”

I tap my cheek. “So,
you
admit that a lowly quasi girl successfully raided your super-awesome demon-hunter compound?”

“Your actions were rude and startling. The Lords were not prepared.”

I sniff. “They were wearing chain mail, carrying weapons, and in the middle of battle training. I call that a fair fight.”

He shakes his head from side to side. “My men don’t expect strange girls in unitards to appear out of nowhere.”

I raise my pointer finger. “One, it’s a dragon-scale fighting suit, not a unitard.”
I raise another digit. “Two, what exactly
do
they expect girls to do when they’re attacked? Half the best Arena fighters are women.”

“That’s not how it is in Antrum.”

“What’s an Antrum?”

“Where I live, where all thrax live. Back on Earth, deep underground.”

“That makes sense. Not knowing girls fight; it figures you all live under a rock.”

Closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath. “No one speaks to me like that.” A muscle twitches along his jaw.

My eyes narrow. He’s not the only one who doesn’t like back-talk. “Welcome to Purgatory.”

“The Earls demand you attend a tournament of demon fighting prowess to celebrate the autumnal equinox. As senior members of the thrax nobility, they will battle on the field of honor.”

“Humph.” No way am I joining that sausage party. They can prove their manliness on their own time. “Sounds like a ‘we’ll show her’ kind of thing.”

“The Lords have a right to display their skills under traditional circumstances.”

“Well, there’s one thing they need to do first.”

Lincoln folds his arms over his chest. “And what’s that, in your experience?”

“Say. Please.”

The Prince rakes one hand through his brown hair. “Disrespectful.”

He
thinks
I’m
disrespectful? “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Lincoln inhales slowly, his fists open and close. Turning on his heel, he stomps away. Leaning back in my perch, I lace my fingers over my belly and watch him retreat. He’s got a strong back, long arms roped with muscle, and a bottom half that does justice to those black leather pants. Though the front side of him is pretty tasty, too. His mouth, I must say, is particularly yummy-looking.

Whoa there.
I should not stare lustily at snobby Princes. Come to think of it, since when do I stare lustily at guys, period? I shake out my hands and shift my head from side to side. That fight threw me out of whack, big time.

I hop to my feet, a broad grin rounding my mouth.
That fight threw me out of whack because I WON.
I’m so proud of my bad-self, I almost dance out of the library and down the steps, mentally replaying every word of my verbal ass-whooping. I reach the reception hall and freeze.

Cissy and Zeke stand by the front door and, dang, they look mighty peeved. Again.

Cissy sets her fists on her hips. “The thrax High Prince just left his meeting with the Ghoul Minister. He was not happy.”

I put on my innocent face and blink. “What makes you say that?”

Cissy frowns. “He just blew past us.”

Zeke points to the West Wing. “And the diplomatic conference room is right below the library. What do you say about that?”

“I say that’s sure strange.” I shrug. “That Prince is pretty temperamental for a demon hunter, huh?”

Zeke folds his arms over his chest. “Did you two fight again?”

“Fight?” I scratch my neck. “We never fight.” Technically. We
yell
at each other a lot, though.

Cissy turns to Zeke. “Can you give us some girl-time? Myla and I need to talk.”

Zeke glares at me for a full minute. “Sure.”

Cissy opens the reception hall’s back door and gestures to the hedgerow maze behind the mansion. “This way, Myla.”

I walk through the doorway and onto the yellowing grass. Cissy follows me, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The muscles along my jaw tighten with determination. I will
not
feel guilty this time around. She and Zeke totally ambushed me.

Cissy spins around to face me. “Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s me here.” Cissy rolls her eyes. “You’re not leaving this spot until I get some information. I know you two fought. Honestly, you’re causing like, huge inter-realm incidents here.”

I let out a dramatic gasp. “Come on! Who sent the Prince of Pissed my way with no warning? What did you think would happen?”

Cissy stares at her toes for a minute. “That was Zeke’s idea. I told him it wouldn’t work.”

“Well, it didn’t.”
Leave it to Zeke to come up with a lame plan like that one
.

Cissy sighs. “So, what exactly
did
happen?”

I puff out a breath. “The Prince demands I attend a tournament so his steak-
head Earls can show me how awesome they are.”

“And you said?”

“I said they had to say ‘please.’” I fold my arms over my chest. I’m totally in the right here; no way am I backing down.

Cissy groans. “What is it between you two?”

“Uh, hatred?”

“No.” Cissy slowly scans me from head to toe. “No, it’s not.”

I roll my eyes. Cissy can be so thick sometimes. “Uh,
yes-yes
it is.”

“You can’t see it, but I can. You
care
about this guy.” Her eyes flicker red with envy. “More than you care about me.”

Her words slam into me, knocking my breath away. Sure, I think about Lincoln a lot, but only because he’s being such a dick. She’s wrong. Totally wrong. “I care about kicking him in the head, that’s about it. You’re my best and only friend.”

Cissy’s voice turns low and menacing. “He fights you and holds his own. You can’t resist a good battle, Myla.” Her irises blaze with scarlet light. “But you should be
my
friend first.”

Anger boils up my spine. “What a coincidence! I’d like it if you were
my friend first
, too. I totally came clean about the Prince and you laughed it off. Then you ambush me in the library. Not okay, girlfriend.”

Cissy’s eyes narrow into fiery red slits. “You’re right. I should have believed you when you said you fought with the Prince and didn’t care about Zeke. I never should have sent you to the library unprepared. For that, I’m sorry. Truly.” She
speaks in a super-low and creepy voice. “Now prove you’re more
my friend
than
his enemy.
Go with me to the tournament.”

Uh-oh. My heart sinks to my toes. Cissy’s envy demon is kicking in, big time. Sure, she shows demonic jealousy when girls like Paulette talk about Zeke, but that’s small stuff. Her full-blown envy attacks don’t happen often, but when they do, I don’t want to be anywhere near the blast radius.

My mouth brightens into what I hope is a convincing smile. “I’m your friend first, last, and always, Cissy.” I chuck her on the upper arm. “You know that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I scan the mansion’s grounds, looking for safe lines of exit.

Cissy’s eyes keep burning red with jealousy. “Then prove it.” Her mouth compresses into a straight line. “Go with me to the tournament. Show me that I’m more important to you than
he
is.”

I raise my hands to shoulder level, palms forward. “Look, I know I caused trouble delivering that message, but you and Zeke totally set me up too. In the library, you didn’t—”

“Stop right there.” Her voice stays creepy-calm as her eyes flicker with fire. “I don’t care about the message. I don’t care about the library. I care about one thing.” She steps closer. “What’s. Mine.”

My mouth contracts into a tiny ‘o’ shape. I’ve never, ever seen Cissy’s envy demon this riled up. She’s a little scary right now, and I
know
scary. My mind freezes with shock. “I’m not sure what to say.”

She steps even closer. “Say you’re going to the tournament.”

With my palms still at shoulder-level, I waggle them from side to side in the universal sign for ‘calm down.’ “Let me think about it.” I cock my head to the right, considering. A tournament could be cool—I’d love to catch some new demon-fighting tricks. Then, I picture Lincoln’s face. Anger boils through my body, melting away all thoughts until I can’t remember why I was contemplating this stupid tournament in the first place. “Not a chance.”

Cissy bares her teeth, her eyes flaring with an almost blinding red light. She turns on her heel and marches away.

Oh, no.

This hasn’t happened since the third grade, and it’s the kryptonite to my super sassy-mouth:

The silent treatment from Cissy.

Once she’s a safe distance, I rev up Betsy and putter home, assessing my new friendless state along the way. Cissy’s out of control right now, but she can’t stay fired up forever. At least, I don’t
think
she can. I bet she’ll return to her normal, sweet self in a few days, tops.
Yeah that’s it.
I march through my front door, say my hellos to Mom, and plunk onto the couch to spend some quality time with the Human Channel.

Half-way through a
Scooby-Doo
marathon, I fall into a deep sleep. Within seconds, I’m dreaming of the Gray Sea.

In my dreamscape, I return to the dark sands of the Gray Sea. I stand on the warm ground, the stench of sulphur thick in my lungs. Kneeling to the earth, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A ring of white flame appears. The sand within the circle rises, forming into the shape of my mother. More of the desert crawls upward, creating the outline of a room surrounding her.

The ring of fire flares brighter, then it fades away. Before me, the figures change. Instead of being made from sand, they’re now flesh and bone. I scan the scene, seeing a busy Senate chamber made of white marble. Wooden benches line the floor, all of them filled with quasis in purple robes, their many different tails swaying in the same slow rhythm. In the front of the space, my mother stands behind a tall wooden podium. The Senators watch her from the benches, their attention fixed.

Mom grips the podium’s edges. “My proposal with Senator Myung is an important step forward in fair after-life treatment for human souls. Too often, souls reach Purgatory without any comfort or support from the guardian angels
who protected them during their lifetime.”