I jump to my feet, gasping for breath, my head lolling from side to side as I look around the empty cathedral. “Where is everyone? Where’s Maxon?”
“Everyone’s fine, we evacuated them. I got scared when you wouldn’t wake up, so I sent them all away and waited here with you. I guess I lost my mind for a bit.”
I grip Lincoln’s hands in mine. Please let it have been a dream. A misunderstanding. Anything other than what happened.
“And Maxon?”
“He’s gone, Myla.” Lincoln’s voice catches. “Armageddon has him.”
If someone ripped my heart out of my rib cage, it couldn’t hurt worse than what I feel right now. My baby was taken. Lincoln and I fold into each other’s arms and weep.
Together, we cry for what feels like an eternity. Between sobs, I relate every detail of what happened with Armageddon and Hildy. Eventually, we both run out of tears and energy. My head leans into the crook of Lincoln’s shoulder, while his hands brush through my hair in long, soothing strokes. I want nothing more than to stand here forever, hiding inside the cathedral, holding Lincoln. I don’t want to face the reality of what happened to our son.
But my inner wrath demon stirs in my blood. Her cackling voice talks about fighting, freedom and vengeance. How Maxon is an innocent and no one’s better equipped to save him than Lincoln and me. She makes my fingers itch to grab a baculum and start kicking ass. “I’m going to kill him.” No question who ‘him’ is. Armageddon.
“You’ll have a lot of help.”
“They’ll all want a war now, you know. It’s no longer just a question of a pre-emptive strike.”
Lincoln shakes his head, unconvinced. “We’ll see. What they want and what they’ll get may not be the same thing.”
I try to wrap my head around the idea of all the after-realms clamoring for battle. It’s too much to contemplate after everything else that’s happened today. Instead, I focus on something I can understand. “Where’s Hildy?”
“She’s in the infirmary.”
“Has she said anything? Done anything?”
“Not that I know of, but I haven’t left your side since you fell.”
“Let’s go see her first. After that, we can hopefully get more information from the Striga Elders. Maybe once we know the full story, we’ll discover a peaceful way to get Maxon back. Perhaps a spell or something?”
“That’s the plan. With any luck, we’ll find out information from Father that will end all this quickly.”
A sad weight settles onto my shoulders. In these situations, Lincoln and I are rarely lucky.
Frantic knocks sound on the cathedral doors. “Are you alright in there?” It’s my mother. Suddenly, I can’t wait to see her face and share a hug.
I open the cathedral door to reveal a reception chamber that’s packed with family. Lincoln and I navigate through a flurry of hugs and tears from my parents, Cissy, Octavia, and Walker. Connor is noticeably absent, which is for the best. If I saw that guy right now, I’d snap his neck.
For a time, I comfort and am comforted. All the while, a small voice in my head cries that Maxon needs me to haul ass. Somewhere after the tenth hug, the little voice takes over; my mind clicks into warrior mode. Everything fades away except the desire to fight for Maxon’s life. Bottom line: hanging around here and hugging people isn’t helping my baby. Lincoln and I need to see Hildy.
I turn toward the exit. “We’ve got to go, guys.”
Mom wraps me in another deep hug. “Where are you off to? I’ll go with you.” She’s in overprotective-Mommy mode, not that I blame her. But I can’t get anything done when I have to deal with my mother’s über clingy-side.
“I know you want to help, Mom. And I appreciate that, really. But right now, Lincoln and I are going to see Hildy, and we have to do it alone.”
Mom dabs under her eyes with her fingertips, but it does nothing to fix the streaks of mascara pooled there. “Hildy? Is that Maxon’s bodyguard, the one everyone’s been talking about?”
Here it comes. When Mom’s upset, she asks obvious questions over and over. I have trouble handling this personality trait at the best of times. But right now? It’s an effort not to punch her. “You know who Hildy is, Mom.”
“Why do you need to see her right this instant?”
Dad steps up to my rescue. “Myla and Lincoln must get some intel. First from Hildy, and then from the Striga Elders.”
“Striga Elders?” says Mom with a gasp. “What do you need them for?”
Nearby, Octavia stiffens. “You should go alone tonight.” Her bottom lip trembles with grief. “I can’t face—” She stops herself before saying ‘Connor.’
Lincoln sets his hand gently on his mother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go to your chambers? We’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”
“Thank you.”