Lincoln: Angelbound Book 2 with bonus novella, Duty Bound Read online

  I pull out another gum charm and tear open the wrapper. Letters appear on the treat inside, reading quasi-demon. Those are the part-demon, part-human residents of Purgatory. They process souls and do the bidding of their ruler, the ghouls.

  So, she’s a native of Purgatory. I suppose that’s better than being in the same general family as a Soul Slasher, but not by much. What does it mean that I still want to embrace this girl?

  The mystery girl runs off. For a long time, I can only stand and stare at the spot on the lake where she’d broken through the water’s surface. One thought echoes through my mind.

  Now that’s a girl I could be happy marrying.

  I take a half-step backward. What is happening to me? I don’t know how long it takes, but I eventually find the strength to turn away and make the long trek back to my cabin. One there, it takes me a while to fall asleep, and when I do, my dreams are all the same: I picture that girl as she leaps from the water, covered in demons and laughing.

  7

  The next afternoon, I wait in our official reception tent for Walker. The place is filled with tapestries, tables, and benches, along with the odd vase or sculpture. It’s supposed to be a place where nobility can socialize. That’s why I’d already scheduled some chess-time with Walker for this afternoon. However, after what happened last night with that demon girl? Now our meeting has taken on more importance.

  As a ghoul, Walker knows a lot more about Purgatory than I ever will. Surely, I will make a few quick queries about my mystery girl and then put all these obsessive thoughts to rest. Someone like me has no business spending so much time contemplating anyone who’s in the slightest bit demonic. It’s even worse, considering how I’m promised to Adair. A prince’s duty is to his people.

  At 2 p.m. on the nose, the hum of a ghoul portal sounds. A minute later, Walker steps through the door-size hole and into the tent itself. Spying me, he bows slightly at the waist. “Greetings, High Prince.”

  “You can call me Lincoln. We’re alone, and I’m definitely casual today.” I gesture across myself. Today, I’m wearing jeans and a When Doves Cry T-shirt. “You still want to play chess?”

  “Are we alone?” Walker scans the fancy tent. “Isn’t this tent normally reserved for nobles?”

  “I sent them off.”

  “What about your parents?” The way Walker tilts his head he already knows something is wrong here. He’s really too smart, that ghoul.

  “My parents are still traveling for their anniversary.”

  Walker takes the chair across from me and eyes the chessboard on the table between us. “You have something specific to discuss.”

  “Not really.” Damn, why did I have to say that so quickly? It sounds incredibly suspicious.

  “I’m always up for chess.” Walker tosses off his robe. Underneath, he’s wearing black jeans, funky boots, and a dark T-shirt. The pale skin gives him away as undead. Other than that, he looks somewhat goth.

  Walker lifts his arm and moves a pawn. I move a pawn as well. Walker shifts another pawn. I take out my queen.

  “Rather aggressive today.” Walker rubs his chin. “Sure there isn’t something on your mind?”

  “Well, you’re constantly doing secret projects all over the after-realms.”

  Walker chuckles. “That I am.”

  “Do you know anything about these Purgatory demon girls?” I’d ask specifically about one girl, but I don’t want Walker to think I’ve gotten attached to anyone. Because I haven’t. I’m simply doing research.

  Yes, that’s right. Research.

  Walker pauses before moving his queen. “They’re called quasi-demons, Lincoln. KWAH-zee. And they’re mostly human.” He eyes me carefully. “Although to thrax, I suppose human is about as bad as a demon, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t see the best side of humanity on demon patrol.” When thrax deal with humans, it’s because they’ve drawn some kind of demon into themselves, thanks to their own bad behavior. It’s up to the thrax to get rid of the demon before they start even more trouble. “And we don’t see the best side of demons, either.” I shiver, remembering the Soul Slasher.

  “Quasis are different.”

  “Those are the girls that have tails.”

  “So do the men. The angel Verus is trying to put together a diplomatic ball that includes angels, demons, thrax, and quasis. Perhaps your questions can wait until you can ask the locals yourself. I’m no expert in any kind of woman.”

  Walker is clearly noticing my interest in the female side of the quasi population. No point beating around the bush now.

  “The girls… Do any of them fight?”

  Walker’s hand falters; he doesn’t set down his knight. It’s rare for my friend to waver. Normally, Walker is an incredibly decisive player. “Depends how you define fighting.”

  “You know what I’m referring to.” My pulse goes at double speed. “Are any of them warriors like the thrax?”

  Walker finally sets down his knight again without saying another word. That’s a response in and of itself.

  “Talk to me, Walker.”

  “Yes, some quasi girls do fight.”

  “Do any of those fighters have dragonscale tails?”

  “How would I know?” Now it’s Walker’s turn to speak too quickly.

  “In other words, you do know.”

  Walker leans back in his chair and kicks out his legs. “Here’s the story. Purgatory is built to sort souls into Heaven or Hell. Most souls choose trial by jury.”

  “Got it.” I make a mental note to try to schedule some Purgatory orientation training for my nobles. And myself.

  “Correct, some call for trial by combat. Mostly, those are the souls who know they are bound for Hell and want to invade Heaven instead. Don’t you know any of this?”

  “I’m an expert in live demons, not dead humans. Please continue.”

  “Well, any soul with even a shred of goodness will ‘go angel’ once they hit Heaven. The purely evil ones won’t, and that could cause no end of destruction. So, the evil souls must be kept out at any cost.”

  “That’s why the evil spirits choose trial by combat and fight quasis.”

  “The battles are to the death in Purgatory’s Arena.”

  “And both male and female fighters do this?”

  Walker shakes his head. “I don’t like this line of questioning. How are your marriage negotiations going?”

  “Moving along.” I know what Walker is hinting at: I shouldn’t be interested in other women if I’m about to sign a nuptial contract. He’s not wrong.

  “Have you spent time with Lady Adair?”

  “We danced once the other night.”

  “Huh. Did you actually speak?”

  “You can’t believe the grilling I got just for dancing. You know how my parents feel about emotion in marriage.” I can’t help the edge to my voice. Unfortunately, the more I learn about my mystery girl, the less interested I am in marriage to a virtual stranger. That’s a problem.

  “They’re both very vocal on that point.” Walker folds his arms over his chest. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “You know me. I’m not truly interested in any girl. I’m merely asking questions so I understand the quasi population.” It’s a lie, but all in the name of research.

  Walker chuckles. “Fine. I’ll play along. What do you want to know?”

  Leaning forward, I set my elbows on my knees. “What’s the ratio of men to women fighters? I’m talking at the elite level, the ones who are really good.”

  “About equal between men and women.”

  “Do any of those elite lady demons have dragonscale tails?”

  “Again with dragonscale tails.” Walker shakes his head. “And they are quasis, not demons. I’ll ask you one more time. Are you having second thoughts about entering into a marriage contract with someone you’ve danced with once?”

  “I might be.” But not because of that demon girl.

  “Now th
ere, I can’t help you. I haven’t had good luck with matters of the heart.” Walker rubs his sideburns. “Let’s get back to the game.”

  Walker and I take turns moving our pieces, but I can’t process anything other than the news about quasi girls being elite warriors. I bet my mystery girl was one of those.

  Walker taps his long finger on the board. “It’s your move.”

  “It is?”

  “It has been for some time.”

  “Maybe I’m just not in the mood for chess.”

  “You think?”

  The image of that demon girl breaking free from the water keeps reappearing in my mind. It’s like my visual cortex is stuck on repeat mode. A question tumbles from my lips before I can stop myself. “Have you loved anyone, Walker?”

  “I love many people.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Have you loved a woman? Truly loved, I mean.”

  “No, my history is…complicated.” His voice turns thick with despair. “Not that I wouldn’t like for that to happen, but love isn’t in the cards for me.”

  “If you thought it might be possible…” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m babbling about this. Maybe we should just call it quits on chess.”

  Walker leans forward and grabs my wrist. The look on his face turns intense. “If I thought love might be possible, I’d fight for that with everything in me. I know you see the worst of the human and demon realms. You’ve watched too many of your fellow thrax get killed. Just…try to keep an open mind while you’re here.”

  “That’s the trouble. I can’t have an open mind. I’ve lost my mind. There’s this girl, okay? I keep thinking about her.”

  “A girl. A specific warrior girl. And she has a dragonscale tail?” Walker scrubs his hands over his face. “Forget what I said before. Just focus on Adair. Get to know her for more than two minutes in a row. I’m sure you’ll come to care for her. In a few months, you’ll be back to Antrum.”

  “So you don’t know anything.”

  “Zero.” Walker seems sincere, but I also happen to know for a fact that he’s a pretty good liar.

  “You swear?”

  Walker chuckles. “I know a lot of things, but why would I know some random quasi girl? You’re not making any sense.”

  I slump back into my chair. Walker’s right. “Apologies. I guess being here in Purgatory is making me unbalanced. I miss my home.”

  “It’s fine.” Walker rises and quickly creates a ghoul portal behind him. “We’ll finish the game later, right?”

  “Sure.”

  Long after Walker is gone, I can’t stop staring at the chessboard. It’s as if I’m trapped in some new kind of game, and I don’t know the players, least of all my own heart.

  And for a prince who prides himself on controlling his emotions, that’s a rather terrifying state of affairs.

  8

  After Walker leaves, I start doing…things. I believe reviewing paperwork and meeting with some of the Earls is involved. It’s all a jumble because I’m still massively distracted.

  My thoughts keep returning to my mystery girl.

  That night, it takes me a long while to fall asleep. Once I finally do, you’d think I’d get some reprieve from my blossoming obsession. But my dreams take me right back to her as well. We are at a formal ball. I wear my crown, tunic, chainmail, and boots. She’s dressed in a red thrax grown.

  And we’re dancing. With every sway and glance, more nerve endings in my body come alive. It’s unlike any dance I’ve ever shared before.

  In some ways, the dream feels so real. In others, it’s far too abstract. All my sensations are heightened. I can make out the hem of her gown. Feel her rib cage expand with each breath. Watch the candlelight cast flickering shadows over her lips.

  With all my heart, I want nothing more than to kiss her.

  Loud booms wake me from my sleep. Based on the shadows beyond my window shades, it’s still late at night. Could there be a thunderstorm? That’s awfully extreme for Purgatory. The most they get is a steady rain.

  My chest aches. I really didn’t want to wake up from that dream.

  The booming sounds again, only far more clearly this time. Someone is at the door, and based on the loud sound of their knocking, that particular someone is quite agitated indeed. I shake my head, forcing the sleep from my mind.

  Only one person enjoys pounding at my door at all hours. Aldred.

  His voice soon echoes through the closed door. “I know you’re in there, Lincoln. It’s high time you returned my books! You’ve had them for days!”

  I slip out of bed and pull on some flannel pajama bottoms. Sleeping in the nude is my norm, but there are some things it’s better for the Earl not to know. I slog over to the door and pull it open.

  “Really, Aldred? Is this necessary?”

  “You took those books without my permission, and now you’re refusing to return them.”

  In principle, I never condone stealing anything, but lives are at stake here. I shrug. “And?”

  “I want them back.”

  I start to close the door. “No.”

  Aldred jams his boot onto the threshold, blocking me. “Fine. Keep them.”

  “How very mature of you, Aldred.”

  “Know this. I figured out your little scheme. The Archer’s Moon. Anyone can ask for a duel, and it must be fulfilled. The winner can claim any boon from me.”

  “You don’t say.” It’s an effort to appear calm while my heart hammers in my throat. The Archer’s Moon is indeed the crux of my entire plan. Only, I need some way to ensure Aldred will keep his word. At the very least, that means witnesses outside the House of Acca. Trapping Aldred with the Archer’s Moon has become one of my more complex plans.

  “Well, I’ll have you know that the last Archer’s Moon took place on Earth when we killed the Soul Slasher.”

  I raise my pointer finger. “I don’t remember you taking any part in killing the Soul Slasher.”

  Aldred wags his thick finger at my nose. “I know your sneaky mind. You’re going to prevent my next achievement at the Archer’s Moon.”

  “How very good of you to wake me up in the middle of the night to share that theory.”

  “We just had an Archer’s Moon.”

  “I remember. It was only four days ago, remember? You murdered a hundred of your people at the event.”

  Aldred pulls out a small dagger from his waist. “Archer’s Moon or not, if you interfere with my command again, your life is mine. Execution, Lincoln. I will do it.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “It’s my ancient right to protect my demon hunting privileges. No one can take that from me, on pain of death. Even you. Having you marry my daughter isn’t the only way for me to gain the throne, you know.”

  Aldred has a manic gleam in his eyes. He thinks he has me cornered.

  Not a chance.

  I slam open the door, elbow him in the windpipe, and knock Aldred to the ground. “Pull a knife on me again and you’ll regret it.”

  Aldred chuckles, and there’s an unhinged edge to his laugh. “It’s over. You’re already dead, and you don’t know it. Haven’t you figured it out? You won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll keep trying to save my warriors, and you will step in one day and prevent my demon patrol rights. And that will be your downfall.”

  His words send a chill across my shoulders. “You’re purposely sending good warriors to their deaths just to goad me.”

  Aldred slowly hauls himself to his feet. “I’ll win in the end, little prince. Don’t forget it.” He slogs off into the darkness. With every step, the screams of those Acca warriors echo through my mind.

  So many have died just so Aldred can clear his way to the throne.

  If his goal was to enrage me, Aldred had done his job well. I can only hope I keep my focus enough to enact my full plan.

  I’ll save those warriors or die trying.

  9

  The days slowly tick b
y, and my mood doesn’t improve. Three days have passed since I saw the demon girl, and I’m trying to get back to my routine.

  And since my routine includes planning to end the Earl’s demon patrol rights, I’ve a very busy schedule. Everything will come together tonight, at the great event for the Acca warriors to show their prowess in hand-to-hand combat.

  The logical move now would be to re-read my stolen book on the Archer’s Moon, but that isn’t happening. Instead, I’m running through some modern-style documents from Purgatory and—much as I hate to admit this—checking the fighting schedules of quasi Arena warriors.

  In other words, the whole “focusing on my great secret scheme against Aldred” thing is a work in progress.

  Plus, these Purgatory documents are illegible. The ghouls give crazy names to the fighters. I lift the top sheet. Take this one, for example. The warrior is called Sharkey’s Bane ZX-64. How am I supposed to track down someone using such an arcane filing system?

  I should be more like Mother and cultivate a network of spies. Only, Mother’s spies are in Antrum, and I’d need some here in Purgatory.

  What am I thinking? I won’t be staying in Purgatory long enough to cultivate anything but an end to Aldred killing his own people. And that’s if I’m lucky.

  Father slams open my cabin door. On reflex, I hide the Purgatory docs and swap them out with some traditional thrax scrolls.

  “Greetings, Father. How was your trip?”

  “I’ve been to Heaven. Spending time with your mother is better.”

  Normally, I try not to roll my eyes at such a statement. But this morning? There’s a twinge in my chest. It feels a lot like jealousy.

  Father gestures to my table. “And what are you up to this morning?”

  “I’m just here, checking the latest grain mill treaties. Nothing to see.” That was horrible lying, but I have no choice but to keep going. “Would you like to review some scrolls with me?”

  “No, I’m sure it’s fine.” Father kicks the door shut behind him. “You’re an excellent ruler. Your tutors would be proud.” He purses his lips. “We’re to have a display of Acca warriors in close combat, I hear.”