Armageddon (Angelbound) (5 page)

“I’m a bodyguard,” explains Hildy. “And I’m a shitty liar, too. I told Connor and Octavia that I could never keep my powers a secret, but they wanted to hire me anyway.”

I nod slowly, my brain trying to process what’s going on. “So, Connor and Octavia hired a bodyguard for Maxon. I’m still not understanding why that’s a problem. A lot of nobles have bodyguards.”

“Hildy, tell the Queen who you are and what you do. All of it.”

“I’m a monopsyche,” Hildy winces as she speaks the word, like she’s waiting for me to lose my mind as much as Lincoln. “Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’re a specialized type of thrax bodyguard and not part of the mainstream. You have to be a Striga mix.”

“A mix?” I repeat. “You mean like, one parent is Striga, and the other is from a different house? I didn’t even know they allowed that.” Striga are a little creepy in how they discourage marriage outside their own.

“It isn’t allowed at all, but it happens,” replies Hildy. “The heart wants what it wants, you know? And unplanned pregnancies happen, too. When a baby’s involved, the parent has two choices. They can either be shunned from Striga for life, or drop their newborn off at the Wastelands, an isolated school in an even more isolated corner of the Striga realm.”

“You mean, like one of the places left over from King Aethelwulf?” That psychopath was the last King of Antrum to come from the House of Acca. His great contribution to thrax history? Deciding that the best way to fight demons was to cut them off at the source and declare war on Hell itself. Antrum almost fell apart.

“Yes,” replies Lincoln. “The Wastelands were Aethelwulf’s creation, one hundred percent.”

I rub my neck, still trying to understand why Lincoln’s so upset. “So, you’re an orphan who was trained at this school for monopsyches. And what did you learn there, exactly?”

“Mixed kids like me, we end up with special powers. I can merge with another thrax’s mind, which makes me a great bodyguard. That’s what monopsyche means, a bodyguard who can merge their consciousness with someone else’s.” She fidgets with the buttons on her coat. “Look, it’d be easier if I show you.” She stands up and offers Lincoln and I her palms. “May I?”

“Depends,” I reply. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll take you both into my mind to see my memories.”

I rise to my feet. “Hey, if it clears this up, then I’m in.”

“Thanks,” says Hildy. “The things that monopsyches do are hard to explain.” She shakes her head. “And the stuff that I do? Impossible.”

“Fine, I’ll go first,” says Lincoln. He places his palm atop Hildy’s and closes his eyes. Seconds pass before Hildy gives his hand a gentle shake.

“Are you there in my memory?” she asks. “Can you see the school?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Hildy turns to me. For the first time, I can see that her eyes are now all white, no pupils or irises at all. “Your turn, Your Highness.”

I gingerly set my palm onto Hildy’s. Instantly, the chamber around me disappears. I’m left with the sinking feeling that as terrible as the thought of abduction is, I’m about to discover something even more horrible.

# # #

The next thing I know, I stand in a snug underground tunnel lined with skulls, each head held in place with a pair of thigh bones that are folded neatly beneath it. Lincoln stands beside me, as does Hildy. The air is thick with the smell of mold.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“The catacombs of the Wastelands. You’ll see a young version of me come by in a minute. I won’t be able to see you, of course. This is like a replay, not live action.”

A tiny version of Hildy runs down the hallway, all dirty blonde hair in a dirtier white frock. Her mismatched eyes are wild with fear. She cowers behind a pile of skulls, hiding.

The adult-Hildy steps up to her childhood counterpart and stares into her own eyes. “I didn’t want to be trained as a monopsyche.” A muscle twitches by Hildy’s mouth as she speaks. “The whole idea of other people in my head frightened me. Still, I became a Novice-level monopsyche before the age of four.”

“That’s young,” says Lincoln.

“That’s the youngest on record,” counters Hildy. “As a Novice, I can share memories, like we’re doing now. By the age of seven, I was ready become an Apprentice. That was another first in the history of Monopsyches. The Teschio were thrilled.”

“Who are the Teschio?” I ask.

“Our teachers. They’re an odd bunch, as you’ll see.” A dark gleam flashes in her eyes. The Teschio are more than odd, I can tell. Hildy hates them.

I take a tentative step closer to her. “Why do you think they’re so strange?”

“What you said before. King Aethelwulf.” She turns to the wall of skulls and gestures past the whitened heads. “The Wastelands were once a highly populated part of Striga. Aethelwulf wiped out most of the population in one of his purges.” She glances down the long hallway of skulls. “There are miles of them down here. The Teschio would have starved like everyone else if they hadn’t found some way to live off magic. Now, they’re so skeletal, they make ghouls look muscle-bound.”

Footsteps sound down the corridor. Two tall figures draped head-to-toe in shimmering grey cloth step up to the child version of Hildy. These must be the Teschio.

“There’s no point in hiding, Hildegard,” says the first figure.

“I won’t do it.” The young Hildy clutches her skinny arms around her equally-thin legs. “You can’t make me.”

“If you want me to go away, then force me to do so,” says the second Teschio. Up close, I can see the outline of bones underneath the thin grey fabric. Whoever these Teschio are, they’re skeletons or damned close to them.

“Become an Apprentice,” says the second Teschio. “Take over my body’s shell with your mind. Make me your puppet.” He grabs Hildy’s palm and sets it against his own. Immediately, Hildy’s young eyes turn all white, while her body falls limp as a rag doll. A moment later, the second Teschio strolls over to the wall, pulling out a busted femur from under one of the skulls. The end of the bone is sharp as a blade.

“Are you inside his body now, Hildegard?” asks the first Teschio.

“Of course I am,” replies the second, a twinge of hysteria in his voice. “You made me do it. You make me do everything.”

“Speech is a rather simple skill. Prove to me you have total control.”

“How about this?” The second Teschio takes the blade-sharp bone and plunges it into his own chest. He crumples forward, dead.

On the ground nearby, the young Hildy’s eyes return to their normal shades of blue and brown. She stares at the body of her teacher in disgust. “I killed him, okay? Is that good enough for you?”

“More than good enough, as a matter of fact.” The first Teschio leans over to examine the body beside him. “Of course, your clients won’t want you to kill them. Monopsyches only inhabit the body of a mark for very specific purposes. For example, you can take their pain if they’re tortured, or you can provide battle expertise in pinch. Remember that.”

“I don’t care,” cries the young Hildy. “I did what you wanted. Now, will you leave me alone?”

“No, now we’ll train you to become a Master,” says the Teschio. He walks slowly down the catacombs, leaving Hildy cuddling on the floor.

The grown-up Hildy stares at her younger self. “You don’t have to keep seeing this stuff if you don’t want to.”

Lincoln rests his hand gently on Hildy’s shoulder. “Myla and I had no idea it was like this. We’ll clean up the Wastelands as soon as possible. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She exhales a long sigh. “Do you still want to know what I can do?”

Lincoln shoots me a questioning look, but if this can help Maxon, I’m all in.

“Yes, Hildy,” I say quickly. “Show us your next memory.”

# # #

The catacombs disappear, replaced by a small square room made of rough-hewn stone. Another Teschio stands in front of a grown-up version of Hildy. Her white leather coat is less damaged and worn. So is Hildy herself, somehow. A carefree light dances in her eyes. Inside her heart, this remembered Hildy is far younger than the one who visited us today.

What happened to her?

A growl sounds, distracting me. Against the far wall stands a demon, humanoid and gangly, with all white skin and an extra set of arms. The creature has no eyes, a pair of holes for a nose, and a mouth filled with pointed red teeth. The only thing that keeps it from tearing the Teschio and Hildy apart are enchanted manacles on its neck, hands and feet. I’d know that monster anywhere.

It’s a Cruor demon. They take the living to Hell where they torture and eventually consume their prey. My throat tightens with dread and pain. There’s only one reason you keep a Cruor demon chained up. You want to send someone to Hell, or threaten that you will.

My hands ball into angry fists. If these teachers are threatening students with Hell to get them to learn, I will go Scala on their ass so fast, they won’t know how they ended up in Armageddon’s torture pits. No one bypasses the Great Scala. I inhale a long breath, ready to make a speech to that effect when Lincoln takes my hand. All the pain in the world is in his eyes.

“Wait, Myla. It’s not what you think.”

“Okay.” Unfortunately, the look in his eyes says it’s far worse.

The present-day Hildy shrugs. “This is where I leave you. This memory will show you what you need to know, but I don’t need to be here for it, if that makes sense.”

“I get it,” I say. “I can do the same thing when I dreamscape.”

Hildy’s shoulders slump with relief. “Good. I’ll see you back in your chambers.” With that, she disappears. Now, only the memory-version of Hildy remains.

The Teschio glares at the empty doorway. “Our client is late, Hildegard. Find out where he is.”

The younger Hildy folds her arms over her chest. “I’m saving up my powers for the demonstration.”

“Please,” hisses the Teschio. “Casting a Looking Glass will take minimal effort for you. Don’t make me reconsider our deal. Freedom will be yours if you accept this one engagement.”

“Engagement? It’s a death wish. I said I’d talk to the guy, but I haven’t agreed to anything. If you didn’t have me magically bound to this place, I’d be long gone by now.”

“Ah, but we do have you bound. Cast the Looking Glass.”

“Fine.” The young Hildy raises her hand to shoulder height. The tip of her pointer finger glows with a purple hue. She then draws a circle in the air, a shape that fills in with the same purple brightness.

“Show me the client,” says the young Hildy.

Inside the Looking Glass, an image comes into view. A man who’s broad-chested, white haired, and wearing Rixa royal garb. All the breath leaves my body.

It’s Connor.

Sure, I knew he hired Hildy. But seeing him approaching the Wastelands, his face all smiles? Alarm runs through my limbs. Whatever Connor’s up to, it’s dangerous.

The young Hildy looks into the image. “He’s not far, now. What a persistent old goat.”

“That’s no way to speak of someone who spent years camped out at our doors, begging for a way to find and hire you.”

“I’m shocked you ever considered letting me go. There hasn’t been a Grand Master Monopsyche in a thousand years.”

“True, but let’s just say Connor can make it worth our while. The Wastelands may become wealthy now, thanks to him. And you.”

I know the pair of them have been talking for some time, but my brain can only focus on one word:
Years.
The term ricochets painfully around my brain. Connor’s been a ghost in Antrum for ages. There have been so many missed birthday parties and holiday dinners because he was supposedly off enjoying his retirement. But in reality, Connor was here in the Wastelands, searching for Hildy and then, negotiating for her services.

The Teschio speaks again, and his words bring me out of my thoughts. If I’m going to help Maxon, I have to focus on every detail of what takes place in this so-called demonstration for Connor.

“Keep track of the King,” orders the Teschio. “I want to know when he’ll arrive.”

“If you insist.”

“I always do, and I always get what I want.”

“For now.” The young Hildy sets her hands on opposite sides of the Looking Glass, pressing it down to the size of a large watch-face. She then sets the magical image onto the inside of her wrist. The picture of Connor moves on her skin like a live tattoo made of purple ink. “Done.”

Although this entire experience is overwhelming, I can’t help but marvel at the Looking Glass spell. I’d never heard of one before, but that’s not a shock. It takes years to learn even the basics of thrax magic, and that’s if you have nothing else to do but study.

Suddenly, a boy steps through the stone archway on the other side of the room. He’s tall and lanky with pale skin and thick blonde dreads to his waist. He wears a long white leather coat like Hildy’s.

“Hey, Marcus,” says the young Hildy, her smile bright. She hugs him hello, and the embrace lasts a little too long for mere friends.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” says Marcus. He gently tucks a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. “How are we today?”

“Hungry!” screams the Cruor demon. The creature’s voice almost makes me jump out of my skin. I’d forgotten that guy was here.

Marcus slowly turns to stare at the monster. All the blood drains from his face.

The young Hildy sees the fear in Marcus’s eyes. “Hey, you can still back out, you know. There are other ways to gain your freedom from this place.”

“Why would I back out?” asks Marcus, his voice shaking. “You’re the first Grand Master Monopsyche in a thousand years. What’s the problem? I’m only going to Hell for a few seconds before you pull me out again.”

The world freezes at this exact moment. As long as I live, I know that I’ll never forget the look on everyone’s faces. The worry and fear on the young Hildy and Marcus. The steely rage in Lincoln’s eyes. The calm determination of the Teschio.

This is the moment I discover that my father-in-law hired Maxon a Grand Master Monopsyche for one simple reason: she can pull a mark out of Hell.

I turn to Lincoln. “He knew. This entire time, Connor knew that Maxon was at risk of bring abducted by Armageddon. Your father didn’t tell us. Instead, he spent years finding Hildy so she could rescue Maxon, just in case Armageddon’s plan worked.”