Instantly, the front of the amulet changes. The surface bubbles, turning into the image of two dragons facing each other, their claws extended and teeth bared. Their dragon-tails loop around to the backside of the disc, where they from a spiral that ends in the amulet’s center. The roman numerals one to ten are marked along the length of the entwined tails, with ten at the outer edge and one at dead center.
“The back of the amulet shows the level of your powers,” says Dad.
“Got it.” I watch the entwined tails on the amulet’s backside. Bit by bit, they turn black against the backdrop of red stone. The color reaches up to the numeral ten and pauses. “It looks like I have all my igni.” I exhale a relieved breath. Maybe Adair has been playing some kind of elaborate mind game with me.
Whew. Mind games, I can handle. Losing my igni, not so much.
The color in the tails starts to disappear. Not a mind game, then. Adair really did steal my powers. My rib cage seems to squeeze in on me.
The level on the amulet slips past nine, then eight. My breath catches. How many igni did she take? I fought against her stealing every one of them. The readout finally comes to a stop at seven. I grip the amulet tightly, feeling my palms turn slick with sweat. “This says my powers are at seven out of ten.” My throat constricts with grief and chock. “I’ve lost igni.”
With that realization, my mind empties of everything but a single thought. It’s one thing to suspect someone’s stealing the little supernatural children that power your life. It’s another to see evidence that it actually happened. And they screamed so loudly as they were torn from me. Pain and terror.
My voice catches. “My igni.” Their loss hits me like a punch to belly, the agony overwhelming and raw.
Lincoln steps up beside me, gently setting his hand on my shoulder. “Tell your father what happened tonight at the Ghost Tower.”
I meet his gaze, my own eyes stinging with sorrow. “My igni.”
“I know this is hard, Myla. But we don’t have a lot of time. Tell your father what happened. Maybe he can help.”
Little by little, I turn to face my father. “Just now, I got into a fight with Adair at Ghost Tower Four. I tied her up with an igni cord. It felt like she was using that cord as a connection. Taking my powers away from me.” I run my fingers along the amulet. “And this confirms it. But how could that be possible? At any point in time, there can only be two beings with the blood of an angel, human and demon. The Scala and the Scala Heir.”
Dad keeps his voice soft and soothing. “That’s correct.”
“So how could she take my igni? Adair only has the blood of a human and angel in her.”
Dad’s mouth thins to a frown. “The trick isn’t getting demon blood in you. That’s pretty easy to do. And fatal, if that means you’ll have all three blood types at once. If I injected Lincoln with demon blood right now, he’d die a long and painful death.”
Lincoln nods sadly. “At some points in our history, it’s been used as a form of execution. Excruciating way to go.”
“In any case, getting demon blood isn’t the problem,” continues Dad. “The tough part is getting half-way through the Scala Heir initiation ceremony. After that, you can take all three blood types easily.”
I let out a long groan. That explains it.
“Of course. Adair went through the Scala Heir initiation ceremony with me. She inhaled the special angel dust, got the sacred words said over her, and was proclaimed Angelbound by Verus. All she was missing was the demon blood.”
Lincoln shakes his head. “But that ceremony was a sham. Verus only did that to actually initiate Myla on the sly. Adair had her igni powers faked with magic from Gianna of the House of Striga. It was never real.”
“It wasn’t real then,” corrects Dad. “But that’s only because Adair didn’t have the blood of a demon in her. All she’d need is an injection, and then the ceremony would be complete. I’m sorry to tell you this, but right now, Adair is some kind of Scala.”
The words keep echoing around my head, but they can’t be right. Adair is some kind of Scala.
I’m vaguely aware that my father’s still talking. “I wonder who would have had enough knowledge of Scala lore to have given her that advice?” Dad rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Injecting demon blood into a thrax is an extreme death. Normally, no one would even consider it. And it’s not like there are many Scala books left around, even in Heaven. Interesting. Perhaps she wanted the powers badly enough to take a wild risk.”
I appreciate that Dad is in thoughtful-mode and all, but I need more information, fast. “So, how is Adair getting my igni?”
Dad shrugs, his move when he’s setting aside his thoughts for another time. “Normally, the Great Scala gives the Heir some igni. Or all of it, if they choose. The Old Scala gave you his willingly, am I right?”
“He was glowing blue and dead at the time, but yeah, it was willingly.”
“Well, Adair knows you’d never do the same for her, so my guess is she got a spell somewhere on her body. Something to force the igni transfer.”