Scala

Chapter 3

3

I pace the dusty floor of an abandoned auto plant in Middle Purgatory. Lincoln’s note was most specific. Any second now, he’ll show up so we can kill us a Durus demon, a metal-loving monster that I’ve never had the fun of skewering before. Nice. After the unpleasantness with Adair at the Ghost Tower, I could sure use the break.

I scan the dimly-lit factory, my senses on high alert for any sign of the Durus. All I find is a huge building whose tiled floor is covered in a maze of winding conveyor belts. Random auto parts are stacked into towering piles. No Durus, though.

Bummer.

A strange noise sounds a few feet behind me: a low half-cough.

Spinning about, I find a familiar outline waiting for me in the shadows. Someone tall with broad shoulders, military bearing, and a mop of loose brown hair. His black body armor has the Rixa eagle crest emblazoned on his chest. Even in the pale light, I can see his mismatched irises: one’s wheat brown, while the other’s slate-gray. Joy bubbles through my chest.

Rushing over, I wrap my arms around Lincoln’s neck, my tail swaying contentedly behind me. He tightens our embrace, his body feeling all warm and firm against mine. I inhale a long breath, catching his yummy scent of forest pine and leather. A deep part of me, some place that always feels lost and empty without him, starts to overflow with his touch and love. I nuzzle my head into his shoulder. “Lincoln.”

“Hello, Myla.” Lincoln leans back and eyes me from head to toe. The intensity of his gaze makes me suddenly self-conscious of how I look in my Scala robes. Curvy figure, full mouth, bright blue eyes and long auburn hair that hangs in waves down my back. He pulls me close once again. “You look lovely.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I am a big fan of his black body armor. Yum.

Lincoln rests his left hand against my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin in gentle arcs. “It’s been too long.”

“Another busy week for both of us.”

I rule the quasi-demons of Purgatory while Lincoln does the same with the thrax of Antrum. Our two realms could literally not be farther apart, or more complex to manage. We’re lucky if we catch each other for an hour or two each week. And if Walker says he won’t schlep us around anymore with his secret ghoul portals, we won’t even have that. Today’s a rare occurrence, an official visit from Antrum using transfer stations. Normally, it takes days to get all the paperwork and approvals, even for royalty. Demon-related stuff gets special treatment.

“I missed you, too.” I slowly raise my mouth to his. Lincoln’s lips are soft and warm. My body goes tingly all over. I feel like someone who hasn’t breathed easily in ages and then, inhales pure oxygen.

Lincoln presses his forehead to mine. “What’s going on? Cissy’s message said it was urgent.”

There’s a lot to tell, but I’ll hit the most important topic first. “Remember how I thought Walker had almost found Lucifer’s Orb?”

“I remember. Wasn’t he digging up a crypt last week?”

“Yup.”

Lucifer was the King of the Angels; he even outranked Dad. Then, the guy went nuts and got imprisoned. His Crown holds angelic magic, while his Orb contains demonic power. Man, I want that thing out of my backyard.

I shake my head. “Walker’s been tracking down leads on the Orb for months. We really thought this crypt was the end of the line. But all Walker found inside was a coffin with a riddle carved inside.”

“What did the riddle say?”

“Walker’s working on it.” My voice lowers to a whisper. “I’ve no idea when we can restart Soul Processing. And in the meantime, the Cloud Carriers are getting more packed every day. I won’t send those innocents to Hell, though. I can’t.”

Lincoln examines me carefully. “There’s something else bothering you, though.”

Wow. He nailed that one, for sure. Despite my worries, a warm and happy feeling rolls down to my toes. No one reads me the way Lincoln does.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice is low, soft and comforting.

“Adair is getting worse, too. Today, she launched an official investigation about the overcrowding in our Carriers. If Purgatory finds out those Towers could blow, my people will lose it.”

Lincoln rakes his left hand through his mop of brown hair. “This is all my fault. Adair’s been asking me to play King and Queen since we were kids. I should never have even considered a marriage contract with her. Mother warned me not to, but their damned army—”

“Hey, there’s more to the Adair-problem than just you. Look at Verus. She’s the Queen of the Angels and a freaking oracle. You’d think she’d have known better than to give Adair a sham initiation as Scala Heir. But she did, complete with Gianna using witchcraft to create fake igni. Now, Adair is saying that the ceremony was real.”

Lincoln’s quiet for a while, his eyes lost in thought. “Tell you what.” He tightens his grip around my waist. “I’m staying.”

“Here? In Purgatory?” Official visits are typically less than an hour. “How long?”

“As long as it takes. This is serious, Myla. We should tackle it as a team.”

That awesome warm-happy-tingly feeling rolls through me again, only even stronger this time. I wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re amazing.”

Lincoln whispers in my ear. “How about we go kill this thing, then head over to your house?”

“You and Cissy are spoiling me today.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve made a really brave choice to stand by those souls. You’re carrying a huge responsibility right now. This is the least I can do. Cissy feels the same way.”

A great roar echoes through the darkened factory, breaking the moment. The cry is so deep and powerful, bits of dingy wall-glass tumble from their rusted window frames.

Hellooooo, Durus demon.

Battle energy careens through my muscles. “You’re right. Let’s go take down this Durus.”

I snap into fighting mode, my mind zooming through different approaches and scenarios. “How about we start with long-swords, and then finish with a net?”

“Excellent.”

We take out our baculum, igniting the silver rods as long-swords made of angelfire. Once the flames begins to crackle, the threads of my Scala robes instantly realign into white battle armor. I have to admit, dynamic robe re-alignment is one of the cooler benefits of being the Great Scala.

Before us, garbage heaps scrape across the floor, combining into a larger shape.

“Guess someone’s decided to come to us,” says Lincoln.

“So thoughtful for a demon.”

On the ground nearby, the trash-pile shifts at a faster rate: melting, reforming, rising. The sour smell of burned rubber and engine grease fills the air. Within seconds, the metal refuse resolidifies as a massive man that’s eight feet tall and almost as broad.

The Durus is here.

The demon’s arms are a mash-up of jackhammers and belt riveters. It stands on legs made of massive steel beams; strange smokes and acids spew from its torso of engine parts. The head’s the nastiest bit of all, a crazy mix of punch-needles and round-saws with crushed-glass eyes and a huge, gaping mouth full of moving-piston teeth.

My breath catches. I have to admit, this thing is way cool.

The Durus speaks in a deep and rusty voice. “Leave my lair.”

Lincoln moves into battle stance: feet wide apart, his long-sword raised high. “That’s not going to happen, buddy.”

With lightning speed, the demon raises its arm to strike Lincoln. I get ready to leap into a counter-attack. However, the demon does something unexpected. It stops, actually freezing in place for a few seconds. After that, its crushed-glass eyes begin to glow with demonic fire.

Lincoln and I share a confused look. That’s strange. Durus demons are one of the few breeds whose eyes don’t light up.

The Durus rounds on me. “Show me how you move souls, Great Scala.” With clunky movements, he rips a length of conveyor belt off the floor and chucks it at me; I easily leap out of the way. The broken machinery lands on the floor with a room-shaking crash. The Durus takes a lumbering step closer. “Fight me like you fought Armageddon.”

I frown, considering. Two months ago, I blasted Armageddon and his ghoul cronies out of Purgatory. It took a bit to figure out my brand-spanking-new igni power, but eventually, I trapped the King of Hell in a Soul Column. I can still picture him howling with bone-crunching rage as he plummeted under the earth, to be forever locked into Hell. Fun times.

Beside me, Lincoln speaks in a low voice. “Your call, Myla. If you send him back to Hell, he’ll be locked down there forever, but he’ll still be alive.”

“That’s true.” However, I can’t move any souls right now, so I’ve been itching to use my igni. “But I could use the practice with my powers.” I turn to the demon. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

I raise my arms high above my head. Closing my eyes, I reach out with my thoughts to the dark igni, the tiny bolts of power and light that transport evil souls to Hell. Come to me, my little ones. Instantly, their grating voices fill my mind, a cacophony of rasps and whispers that only I can hear.

Opening my eyes, I watch the tiny white lightning bolts materialize before my outstretched palms. More come into existence, soaring and diving about my hands like tiny silver fish. Soon, hundreds have arrived, their bodies making intricate flow-patterns that wind up my arms.

My sweet igni. A sense of peace and power rolls through me. I am the Great Scala, and this is what I’m meant to do.

Sensing the igni’s power, the Durus leans back on its heels, beating his chest with his great fists. Opening his piston-mouth, the demon lets out another ear-splitting roar.

At the sound of this cry, my inner wrath demon kicks into high gear, electrifying my nervous system with rage. Time to go home, buddy. I lower my arms and command the igni to slide onto the floor and create a Soul Column, the vehicle that will send the Durus to Hell.

Only, the igni don’t move.

I frown, my forehead creased with confusion. This can’t be right.

The igni keep whirling around my arms. Inside my head, they start rasping out an odd song that makes me wince. I catch the words ‘dragon’ and ‘must get’ in there, but otherwise, it’s a bunch of nonsense.

I mentally command the igni with more force. It makes no difference. Their voices keep chattering away in their strange cacophony, their sounds faster and harsher by the second. Finally, I resort to speaking out loud, something I’ve never had to do before.

“I order you! Send the Durus to Hell!”

In reply, the igni’s song turns furious in its intensity. I’ve no idea what they’re saying anymore, only that the sounds are super-painful to hear. I set my hands over my ears. “Enough!”

Instantly, the igni disappear. It takes me a full minute to regain my focus and senses. Damn, those dark igni can take over your brain when they want to.

I scan the factory floor for Lincoln. He’s fighting the Durus, and probably has been for some time. The demon’s now missing a riveter-arm; half its face is gone. The Durus swings its remaining band-saw arm at Lincoln, who leaps away while changing his baculum into a net of white flame. Tossing it high, Lincoln encases the demon in his angelfire web.

A pause follows. In a moment that lasts forever, Lincoln and the Durus stare at each other. The demon’s face droops with an unasked question: what can this thrax possibly do with a net?

In one swift movement, Lincoln cinches the net-cords into a tight ball. The angelfire strands are razor-sharp, tearing easily through the demon, slicing its metal body into thousands of tiny shards. The bits tumble to the floor, softly jingling as they fall. The place where the demon once stood is now a shredded pile of scrap metal.

The Durus is dead.

I should cheer, but I’m still a little freaked out my impromptu igni concert.

Lincoln steps up to my side. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My igni wouldn’t listen to my commands, though. They were singing some kind of message to me instead. Weird.” I punch his upper arm. “By the way, nice job, you.”

“I’ve fought Durus before. Normally, they’re incredibly fast. The eyes shouldn’t light up, either. Something was wrong with this one.” He frowns, resetting his baculum into their holster on his thigh. “Not that there’s anything wrong with an easy battle every once in awhile.” A crafty look lights up his eyes. “Ready to head out? I want to hear all about what’s going on.”

Happiness bubbles up inside me. That’s right. Lincoln’s staying for days now. Awesome. Whatever other plans I had, I’m clearing my schedule and enjoying our time together. I take his hand in mine and head for the door.

Betsy’s still waiting outside.