Returning his attention to the wall, Lincoln curls his fingers right into the baseboards, exactly where he’d just cut a line with his magic knife. Jamming his hands into the wood, Lincoln then pulls up the wall as if it were fabric. Grass becomes visible through the new hole.
My brows lift. That’s a pretty neat trick, right there. Especially considering how the guards can’t see a thing.
We crawl under the wall and out into the night. The cool air makes me shiver. Lincoln starts to slip through the trees and shrubs. There’s only a thin moon in the sky, so everything is almost completely dark. Another bonus of being part demon is I have excellent night vision, though. For Lincoln’s part, his angelic side gives him similar abilities.
We slink through the woods for quite some time. I don’t see any of the guards. I can sure hear them, though. They are cocking their guns and gasping at every little sound. Considering the situation, I don’t blame them.
There are demons everywhere.
Acca has been slacking on this territory, and it shows. The humans can’t see anything. I’d imagine that they sure can sense the evil, though. I’ve never seen so many Class F demons in one place. There are dark pixies flitting through the shrubs. Hell bats hanging upside from the trees. Even the grass snakes have glowing red eyes. My inner wrath demon goes berserk. Every cell in my body wants to break out and fight.
I grit my teeth and keep a steady path toward the north side of the island. Lincoln keeps pace at my side. I’d give myself a high-five for holding back, but I don’t want to mess up my concentration. Not-killing is hard work.
As we move along, the woods change. The trees become taller. Older. More space separates the trunks. The grounds are raw and unkempt. There’s no question about it. We’ve reached outskirts of the Wheeler Institute. My pulse skyrockets. We’re getting closer to the north side of the island…And the Acca patrol.
Lincoln and I slip farther through the trees and then, we come to a large cabin. Unlike the one that I’m staying in, it’s old and nasty. The roof looks ready to fall in. In fact, there’s only one good thing about this place.
Candlelight shines through the cracks in the walls.
Someone’s in there.
Every nerve ending in my body becomes charged with excitement. Could this be the hiding place of our codex and Lucifer’s coin? My palms turn slick inside my dragonscale gloves. It’s currently early Friday morning (very, very early). If we get the codex today, we can still show the codex to the Arbiter and make our case. This could all be over so soon. And then…Our wedding. I’d be able to talk to Mom and Octavia about the plans, maybe squeeze in another fitting on my dress.
Slow down, Myla.
I force myself to inhale a few long breaths. Now is not the time to start mentally celebrating. The codex and coin come first.
Lincoln and I steal up closer to the barn. Voices carry through the night. I tilt my head. A bunch of men are gabbing about something. None of the voices sound familiar, though.
We crouch by the barn’s outer wall. Here, the breaks in the wood are large enough to peer through. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the bright light inside, but when I do, I see five Acca warriors. Lincoln pulls out a charm for concealment—it resembles a nickel—and snaps it in two. A small puff of purple smoke wafts into the air.
Now, no one can hear us.
“Is this the lost patrol?” I ask.
“That’s them, all right.”
Inside the rundown cabin, all five warriors are seated around a shabby wooden table. Everywhere in the room—tables, chairs and floor space—the place is piled high with old books and sheets of parchment. The warriors wear black body armor like Lincoln’s, only theirs has the insignia of Acca embossed on their chest. Dicks.
And of all people, Prescott paces a frenzied line before them. I blink, wondering if I’m seeing things. I’m not. Prescott is here and chatting up the Acca warriors like they’re old buddies.
What does Prescott want with fighters from Acca, exactly?
“I’ve done everything you asked,” says Prescott. The headmaster is still in his country club best, only he doesn’t seem so calm and collected any more. The guy’s golden hair is a mess and his shirt is untucked. A wild look now shines in his icy-blue eyes. “I want my Lady back in my life. She won’t speak to me unless the coin is found.”
My brows jet upward. Her she is again; the same Lady that Desmond talked about. Every particle of my body strains to hear what the Acca patrol says next. A long pause follows before anyone answers. My heart hammers in my chest as I get a closer look at the warriors. As thrax go, they’re pretty standard Acca guys. All of them are little on the thin side with blue eyes and lots of golden hair. One of them is taller with an all-gold tunic and a man-bun. That’s the patrol’s Captain.
Prescott falls to his knees before Mister Man-Bun. “Please, Blaze.”
Blaze leans back on his chair. “The terms of our deal were very clear. Your Lady is the one who set the rules here. You won’t see her again until the coin is discovered.”