“There’s more cool stuff here.” Raising his hand, Walker flips to another map. This one shows the bunker’s interior. “There’s an antechamber and a main room inside. Both places have enough food, water, and clothing to last a few months at least. The main chamber also has a communications console and a periscope to the desert floor.”
Walker points to Cissy and Zeke. “Once you open the bunker doors and get inside, Tim will create a portal to take you home.” Walker turns to my mother. “Meanwhile, Camilla will set up the communications console so we’re connected to the outside world. Myla, Lincoln, and I will meet you in the main chamber at 6 AM.” Walker sets his long arms into the folds of his robe. “I believe that covers everything. Any questions?”
Only about a million. Where will the angels send me to hide? What happens if Armageddon invades Purgatory? When will I see Lincoln, my friends, and family again? And, my new personal favorite: Can we get someone else to be the Scala Heir?
Every muscle in my body overflows with nervous energy. I stare at my hands, opening and closing them over and over.
Walker clears his throat. “Myla?”
I snap out of my thoughts and look up. “Yeah?” That’s when I realize it. Everyone in the room stares at me, and probably has been for some time. A flush creeps up my neck. Am I supposed to give a speech or something? This Scala Heir stuff is total bullshit. “I mean, what was the question again?”
Mom tilts her head to one side, her expression gentle. “Are we ready to go?”
Oh, I didn’t realize that was my call. I slap on what I hope is a super-confident face. “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go. Cissy, Zeke, Tim, and Mom open the bunker. Walker, Lincoln, and I go the Arena. Then Walker takes me to the bunker. Yeah.”
Dammit. I remember the awful speech I gave to Lincoln at the fountain. That one looks like genuine oratory compared to the nugget of crap that just fell from my lips.
Lincoln slips his warm hand into mine. “Together, we can do anything, Myla.”
I inhale a deep breath. I hope so, Lincoln.
***
I stumble out of the portal, landing in one of the Arena’s darkened archways. Light flickers in from the stadium floor, casting odd shadows on the rock walls. Lincoln and Walker step out next, appearing a few feet behind me.
The Prince sets his hand on Walker’s shoulder. “Before we go further, I want to thank you for taking such good care of Myla and her mother. I only asked you to deliver a few messages, and you’ve gone above and beyond.”
My heart warms. Walker’s always so awesome and I never thank him enough. Stepping up to his side, I arch my feet onto my tippy-toes and kiss him gently on the cheek. “I can’t believe it, this could be our last Arena match together.” I look up at the ceiling, trying to calculate. “The first time you snuck me in here was, what, eight years ago?” I smile, remembering how Walker portaled me in on the sly, saying in that low voice of his: ‘you may be called to serve one day.’ Together, we watched a Viperon demon fight. I was instantly hooked.
Stepping backwards, I rock on my heels, smiling at the memory. Then I realize that it’s quiet in the hallway. Waaaaaaay too quiet.
Walker and Lincoln face one another, their expressions unreadable. There’s a long pause accentuated by gentle pit-pat of condensation off the uneven stone.
Huh. What’s going on here?
I thunk my palm onto my forehead. “I forgot, you know each other too. How did that happen?” I smile. Story-telling time! Nice distraction.
Lincoln keeps staring at Walker and not saying anything. The temperature in the hallway becomes decidedly chilly. Something’s up.
Walker turns to me. “You remember how my great-grandmother was an archangel?”
I nod. “Mom told me about it ages ago.”
“She’s the archangel Aquila,” says Walker. “She also founded the House of Rixa. Lincoln and I are both members of the Aquilinea, a society for the descendants of Aquila.”
I chuckle. “I should start a society for the descendants of Xavier. It’ll give me something to do when I’m alone.” I look between Lincoln and Walker, waiting for a response. That wasn’t my best joke, but how about a courtesy laugh for the girl heading into an Arena death match? Speaking of that, my insides squirm with anxiety. The fight should start in a few minutes.
Walker’s face is still as stone. “Your mother forbade me to mention my personal history, so I’ve respected her wishes. Now, however, it’s time you knew about the Aquilinea.”
“Thanks.” My head bobs from side to side. “That explains why Octavia and Lincoln trusted you with their messages.” I picture the ghouls who sometimes accompany Verus to matches; I always thought some of them looked like Walker. Must be Aquilinea as well. I glance out to the Arena floor. Maybe I’ll see one of them out there today? The thought should be comforting, but it isn’t. Thinking about the stadium only ratchets up my nerves.