Scala (18 page)

“The people remember the Knight's eyes turning demon-red, surely enough,” says Octavia. “But I'm afraid Adair's saying that was your handiwork, Myla. The people seem to believe her explanation.”

I punch my leg in frustration. Stupid thrax. “Why am I not surprised?”

Connor laughs a little too loudly at my sarcasm. “True, true. Adair's a slippery one.”

Lincoln fixes him with an icy stare. “This isn't a laughing matter, Father. What Adair did tonight is treason of the highest order. And the insult to Myla? Outrageous.”

“Yes, my son,” says Connor quickly. “Most serious.” He turns his attention to me. “Heartfelt apologies for how things went this evening. The House of Acca make fearsome enemies.”

I choose my words carefully. “I'm not afraid of them.”
Unlike some people I know.

“You've every right to be upset,” says Octavia. “We ended up cancelling your Ball of Welcome, much to my chagrin. Everyone went home, safe and sound, which is the
only
happy side in this sorry turn of events.” Her words are clearly pointed at Connor. As in, stop pretending this is no big deal.

“What about the thrax who ran away?” asks Lincoln. “They were at the top of the stairs when Adair possessed the rest of the Ballroom. Ghouls chased after them. What happened next?”

I grab Lincoln's hand and give it a squeeze.
Nice thinking, babe
. Everyone else may buy a story that I possessed the Knights, but the thrax who escaped the Ballroom would've seen the full truth. Maybe they're in Antrum right now, clearing my name.

“I know all about those thrax from the staircase,” says Connor. “Unfortunately, it seems they bad falls once they left the Crystal Ballroom. They're all safe now, recovering in the palace infirmary.”

Lincoln's eyes narrow. “So they were attacked by the ghouls, but now they say they all fell on their own?”

“That's their story,” says Connor. “A pack of lies, of course. They're afraid of Acca's wrath. I'm so sorry, my boy.”

My jaw clenches with held-in rage. Maybe they're clearing my name? Maybe they're in Antrum acting like a bunch of pussies. My inner wrath demon flares to life inside me. I slap my palms onto the tabletop.

“So, how much longer will we pretend this isn't a catastrophe?” I ask. “Some psycho's gotten my igni. I want all of my powers back, pronto. We have souls to move in less than twenty-four hours.”

“You've not enough igni for an iconigration, then?” asks Connor.

How I hate admitting this. “No, I don't.”

“We've news in that front,” says Octavia. “The Earl of Acca visited after you left. He says he speaks for Adair.”

“And you believe him?” Adair doesn't seem like the type to let anyone speak for her.

“Never,” retorts Octavia. “But in this case, I see no reason why Adair wouldn't use her father as go-between. The Earl has a message for you. He says Adair can move all your souls tomorrow.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I caution. “Let's not get hysterical. Sure, I can't perform an iconigration right this second. But if I can sneak into Antrum, drag Adair out, and get my powers back, then everything will be fine.”

“I've some crack angelic troops we can send in as well,” adds Dad. “They're experts at extracting criminals from sticky situations. We still need to figure out
how to restore Myla's igni, but that's something we can focus on once we have Adair back in custody.”

My tail gives Dad a high-five.
Way to back up your daughter!

For the last two hours, Dad's been leading the planning side of our special ops mission. At this point, all we really need is some intel on Adair's location. That's where Lincoln's parents come in. If they can say where Miss PsychoPants is hiding out, we can take the rest from there.

“It's a rock-solid plan,” I declare. “I'd be happy to walk you through it.”

Octavia's face melts with sympathy. “Whatever operation you have in mind, I see four issues with it. One, Acca has control over every Pulpitum, so we can't get you into Antrum without their knowledge. Two, even if we could, we've no idea where Adair is. Antrum's huge; it could take weeks to track Adair down, and that's assuming she didn't escape into another realm.”

I frown. Okay, the lack of Adair intel is a huge bummer. That definitely throws a monkey wrench into our special ops mission.

“Three,” continues Octavia. “Supposing you do find her and take her back to Purgatory, you didn't have much luck getting your powers out of Adair when she was in prison before. What makes you think you'll succeed now? And four, if your mission is discovered, the Earl will back down from his offer to have Adair do the iconigration.”

“Assuming that offer is genuine,” I caution.

“I give it a fifty-fifty chance. Still, those are the best odds you have to move souls in the morning. I don't see the benefit in jeopardizing that opportunity until we know if they'll keep their word.”

The tiny hairs at the back of my neck prickle. I can see where Octavia is going with this, and it's not a nice place. “What are you saying, then? We shouldn't even try?”

Connor starts to speak, but Octavia raises her hand. “No, I think it's better if this comes from me.”

“If what comes from you?” asks Lincoln slowly.

Octavia folds her hand neatly on the tabletop. “Trust me, I have no joy in sharing this message, but the Earl of Acca is willing to guarantee that Adair will be compliant, in writing if you like. She'll move the souls you want, when and where you want them, for as long as she lives. But there's a price.”

Suddenly, it's very clear why Connor and Octavia were allowed to come to Purgatory so quickly. Lincoln. My stomach twists with disgust. I didn't just free Lincoln from Adair's mind control only to have this happen.

Dad leans back in his chair. “Does this compliance include protection for Myla and Camilla? I'd assumed Adair held nothing but ill will towards my daughter.”

“They're both explicitly covered,” replies Octavia. “And Myla's here right now, isn't she? If Adair wanted to, she could have sent her to Hell already.”

Dad rubs his chin with his right hand. “Quite true.”

Quite false, actually.
If they think Adair's holding off on sending me to Hell because of some agreement with her father, they're nuts. Not that I'm sharing that fact at this point. That particular assumption is a key part of my secret back-up
plan. I cross my fingers under the table. Let's hope I don't have to use the secret back-up plan. It's a little crazy.

Come oooooooooon, special ops mission.

Connor shakes his head. “I hate being the bearer of bad tidings, here. I know how attached you two are.”

Lincoln's face is stone. “But the Earl has demands.”

“Yes, he does,” says Connor. “They aren't anything we haven't discussed before.”

My chest tightens with a sense of fear and dread. I know what those demands are. Marriage contract. My Lincoln stuck with that psycho.

Hell, no.

“Please, my boy,” says Connor. “I'm no King without my best solider at my side. We need you back in Antrum. Alone. And by first thing tomorrow morning.” He pats Octavia's hand. “You can thank your mother for that. She fought hard to give the pair of you time to say good-bye.”

Lincoln pins his father with a look that could freeze lava. “And what about the betrothal jewels? At least, grant me that.”

Connor scratches his neck in a nervous rhythm. “Still missing, my lad. We'll find them. When you come to Antrum, we'll hunt them down together.”

Meaning that he'll only get them if he goes to Antrum and does what Adair wants. My mind fogs over as rage, frustration and despair ricochet through my thoughts. I force myself to focus and slowly, my internal haze clears. A dark determination settles into my soul.

I don't care what the consequences, this isn't happening.

“So this is it?” I ask. “We sell out Lincoln to Adair. I refuse to believe this is our only option.”

“It's the only option right now, my dear,” says Octavia gently. “A war is battles. We lost this one, I'm afraid. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to avoid actual nuptials with Adair.”

“Then give Lincoln the betrothal jewels. Now.”

“What if Adair hears of it?” asks Octavia. “There wouldn't be an iconigration tomorrow. You must see reason.”

I focus on my parents. “And what do you two think?”

“The Earl of Acca's offer changes things,” says Dad. “At least, for the next twenty-four hours.”

Mom's been quiet this entire time, watching the scene with a diplomatic eye. Now, she rises to her feet. “Thank you, Octavia and Connor. We'll take it from here.”

There's no question what ‘taking it from here' means in Mom-speak. She agrees with Dad, too. I know they're both only doing what they think is best for everyone—me included—but I still can't help feeling betrayed and hurt. A crushing sense of sadness weighs down on me, making every word I say a chore.

“You don't have to shoo them away, Mom. I know what you'll tell me when they go. You agree with them. We need to let Adair move the souls and think she gets Lincoln, at least until the crisis is over.”

“I'm with your mother on this one, Myla,” adds Dad. “Adair's too powerful. Gaining back your Scala abilities isn't worth losing your life in a last minute attack with no intel. And it seems like the girl's willing to be reasonable, do the work of a Scala, at least for now. It's the most we can do for the next twenty-four hours. There's no advantage in antagonizing her until this crisis in Purgatory is over.”

I shift my gaze between Octavia and Connor. “So this may be the last time I ever see you two.”

Octavia's eyes widen with surprise. “I certainly hope not.”

“Of course, we'll cross paths again,” adds Connor with an easy grin.

The way Connor talks, it's like Lincoln's only going on vacation. His casual attitude really ticks me off. Before our talk, I promised Mom that I'd keep my mouth shut around Connor, but now? If there's one advantage to this crap situation, it's that I can finally speak my mind.

I steel my shoulders. “Connor, I've something to say before you go.”

“What is it, child?”

I turn to Lincoln. “You mind if I?”

“Be my guest.” He sets his hand in mine. “I've got your back.”

Some of my sadness lightens. Lincoln and I really do have each other's backs.

Octavia fidgets in her seat. “I appreciate that this situation is trying for you, my dear. However, you must understand. It isn't the thrax way to criticize—”

“Well, it's my way.” I focus all my attention on Connor. “From the first time I met you back in Purgatory, you've been concerned about one thing. The House of Acca. Never about your son's feelings. Or what's best for him and his life.”

All the blood drains from Connor's face. They weren't lying; no one gives this guy the truth. Well, he's about to get an earful now.

“Over and over, you tell Lincoln how he's your best solider, how he has to do things for you. Even the first time I saw you at the Ryder mansion, you told him to approach the quasi girls because it was his duty to the angels. How about thinking about your duty to him as a father, for once? Maybe put Lincoln's needs above Acca or even Antrum? If you'd have given Lincoln the betrothal jewels when he asked for them, we wouldn't be in this situation right now.”

Connor shakes his head. “It isn't that simple.”

I rise to my feet; I'm on a roll. “I disagree. It's absolutely that simple. You're so stuck in your precious thrax traditions and House politics, you can forget what it means to be a good person. Or in your case, Connor, a good parent. Maybe yes, we must give in to Adair for the next twenty-four hours, but you're totally outrageous to play it off like she's just high-spirited…Or that the Earl isn't asking for anything new. Adair is part demon now. She possesses people. At least, do Lincoln the courtesy of admitting that we're locking him into a living Hell, and not pretending that everything's alright.”

I glare at Connor, my eyes flaring demon red. His features turn slack with shock. A long silence follows.

Finally, I retake my seat. “That's all I have to say.”

Mom straightens in her chair; she's in official President Lewis mode, now. “I think our meeting is over, then.” She scans the table. “Unless anyone can think of other plans or options?”

“No, I can't think of anything.” I reset my hand into Lincoln's. “I'd like our time alone now.”

But that last part is a huge lie. I do have one idea on how to get my powers back. It's the last-ditch crazy option I thought of before, but was hoping I'd have better luck and wouldn't need to go there. Now, it seems that my luck has run out entirely, because as much as I hate this concept, I know that my parents will hate it more. So, I'm keeping it a secret.

I'm confronting Adair alone, tonight.

The Ryder mansion isn't far from my new home, so Lincoln and I decide to walk through their hedgerow maze. Here's where Lincoln and I shared some of our first kisses, so the place has lots of good mojo.

And with the stuff I have to discuss, I need all the positive mojo I can get.

It's a pleasant night, Purgatory-wise. The sky is grey, as always, but it hasn't rained in a few days, so the ground of the maze is dry and soft. We hold hands and stroll through the familiar paths. Funny how our feet take a direct route to the fountain at the maze's center. I suppose our kiss there is one of those things that stick with you.

We step along quietly for a time, and then Lincoln breaks the silence. “Thank you.”