I like where this is going. As much as I’m a badass, I do love it when Lincoln gets a little bossy and protective. “What did you do?”
“I added a magical perimeter around this place. Better than bulletproof glass.” He hitches his thumb toward the wall. “Those guards could lob a grenade at your window, and it wouldn’t leave a dent.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing else for you.” Lincoln hoists himself onto his left elbow. “I’d like to have a discussion with your tail, though.”
I think back to the way my tail acted on the docks. Lincoln must have figured out that it was being surly and now? Somebody’s in trouble.
Instantly, my tail dives under the covers. It’s a total sucker for Lincoln, and it knows what’s coming. I tap the sheet. “Get moving. You know he won’t let it drop.”
Little by little, my tail slinks out from under the sheet. The arrowhead end points toward Lincoln’s face. This is it’s “I’m ready and listening” pose. I don’t see it often.
“Now then,” says Lincoln. “I’m sure you’re not happy here and therefore, you’re giving Myla grief. I want that to end. Do we understand each other?”
My tail’s arrowhead-end does its nodding thing. Yes.
Lincoln reaches his arm out. “Thank you.” My tail instantly winds around Lincoln’s arm, rubbing against him like a cat. I yank it away. Sometimes, my tail is such an attention hog.
“I guess we should get going.”
“Yes,” says Lincoln. “You’ll need to change into your dragonscale fighting suit before we go.” He leans back against the pillows. “I’ll watch.”
“Sure, you will.”
And watching isn’t all that he does. All of which is why we end up not sneaking out of the cabin until 2 a.m.
Sometimes, it’s good to be me.
Chapter Sixteen
It’s almost time to trek off to the north side of the island. I make a few last-second checks of my gear, including fiddling with the facemask of my dragonscale fighting suit. Once I pull this thing over my head, no one will see me in the dark. My tail bounces in a happy rhythm behind me. It seems like everyone is pumped to be leaving the cabin.
Lincoln digs around in his man-bag of tricks, an angry look on his face. I can’t help but notice how we’re not going anywhere yet.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I went through way too many spells in prepping for today. I never suspected that Acca had done nothing to protect the area.” He shakes his head. “I should have guessed.”
“How bad is it?”
“I’ve enough charms to cover us. Barely.” Lincoln starts setting some small potion bottles and charms into different little pockets on his body armor. “There are a lot of demons out there, though.”
My heart pitter-pats a little faster. “How many is a lot?”
“Tons. The place is crawling with them.”
My tail arches over my shoulder, tilting the arrowhead-shaped end toward me. I give it a high five. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“We’re not killing demons tonight.” Lincoln has his no-nonsense tone on, which is a total bummer. “This mission is for recon only.”
“Sure, sure.” I’m so killing something when I get a chance.
Lincoln tilts his head and eyes me carefully. “You’re just yes-ing me to death, aren’t you?”
I debate about lying, but that’s a bad habit to get into. “Yeah, I totally was.” I raise my hand, palm forward. This is a serious mission, and Lincoln and I need to be aligned. “I promise not to kill anything unless we agree on it.”
Lincoln’s face warms with a genuine smile. “I love you, Myla.”
I wink. “It’s easy to do, really.” I kiss him gently on the cheek. Sometimes, that says it all.
“Well, now.” Lincoln loops his arms around my waist. “Are you ready to explore the north side of the island?”
“Hells, yeah.”
“Then, let’s go.” Lincoln pulls a small knife out of a pocket. The pentagram insignia of Striga has been carved into the handle. More magic stuff.
“That’s a new one to me.” Although, considering Lincoln and I haven’t been together too long, most of the stuff from Striga is new to me. “What does that thing do?”
“It will cut our way out of here without attracting attention. Even the guards won’t see us.” Lincoln kills the lights, steps over to the wall, and kneels down. I can barely make out his blade glowing in the darkness as he makes a mark across the baseboard.
I finish getting myself ready. In this case, that means pulling my hood over my face and dragging on my gloves. This way, every inch of me is hidden.
Fear me, for I am Ninja Scala.
Lincoln pulls on his own facemask. While mine looks more like a black fencing mask thingy, Lincoln’s reminds me of a ski mask with meshy eyes. It’s pretty cool looking, actually. Lincoln glances up in my direction. We share a silent nod.
Go time.