Okay, I totally knew it was a long shot that they’d let us keep our weapons, but I still hate handing over my baculum to this dip. Lincoln gave me these, and I’m very protective of them. I make a quick mental note of where the Captain stashes our stuff, namely the left-hand side of his tunic. Based on Lincoln’s gaze, I can tell that he’s doing the same thing.
“Let’s move out.” The Captain marches down the incline to the valley below. Lincoln and I follow.
In the dim light, the temple looks like a square framework of broken grey stone. In some places, great trees have grown up through the smashed rock. The ground is damp and foul-smelling.
Across the scene, Adair stands atop a wooden stage set against the temple’s far wall. I roll my eyes. Great, more dramatics. She’s wearing her fake Scala robes for the occasion, which pisses me off. The Acca guard march us until we stand right before the stage. The angle forces me to stare up at her. Not my favorite view.
Up close, the stage is broken and putrid, like everything else around here. Black paint has long since chipped away, showing underlying wood that’s yellow with mold.
Adair surveys us each in turn, smiling. “Greetings.”
Father always says that in battle, you have to take the initiative and never let go. So, here comes my initiative.
I jump onto the stage. “Let’s skip the pleasantries,” I say. “Do we have a deal, Adair? You move the souls the way Purgatory sorts them—including me—and I give you the rest of my igni.”
Adair looks anxiously to her guard. She doesn’t like being so close to me while the soldiers are outside of easy fighting range. She’s right to worry, too. I went super-easy on her in the warehouse. She’s no idea what I’m capable of.
“Well, Adair?”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Want the rest of my igni?” I turn my palms face her directly. “Come and get them. I said I’d give them to you. I didn’t say I’d make it easy.”
Adair looks unsure.
“Come on,” I continue. “You did it before, at the warehouse. You’ve got demonic blood in you now. Surely, you’re not afraid of me.” I gesture towards Lincoln. “And as an extra bonus, you could claim the last of my igni right in front of you-know-who. Now, that’s got to make your inner psycho happy. It’s a very good deal.”
Adair still hesitates. Time to bring out the big guns.
I turn to Lincoln and roll my eyes. “I told you. She doesn’t have what it takes to walk across a stage, let alone be Queen of the thrax or the Great Scala. I’m the one you should choose.”
With that, Adair finally takes the bait. Her eyes flare demon-bright as she races towards me, her shoulder aiming straight for my gut, same as she did in the warehouse. Only back then, I took a fall so we could get a confession out of her. This time, I have other plans.
Lincoln sees his chance and springs into action. Gripping the Acca Captain’s head, he twists it until the neck snaps. As the man falls, Lincoln reaches into the Captain’s tunic and grabs his baculum.
Meanwhile, I allow Adair to ram her shoulder into my gut and slam me onto the floor, just as she did in the warehouse. New warriors always use the same attacks over and over, as long as they worked in the past. Total rookie mistake.
I let my head slam into the floor and then, I lie still. I’ve never been knocked out before, but I’ve done it to other people a ton of times, so I’ve a pretty good idea what it looks like.
Adair paces back and forth before my prone body, an evil smile on her mouth.
Out of my half-closed eyes, I see Lincoln battling it out before the stage, his baculum ignited into two short-swords as he goes to town on the Acca guards. They’ve got him surrounded, but their approach is perfectly suited for a short-sword counter-attack. It doesn’t look like it right now, but I give all those warriors about two minutes to live.
Adair flaps her hands at the guards. “Be careful, now! Don’t hurt him. I want him brought back to Acca, safe and alive.” She chuckles softly. “I promised I wouldn’t possess him, but I never said capture was off the menu.”
I blink my eyes wildly, as if I’m just coming to. Adair sees the movement and pounces on my torso. While straddling my rib cage, Adair presses her palms against mine, holding my hands flush against the ground. I make a great show of writhing under her like I can’t get up.
The next time Adair speaks, her mouth is only inches above my own. “Now, you’ll see what death looks like.”
I don’t think so.
I command my tail to move. It arcs high, the arrowhead end flexed into a fist. Quick as lightning, it swoops low, pounding Adair right in the gut. The force of my blow sends her flying across the stage. Adair’s head slams onto the wooden floor with such force, the planks splinter and snap. She lies on her back, unmoving. I hop up onto my feet and size up Adair.
“Now, that’s what a concussion looks like.”
I race over to Adair’s body. Meanwhile, Lincoln’s finished off the guards, so he leaps up onto the stage to do the same. Kneeling by Adair’s side, Lincoln sets his fingers against her neck. “She’s alive but unconscious.” He tosses me my baculum.