Whoa. I’ll turn into some rule-loving nincompoop one day. I shiver, fight the sense of nausea in my stomach, and return my attention to the book. A section called Group Think catches my eye.
Mature ghouls are not isolated organisms like other unfortunate creatures. They share a single consciousness led by the most perfect of our kind, the Oligarchy. This superior form of connected living is called Group Think. Thanks to it, the thoughts of our great leaders constantly pulse through the minds of every ghoul.
I snap the book shut with a sneer. Someday I’ll have the Oligarchy in my head 24-7? That sucks with a capital ‘S.’ Maybe I’m better off not knowing my heritage.
Footsteps sound from the other side of the Library. “You’ll find her in here, your Highness.”
My stomach spirals with shock. There aren’t a lot of your Highnesses running around Purgatory. Suddenly, Cissy and Zeke’s offer of the library makes perfect sense. Those little creeps. Okay, it was totally sneaky of me to hit the thrax compound with every intention of causing trouble. But Cissy and Zeke are being pretty sneaky here, too. If they want me to play nice with others, an ambush isn’t the way to do it.
“Thank you.” The voice is definitely Lincoln’s. I can tell by his clipped tone that I’m in for it. Ugh.
I re-open the Libra Ghoul and pretend to be super-interested. Footsteps march in drum-roll rhythm across the library floor, then pause nearby. I look up. Lincoln stands before me in his leather pants and velvet tunic, his mismatched eyes glowering. A jolt of adrenaline races through my bloodstream.
Bring it on.
“Hello, Miss Lewis.” He sets his feet apart; his broad shoulders stiffen. Battle stance.
“Hello, Mister The Prince.”
“I had an official audience with the Ghoul Minister today. It seems he didn’t approve your delivering his message.”
I close my book. “And?”
“So, you admit you raided the thrax compound without authorization?”
I tap my cheek. “So, you admit that a lowly quasi girl successfully raided your super-awesome demon-hunter compound?”
“Your actions were rude and startling. The Lords were not prepared.”
I sniff. “They were wearing chain mail, carrying weapons, and in the middle of battle training. I call that a fair fight.”
He shakes his head from side to side. “My men don’t expect strange girls in unitards to appear out of nowhere.”
I raise my pointer finger. “One, it’s a dragon-scale fighting suit, not a unitard.” I raise another digit. “Two, what exactly do they expect girls to do when they’re attacked? Half the best Arena fighters are women.”
“That’s not how it is in Antrum.”
“What’s an Antrum?”
“Where I live, where all thrax live. Back on Earth, deep underground.”
“That makes sense. Not knowing girls fight; it figures you all live under a rock.”
Closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath. “No one speaks to me like that.” A muscle twitches along his jaw.
My eyes narrow. He’s not the only one who doesn’t like back-talk. “Welcome to Purgatory.”
“The Earls demand you attend a tournament of demon fighting prowess to celebrate the autumnal equinox. As senior members of the thrax nobility, they will battle on the field of honor.”
“Humph.” No way am I joining that sausage party. They can prove their manliness on their own time. “Sounds like a ‘we’ll show her’ kind of thing.”
“The Lords have a right to display their skills under traditional circumstances.”
“Well, there’s one thing they need to do first.”
Lincoln folds his arms over his chest. “And what’s that, in your experience?”
“Say. Please.”
The Prince rakes one hand through his brown hair. “Disrespectful.”
He thinks I’m disrespectful? “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”
Lincoln inhales slowly, his fists open and close. Turning on his heel, he stomps away. Leaning back in my perch, I lace my fingers over my belly and watch him retreat. He’s got a strong back, long arms roped with muscle, and a bottom half that does justice to those black leather pants. Though the front side of him is pretty tasty, too. His mouth, I must say, is particularly yummy-looking.
Whoa there. I should not stare lustily at snobby Princes. Come to think of it, since when do I stare lustily at guys, period? I shake out my hands and shift my head from side to side. That fight threw me out of whack, big time.
I hop to my feet, a broad grin rounding my mouth. That fight threw me out of whack because I WON. I’m so proud of my bad-self, I almost dance out of the library and down the steps, mentally replaying every word of my verbal ass-whooping. I reach the reception hall and freeze.
Cissy and Zeke stand by the front door and, dang, they look mighty peeved. Again.
Cissy sets her fists on her hips. “The thrax High Prince just left his meeting with the Ghoul Minister. He was not happy.”
I put on my innocent face and blink. “What makes you say that?”
Cissy frowns. “He just blew past us.”