Scala

Chapter 4

4

Lincoln and I hunt through the contents of my fridge, looking to scrounge up a quick snack before dinner. Like most nights, my parents are off running Purgatory as Madame President and First Man, so it’s fend for yourself time. Turns out, killing a Durus makes you hungry. Plus, that weird-igni-concert was no-fun. I need me some grub.

Lincoln digs through a shelf loaded with plastic containers. “I still can’t get over this place. So much nicer than Arx Hall.”

My new house is nicer than Lincoln’s underground castle in Antrum?

“I don’t know. Arx Hall’s pretty sweet.”

“Sure, it all looks good,” says Lincoln. “But we’ve no electricity, no phones, no computers. Our kitchens are still stuck in the Middle Ages. There’s a larder, a buttery, an icehouse, and a guy whose only job is to ensure that meats roast properly. I kid you not; I pay someone to be my Master of Turning Spits. It takes a legion of people two days to make me a sandwich.” He gestures open-armed at the fridge. “Now, this is so much better.”

“The kitchen here’s pretty kick-ass, I’ll grant you that.”

Once I got to be the Great Scala—and Mom became Purgatory’s President—I knew we’d get an upgrade in housing. The place we ended up in was recently abandoned by a wealthy ghoul collective (they don’t use the term ‘family’) so it’s essentially a mash-up of Goth haunted house and high-tech superstore. And for once, the ghouls didn’t cheap out on the electronics, either. The kitchen’s the nicest spot, a huge space covered in stainless steel and the latest gadgetry from Earth. There’s a long shiny table on the right-hand side of the room. On the left is where all the inscrutable appliances hang out.

Lincoln slides out a plastic container filled with multi-colored goop. “What in blazes is this?”

“One of Dad’s creations.” As an archangel General, my father has a list of superpowers a mile long. Expertise in demon lore and battle strategy rank up at the top. Being a decent cook isn’t on the list, period. “Dad doesn’t have to eat, but he still likes combining random stuff in a pan. Lately, he’s been stashing it in the fridge, too.”

“Should I open it?”

“Don’t, really. It’ll be the most disgusting thing you’ve ever smelled.”

“Now, I’ve got to open it.” Lincoln lifts the lid a crack. The scent of rotten eggs and dumpster juice slams into our faces. “Damn, that’s nasty.” He closes the lid quickly and shoves it back into the fridge.

“Told you so.” Giving up on the fridge, I go to the stainless steel cabinet where all the Demon bars are stored. Along the way, I notice a pile of written sheets on the countertop. I’d know that handwriting anywhere. It’s Walker’s. As a ghoul and family friend, Walker portals in and out of our kitchen daily. Lately, he’s taken to leaving notes behind, especially if he needs to update us on sensitive stuff.

“Hey, there’s something here from Walker. I bet it’s about the Orb.” My heart rate kicks up a notch. Walker wouldn’t leave a note unless something big had happened. Hopefully, it’s something super-awesome.

“Anything good?” asks Lincoln.

I scan the letter. “Depends how you define good. This is all about Walker’s search for the Orb. He figured out the riddle in the crypt, which is amazing, but it led him to a warehouse in Lower Purgatory that’s filled with magical junk.” I skim through more pages filled with long equations and notes on stuff like probability theory. I flash the sheets at Lincoln. “Any idea what this means?”

“Got me. Walker knows his stuff, though.”

“Well, the bottom line’s that the Orb’s definitely in the warehouse, but Walker has no idea when he’ll find it.” I toss the sheets onto the countertop. “So, we’re back to where we were before. No clue when I can start moving souls again.” I return my attention to the stainless steel cabinets. “Time for comfort food.” I grab a Demon bar, rip it open, and bite into the chocolate-y goodness.

Lincoln slides out a bag of carrots from the fridge and starts to munch. “You know, what you’re eating there is a tiny smidgeon of granola and a whole bunch of chocolate.”

“Hence the name Demon bar.” I bite off another chunk. “I’m at peace with that.”

“Only you, Myla.”

I polish off the bar. “So, I can’t get over how my igni acted around that Durus. They wouldn’t do what I told them. They only wanted to sing. And it was the dark igni too, so their music was a bunch of screeching. Think about two-dozen Yoko Ono clones doing speed metal covers. That’s pretty much the idea.”

Lincoln starts laughing so hard, he almost chokes on a carrot. “What were they singing about?”

“Something about dragons and finding someone. I don’t know. Finally, I told them to shut up and they went away. It was so strange.”

“Doesn’t sound like a big deal to me. Don’t they pop in every so often with odd messages, anyway? This is just the first time they did it when you were telling them to do something else.”

“That’s true.” The igni are notorious for chattering on about cryptic nonsense.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, not unless it happens again.” Lincoln bites off more carrot. “Now, tell me more about Adair. Let’s start with the investigation. What’s she looking into, specifically?”

“How the Ghost Towers are overcrowded and ready to blow. It’s an official inquiry, so there’s no way to bury it. Cissy said she could stall the news getting out, though. So, that’s a help.”

“Nice to have friends in high places.”

“You’re telling me.” I frown. “But after announcing her investigation, Adair asked if I couldn’t move souls to Heaven because I’ve lost some of my powers. I hate to admit it, but after the igni ignored me with the Durus, her words have really gotten under my skin.”

“You losing your powers? That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s possible, alright. There’s one disease where a Scala loses their igni. It’s called the Bloodstone Curse.” I’m tempted to discuss the symptoms, but I’ve had enough nastiness to contemplate for one day.

“So there’s one disease where a Scala loses igni. Whatever. You’re the most powerful Scala in a thousand years. Adair’s just trying to rile you up.”

“Most likely.” I raise my pointer finger, as if an idea’s just occurred to me. “Hey, why can’t she stalk you for a change?”

“Antrum’s totally locked-down. If she got within fifty yards of me without an official reason to be there, my guards would chuck her in the dungeons like that.” Lincoln snaps his fingers. “So, unfortunately, you have to be the focus of her mania.” He bows slightly at the waist. “My sincere apologies.”

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m sure we can share the load.” I tear open another Demon bar.

Lincoln’s right eyebrow lifts in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to ruin your dinner?”

“What are you, my mom? Besides, my parents won’t be back for hours. Dinner is late-night thing around here, if we get to it at all.”

Lincoln sets aside his carrots, a sudden gleam in his eyes. “So, I’ve been thinking about your warehouse problem.”

“And?”

“What if I call in the thrax Alchemists?”

I munch more Demon bar and ponder. For thrax royalty, Alchemists are like food tasters, only with magic. Everyone wants to control the King and Queen of the Thrax, and lots of bad-minded folks try enchantments, potions, you name it. Thrax Alchemists test stuff for evil magic.

“It’s a thought at that,” I say.

“Do you think Walker would be insulted? He’s been running this operation all along and you’ll be bringing in new faces.”

“No, he’s a practical guy. There’s a huge warehouse of magical stuff to search through. I’m sure he’d love all the help he can get.”

“Well, he’ll love the Alchemists, that’s for certain. They’re more scientists than sorcerers.”

“But do they know a lot about enchantments and stuff on machines? Looking at Walker’s note, I guess the warehouse is full of them.”

“Sure.” He gestures to the mixer. “Let me show you.”

Our gazes lock, and the world seems to freeze for a full minute. I’m suddenly very aware that we’re all alone in my house. No parents. Nowhere to be. Just time, quiet and each other…Something that hasn’t happened in weeks. The air crackles with electricity and anticipation. The lust demon side of my lust-and-wrath combo powers awakens within me.

A sneaky smile rounds my lips. “What are you going to show me?”

“Why, the mixer, of course.”

My heart kicks harder as I wonder what Lincoln really plans to do. I turn to face the bizarre contraption on the countertop. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Lincoln slips up behind me, the firm contours of his chest brushing against my back in a way that’s most distracting, especially for someone who’s supposedly demonstrating household appliances. He firmly grips the countertop on either side of my body, and then speaks into my ear, his voice all low, slow and growly. “Almost every group in the after-realms has magic users. Thrax and the House of Striga, Furor and the Hexenwings, even humans. Any one of them could place different hexes and spells on each of the buttons here.”

“Why is it that everything you say sounds sexy?” My voice comes out a bit husky, as well. “This is a mixer.”

He nuzzles into my neck, sending pleasant shivers down my torso. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. As I was saying. My Alchemists know how to detect that magic, and then undo it. For you, they could change it. Make it do whatever you want. Even find the Orb.”

“Whatever I want? That could work.” I grin and lean backwards, allowing my body to press more tightly against his. Damn, that feels niiiiiiiiiiice. “We have to be careful, though. After the ghouls, my people freak about outsiders doing anything major in our government.”

“Walker has his secret portals in and out of Antrum. No one would ever have to know.”

“There could be other problems, too.” My mouth starts talking without any conscious direction from my brain. “Quasis have inner demons. They can be hard to control. Maybe even frightening.”

“I’m not worried.” He leans in closer, his voice turning growly again. “Inner demons are rather intriguing, don’t you think?”

I pause, a realization appearing in my mind. “We’ve stopped talking about Alchemy, haven’t we?”

“Yes. I believe we’ve begun discussing your inner lust demon.”

Crap, I think he’s right. Somewhere between Walker’s portals and the words ‘don’t you think?’ I totally segued onto my adjustment issues with my inner lust demon. As in, I’m actively avoiding dealing with her presence.

Lincoln nuzzles my ear. “You haven’t shown her to me since the night of the ball in Purgatory.”

“Yup.” For a reason. That was the night of the infamous ‘hedgerow maze incident’. Whenever my inner lust demon gets out, she makes me go nuts and do crazy stuff. On that fateful night, I almost stripped down naked and tackled Lincoln in a hedgerow maze, with all of thrax nobility hanging out at a Ball nearby. That sure was classy.

Lincoln shifts his weight, so his upper thigh presses between my legs from behind. “I’d like to see that part of you again, when you’re ready.”

And, yow, that feels good. I start to reconsider my avoidance strategy. Maybe my lust demon and I only need to spend more time together. After all, Lincoln and I see each other so rarely, and then mostly in public. Not a lot of bonding opportunities, there.

From across the mansion, I hear the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Someone’s home. Huh. Can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Myla, is that you?”

I cup my hand by my mouth. “Yeah, Mom. I’m in the kitchen.”

Dad’s voice sounds next. “We brought pizza!”

Lincoln nips my ear with his teeth, sending one last shiver of desire down my belly. “We’ll have to continue this discussion later.” He steps away and leans against the opposite counter. We share an awkward smile while my inner lust demon coils and fumes inside my soul. She isn’t happy about this situation. Not one bit.

But for now, there’s nothing either of us can do about it.