Angelfire

3. Lincoln

3

LINCOLN

I step out on stage. The Eminence cavern is packed. The scent of cold sweat and high anticipation hangs in the air. Thrax rarely get the chance to let loose. The crowd’s excitement envelops me, pressing in from all sides. I should focus on their energy. Still, I keep thinking about what Father said.

I vow to visit Juno.

Does that mean Father is visiting his mother’s grave somewhere on Earth… or is Juno still alive?

The moment that last thought hits me, I dismiss it. Father is right. There’s no such thing as ghosts. And Connor’s always talking about how his perfect mother died in childbirth. According to Father, if Juno had lived, she’d be a proper queen, just like Octavia.

Raedwulf is still having an off-day, that’s all. If anything, Connor’s playing along.

Best to get the show started.

I move to stand at center stage. “Greetings, I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax, and Master of Ceremonies for this year’s Achilles Festival!”

The audience lets out a roar of approval. I raise my hands in a signal for them to fall silent, which they do in record time. Clearly, everyone is cranked up for this year’s fun.

A thin voice rises from the back of the cavern.

“Phantasms are fake! Achilles is a loser!”

That tone is unmistakable. It’s Melvin, our annual heckler in residence. Every year, Melvin talks trash and the crowd loves it. I shield my eyes and make an exaggerated show of scanning the Eminence. “Melvin? Is that you?”

No reply.

More excitement zings through the air. I repeat his name, only longer this time. “Meeelviiiiiin.”

The audience cheers. They love it when I play straight man to a kook.

Once the crowd dies down, Melvin pipes up. “This is a scam! I won’t shut up until this festival closes down.”

“Look,” I begin. “I know you don’t believe in Ghost World. But the crowd is here and you’re spoiling the fun. Can you stop the commentary?”

Melvin plays up his reply. “I dooooon’t knoooooooow.”

The crowd takes up a chant. “Melvin! Melvin! Melvin!”

“All right, all right!” Melvin’s cries carry over the crowd. Everyone falls silent once more.

I continue. “Now that we’re all happy, let’s begin the show! This ceremony celebrates the battle of Achilles of Acca against Hades the Conjurer.”

Someone blows a raspberry. It’s Melvin.

I shield my eyes again. “Sound effects count as commentary, Melvin. Am I understood?”

“Oops,” calls Melvin. “My bad.”

That ends the Melvin the Heckler part of the show. I readdress the audience. “As I was saying, the after-realms are made up of angels in Heaven, demons from Hell, quasis in Purgatory—”

“Where’s Raedwulf?” It’s Melvin again. This question is most definitely not part of our agreed-to banter.

An electric kind of quiet moves over the crowd. Everyone is thinking the same thing as Melvin. On reflex, I glance at the stage door. It still isn’t open. Too many minutes have passed. If Raedwulf were coming out, he would have done so by now.

Somehow, I know he never will.

“Raedwulf isn’t with us yet.” The tension from the crowd becomes palpable. Everyone’s holding their breath.

Five seconds pass.

Ten.

Surely, if Raedwulf were fine, he’d march through the door. Or my parents would join me on stage, if for no other reason than to inform the crowd that Raedwulf is fine.

But none of that is happening. My heart cracks. I know the truth down to my soul. After four hundred years, Raedwulf is gone. I turn to face the crowd once more.

“We’re all part of one family here,” I state. “Thrax are a single community that protects humans from demons… and each other from pain. Raedwulf believed in this ceremony as a way to share joy. It’s like he says to each of us, don’t take life too seriously. Laugh at a few ghosts.”

The tension in the air eases into something else. The crowd is with me on this. I smile. “Let’s finish out this festival with a light heart. For Raedwulf.”

Even after all that, some corner of me hopes I’m wrong. On reflex, I glance back at the stage door.

It’s still closed.

This is really happening. For a moment, my legs seem boneless. I force myself to picture Raedwulf. This is for him. It’s what he’d want. I take a deep breath, stiffen my stance, and continue.

“Moving on,” I begin. “As I was saying, the after-realms have Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. But I have not yet listed the Dark Lands, which is home to ghoul kind. And last but not least, there is our own realm of Antrum. We thrax are part-angel warriors who protect humans from demons. Our caverns were settled a thousand years ago when the great thrax, Achilles, defeated the conjurer, Hades. It is for this reason we celebrate this festival each year.”

That may seem blabby, but it’s actually a boiled-down version—Raedwulf and I decided to get to the good stuff fast.

“There are two parts for today’s event,” I declare. “First, we’ll reenact the Battle of Achilles and Hades. Second, our celebration will be accepted by the otherworldly powers of the Eminence. And how will we know this? Beams of light will brighten the eyes of the head above me.” I gesture toward the skull in question.

Normally, there’s a gasp when I mention the beams of light stuff. But no one makes a sound this time. I’m rolling with it. After all, this light show is nothing more than an old illumination spell. If the audience isn’t worried, then I’m not explaining anything.

“We’ll begin with the Battle of Achilles and Hades. For this reenactment, I shall play Hades. Do we have anyone from the House of Acca in the audience today?”

A woman waves her arms. “My second cousin’s uncle’s cleaning lady is from Acca. Does that count?”

“Absolutely.”

Every year, it’s always the second cousin’s uncle’s cleaning lady who gets chosen to go on stage, along with her partner. This woman has been working with Raedwulf on the sly to prepare for today. Like Melvin, it’s all a plant.

The woman keeps waving. “My husband can play the magical skull, too.”

“In that case, you’re both hired.” I gesture toward stage left. “The stairs are over here.”

The woman and her husband soon join me onstage. Both have cocoa-dark skin and mismatched eyes. The man’s head is shaved, while the woman has long braids. The emblem of the House of Horus adorns both of their clothing. Beyond that, two more attributes become clear. First, they’re very much in love. Second, she’ll soon have a child.

A pang of longing tightens across my chest. My people wed early and start families fast. Nothing is more important to us. Sadly, my marriage will be for political gain, not love. It strikes me that I’ll never look upon my wife this way.

I realize I’ve been staring for too long. “Right.” I rub my palms together. “Let the reenactment begin!”

The woman pumps her fist in the air. “I am Achilles. At last, my people are ready to leave the Earth’s surface and move into the safety of Antrum.” She goes to cross the stage. I move to block her path.

“Mwah hah hah. Not so fast, Achilles. I am Hades, a conjurer of ghosts. I don’t want you to enter Antrum. It is mine!”

The woman sets her fist on her hip. “Why do you want Antrum?”

“It’s lousy with ghosts,” I reply.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re misinformed.” She sighs. “But you’re also blocking my way. What shall I do?”

The husband sets his palms on either side of his face and pulls back his skin. This gives him a very skull-like appearance. The crowd cheers their heads off. They love this bit.

“Greetings,” says the husband. “I am the Doyen, the magical skull that rules the Eminence cavern. I come from another dimension. If you can convince Hades to fight a tournament in my cave, then I can put him into exile for a thousand years.”

“Thanks, babe.” The woman kisses her husband on the cheek, then turns to me. “Oh Hades, you want all the supposed ghosts in Antrum?”

I wink. “You know it.”

“Then fight me in the Eminence cavern. If you win, you’ll become the ruler of Antrum… and you can have whatever ghosts are in our realm.”

I pump my fist in the air. “I’m in!”

“Here are the rules,” says the fake Doyen. “I shall place you both inside an invisible and magical dome. You may use traditional thrax battle tactics. No magic. Whoever gets the other to yield first, wins!”

“Oh, wow.” The woman sets her hands on either side of her face and makes her mouth into an ‘o’ shape. “Hades isn’t a thrax warrior. I am.” She steps up and punches me in the jaw. Pretty good hit, too.

I pinwheel my arms before falling on the ground. “I yield!”

The husband throws his hands up in the air. “Achilles wins!”

I rise to stand. “Oh, no. Now, I’m exiled for a thousand years… and that’s the end of our little play.” I gesture toward the couple. “Let’s hear it for today’s volunteers!”

The crowd cheers. I turn around to focus on the massive wall-skull. Normally, this is the part where the eye sockets light up a little more brightly. It’s not a big deal, but it closes out the show.

Only nothing happens.

I turn back to the audience. “The eyes should brighten in a bit. We just have to be patient.” I pause for a minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

Restless grumbles erupt from the crowd. A baby starts screaming its lungs out. This is not going well.

“Look,” I announce. “There’s no need for everyone to stand around. The skull has been enchanted to blaze its eyes once a year. We might have gone through the ceremony too quickly. You’re all free to go. I’ll wait until things completely finish.”

My co-conspirators still stand nearby. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” asks the husband.

I picture Raedwulf. Somehow, I’m able to speak past the cords of grief that tighten around my throat. “Positive.”

I cross the stage to thank the couple and wish them well on their first child. They leave the Eminence, as does Melvin and the rest of the crowd.

One man does stop by the stage: the Earl of Kingsbury. He’s a bald and squat man with an overly long mustache. “I’m sure you know why I’m here,” he declares.

“You wish to thank me for setting up a scholarship in memory of your sons. You’re welcome.”

“No, I want my demon patrol territory back. You gave it to the House of Leone.”

“The seal was from my Father.”

“I know it was you.”

I size up the earl. He’s a bland-looking man who places too much stock in keeping a demon patrol territory that’s way large for his house. Despite being forbidden, Kingsbury sent his untrained twin sons onto patrol. They died at thirteen years old.

“If you spoke of your twins first and patrol rounds second, I might have been tempted to change my mind. But you didn’t and I’m not.”

“My Prince—”

“I’m staying here to honor my grandfather,” I state solemnly. “You should go someplace to honor your sons.”

Kingsbury stares at me for a long moment. His button eyes glint with rage. Without another word, he stomps off into the darkness.

Good riddance.

With everyone gone, I sit onstage while leaning my back against the stone wall. More minutes tick by. With every passing moment, my eyelids feel heavier. Some part of me says it’s a risk to fall asleep now. More of me says that I won’t leave until the skull lights up.

This is about Raedwulf.

Suddenly, another figure steps out from the shadows. He’s seven feet tall with skin like striated wood. His stump-head is eyeless, but I somehow know he can still see me clearly. The monster speaks through a mouth of oversized fangs.

“Hello. I am Hades.”