And I want to give my word, too, but the whole thing seems a little unfair. It’s all more arbitrary-sounding rules, and after growing up under the ghouls, I hate that crap. “What about the threat of Armageddon? Isn’t that enough to allow you to break some dumb rules?”
“My relationship with the Almighty is…” Dad exhales a long breath. “Complex. Trust me when I say that officially, you must be here in sanctuary. And once you’re on Earth, you’re to contact no one.” A flicker of unease shows through in my father’s blue eyes. He’s taking a huge risk to help us.
“Okay, you have my word.”
“Thank you,” says Dad. “Now that’s agreed, how will the pair of you stay hidden on Earth? If that thrax demon patrol is still around, then they’ll be able to identify you.”
Lincoln holds up his man-bag again. “We asked the Earl of Striga to make us amulets and other supplies. Once we’re kitted up, no one will recognize us. Even if my own mother walked into the Wheeler Institute, she wouldn’t see me for who I am.”
“Excellent.” Dad starts pacing a line before the window, which means he’s going into General mode. “As I said, I don’t know precisely what’s happening at the Wheeler Institute. Even so, I like your ideas of masquerading as teacher and student. I can get you aliases in that vein. For example, Lincoln could use a role on the faculty that allows him to roam the grounds.”
“Gym teacher?” I offer.
“Perfect.” Dad looks to Lincoln. “Let’s see about getting you there tonight.” My father gestures to me. “Meanwhile, you’ll act as a new student. We’ll get you to school tomorrow morning.”
“So, as a student, I just show up by myself at school?” Yes, this is a totally leading question, and yes, I know I’m pushing it here, but what can I say? I want more time with my daddy.
My father grins. “I’ll be able to drop you off.”
“That’s awesome, Dad. You’re the best.” And I really mean it.
My father glances out the window. “It’s getting dark.” He looks to Lincoln. “One of my angels will transport you to Earth. That said, you must leave soon.”
I edge closer to Lincoln. I haven’t been apart from him since we got betrothed. I don’t like the idea of separation, at all. “Can you give us a minute, Dad?”
“Surely.” My father gestures to a door set into the far wall. “Knock when you’re ready.” With that, he marches away.
I stand there for a minute, dumbfounded. Lincoln’s really leaving, and he’s doing it right now. We’ll be apart. And even if we’re able to stop Armageddon from leaving Hell, I still might be separated from Lincoln if we end up in jail. Of course, we’d appeal any prison sentence and all that. Even so, who knows how long that will take?
Before I know it, Lincoln has me wrapped in a warm embrace. “I worry about the same thing, Myla.”
I nuzzle into his neck. Nothing smells better than Lincoln. Forest pine and leather. “And what’s that?”
“Being parted from you. This isn’t a very princely of me to say, but I worry more about our separation than another invasion from the King of Hell.”
I can only smile. “It isn’t princely. I totally appreciate it, though.” I fold my arms around his waist. “Can’t we let the after-realms go to Hell for once? I mean, this room isn’t so bad. We could claim sanctuary, maybe get some furniture. A few throw rugs. A mini-fridge. We could be happy here.”
Lincoln chuckles, and I love that sound. “But then we’d miss out on an opportunity to kill demons on Earth.”
My inner mope-fest ends instantly. I forgot about the opportunity to go after demons. The Earth’s surface is crawling with them. And unlike the Arena and Purgatory, there will be no one to stop me.
“You have a point.” And he totally does. I glance out the window and watch the sun dip toward the horizon line. “Let’s go kick some ass.”
“That’s my Myla.”
I kiss the tip of his nose. “No, that’s just us.”
And even though all Hell is about to break loose—literally—I still feel like everything is all right with the world because right now? Lincoln and I are together.
Chapter Twelve
Dad speeds his Bugatti Veyron convertible around another curve in the road. He and I are following the coastline of Nova Scotia on our way to the drop-off point for the Wheeler Institute. We should arrive in the next five minutes or so, which is when I’ll meet Headmaster Prescott. The last headmaster I had was a ghoul, so whoever this dude is, he’s bound to be a step up.
I lean back in the convertible, close my eyes, and let the sunlight warm my face. It’s late September here in Nova Scotia, and the air has some of the sizzle of summer with the crisp undertones of fall. The ocean surf pounds onto the rocks along the shoreline. It’s beautiful, but in a lonely kind of way.
I miss Lincoln.
Dad takes another turn at high speed. As an angel, he really doesn’t see speed limits as applying to him. He’s also decided to be Mister Quiet this morning. I keep asking questions without getting answers. Finally, he breaks the silence. “How did things turn out with you and Lincoln? Have you moved the wedding date?”