Whatever I feel, whatever powers are within me, I throw it all at Armageddon. I save no corner of my soul for trips to magic users who may strip my igni powers, for becoming the old Arena fighter again, or for a future where I’m anything but the Great Scala. I am this fight.
I call to the igni, and they careen down from the clouds in a great flood, wiping away Armageddon’s column of hellfire. My bindings disappear. The ghostly woman falls free to the ground. White lightning bolts envelop the King of Hell, pulling him down the very pit he created by my feet. Armageddon claws at the sand as his body is yanked away. His eyes glow bright red as he disappears into the darkness.
He’s gone. I sent Armageddon to Hell. My body hums with excitement. I turn to the miserable spirit, ordering the igni to guide her soul. They swirl and dive in a great mass as they wrap about her, carrying her into the clouds and Heaven. Their child-like laughter rings in my ears. After that, everything turns silent.
I find myself back at the Gray Sea, standing on the top ridge above the bunker entrance. One thought ricochets through mind: Armageddon is gone.
I let out a long breath. My arms drop to my sides. The desert wind whips through my hair. Above me, harmless gray smog replaces the angry storm clouds. My legs turn boneless beneath me. I’m dimly aware that Cissy, Zeke, Mom, and Xavier stand nearby. I wobble in place. It’s over. Lincoln’s arms wrap about me as I collapse. All becomes darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For what feels like an eternity, my dreams are empty and cold. Occasional sights and odd voices break through the void: Mom sponging sweat from my forehead…Cissy holding my hand…Lincoln gently kissing my closed eyes. Someone says “She’s past the worst of it.”
I wake up in my own bed. My brain is hazy. I stagger to my feet and peer out the window. Half the houses on our street are burned-out husks. The demons were here too.
The world whitens around the edges of my vision; I grip the windowsill.
“What are you doing?” The voice is familiar.
I squint but can’t focus. “Mom?”
“Yes, it’s me.” She races to my side. Her arms grip my shoulders, guiding me back into bed. “What are you doing up?”
My head touches the pillow. I curl into a fetal position. “I didn’t know where I was.” I feel so cold, my teeth chatter. I try to open my eyes but can’t.
Mom pulls the blanket up to my shoulders. “You’re home, Myla.”
Suddenly, my brain jolts back into focus, my eyes open wide. I grip Mom’s hand. “What happened after I sent the demons back to Hell? Where are the ghouls?”
Mom gently brushes hair from my face. “The demons have stayed in Hell. The ghouls have kept their word to patrol our borders.” She smiles. “You did it, Myla. Verus is preparing a summit in three weeks’ time. Angels, ghouls, quasis, and thrax will all meet to discuss the terms of the new government.”
“Where’s Xavier?”
“Safe, thanks to you.” She pats my hand. “Close your eyes, Myla-la. Everything’s fine.”
I roll onto my side and smile. “I did it.” Something glitters on my dresser. I heave myself up onto my elbows. “What’s that?”
Mom picks up the shiny whatever-it-is and hands it to me. “It’s a gift from Lincoln.” Two silver rods rest on my palms.
“These are Lincoln’s baculum.” My fingertips run over the intricately carved runes that cover the surface. “I can’t believe he gave me them.”
“He was with you day and night until the healers declared you were out of danger. Then he had to return to Antrum. He left the baculum and asked me to remind you of your promise to Nat. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, I do.” I told Lincoln’s Master at Arms that I would practice with the sword for an hour a day. Now I can do it in style. Smiling, I slip the baculum under my pillow.
Mom rises to her feet. “You better get some sleep now, Myla.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” My eyes waver and close. I fall into a deep sleep and dream of the Gray Sea. I stand on a long stretch of rolling charcoal dunes under low silver sky. The wind whips the sand and my nightgown. Verus stands nearby, her robes and wings gleaming bright-white against the drab landscape. I’m torn between wanting to run up and hug her or kick her in the kneecaps. Tough call.
“Hello, Myla.”
“Hi, Verus.”
The lead angel looks to the horizon. Her long black hair cascades over her shoulders in a perfect arc. “I do love the Gray Sea.” She turns to me, her almond-shaped eyes flaring blue.
“I noticed.” My bare toes dig into the warm sand. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“And why is that?”
“Part of me wants to thank you. Your dreamscapes helped my relationship with Mom and got me ready to become the Scala. But another part of me? I don’t know. It’s like I’m a pawn in some game of yours that I don’t understand.”
“You mean Lincoln.”
“Yes.”
“You two don’t look unhappy. I should think you’d find each other irresistible.”