Chapter Twenty-Five
Ethan and his guards force-march me through more artery-style hallways. As we walk along, I take care to look slump-shouldered and pathetic. Ethan is done blabbing plans—at least for now—so it gives me a chance to take stock of my situation.
On the negative side, my Scala robes are useless against human guns, Iggy is gone, and Ethan’s a dick.
On the positive side, at least my tail is still free. Plus, it’s hanging at an odd angle to look broken. It’s one of our best battle ruses.
Long story short, I still have a shot here.
Our small group pauses by a nondescript stretch of passageway. Once again, Ethan lifts his binoculars and points them toward a particular stretch of wall. Within seconds, a round portal opens. My heart leaps into my throat.
This is it.
I’m finally about to find out what’s happened to Lincoln.
The world takes on a dreamlike quality as I step through the round portal and into another lab room. Like the ones back at Times Square, the space is medium-sized, pod-like, and made of white plastic. Again, I have that creepy sensation that I’m stepping inside an egg. Two lab tables sit in the middle of the room. Behind them, there stands another pair of tall metal pillar-style structures, one black and one red. Tubing snakes out from each and locks into the base of both tables. This is just like the lab I saw with Felton Weiner. Black puts the subject to sleep. Red kills them.
My gaze locks onto the left-hand table? Every nerve in my body goes on alert.
That’s Lincoln.
I move close with halting steps. After the last catastrophe with Evil Lincoln, can this really be my guy?
“Don’t move any closer,” warns Ethan.
But this is my Lincoln! I step closer anyway.
A chorus of clicks sound behind me as more guns cock and the guards prepare to shoot. Some small part of my mind knows I should worry, but I can’t focus on anything but the immobile form lying before me.
My love.
The other half of my heart.
The father of our child.
I stop by the lab table. One of those curved glass coffin-tops covers the surface. Under it, there’s Lincoln. His eyes are closed. The lines of his ribs and collarbones jut out from his body. Deep cuts and bruises cover his arms and chest. He still wears only the low-hanging jeans that he slipped on before reading the letter from Ethan.
That was a few days and a million years ago.
It takes everything in me not to step closer. Just a few more feet and I’d be able to touch the glass. “Lincoln? Is it you?”
His eyes open a crack. “Myla.” His voice sounds hoarse and dry. “I knew you’d come.”
“I’m here.” I clench and unclench my hands. My fingers itch to stroke his cheek.
“Family reunion is over. Turn around.” That’s Ethan speaking behind me, which is both bad and good news.
The bad news is that Ethan’s breath is fanning out across my neck.
The good news is that I don’t feel a gun at my ribs anymore. I slowly shift to face Ethan, taking care to scan the room as I go. There are seven Razor Guards here along with their Supreme Leader. I’m sure Ethan would have liked more guards in tow, but this isn’t that big of a space. All of them have reholstered their guns.
They aren’t expecting a fight. That’s the best news of all.
Ethan hitches his thumb. “Get on your table.”
I shoot a quick glance at Lincoln. My guy gives me the barest shake of his head. I know what that means. Don’t get on the table. I totally agree.
I fold my arms over my chest. “No.”
Ethan chuckles. “I’m going to explain things to you once, nicely. After that, it will get very uncomfortable in here. Do you understand me?”
“English is my first language, Ethan.”
“You have one chance.” Ethan gestures toward Lincoln. “Your husband hasn’t been willing in giving up his soul. I don’t like that. I’ve tested hundreds of thrax; none have his unique angelic qualities. I even tried to clone him so I could drain those units, but cloning angelic material has proven trickier than demonic.”
“Especially considering how your trick with demonic cloning is to ask the King of Hell for help.”
“As I said before, I only rely on the best.” A smug grin winds across Ethan’s round face. “Now, if Lincoln willingly gives me his soul, then you can enjoy a comfortable life until the baby is born.”
“And after the child is here?”
“I have a rigorous training program in mind for him. He’ll be my heir and strongest supporter. And yes, I may need to drain your son at age eighteen—that’s when our systems work best—but I plan to have my angelic cloning program perfected by then. Rest assured, some version of your offspring will always be alive and well on Earth.”
I can’t believe this guy. “And what about me?”
“Once you’ve given birth, you’ll be drained as well. Willingly.”
“And that’s your super-awesome offer? Lincoln dies now, and I live comfortably until you can take your baby away from me? Oh yeah, and then you’ll raise our kid to be a brainwashed nutjob, but hey, he’ll probably get cloned, so bonus! Am I missing anything?”
Ethan’s mouth thins with determination. “Your family is the key to my plans. I need angelic soul power. Between the three of you, I’ll have enough to drive my realm forever.”
My eyes widen. The words “realm forever” echo through my consciousness. Fresh connections form between the bits of information I’ve been able to gather. The clone room… Armageddon… How Evil Lincoln said that Ethan will perfect humanity and the thrax… And now Ethan’s hopes for an eternal Earthly realm. “You’re trying to create your own puppet demons to cause trouble. That’s what all the news reports were about. But you’re also cloning Razor Guards to fight them. Why?”
“Get on the table.” Those are the words that Ethan says, but I know what he really means.
I’m getting closer to his real plans.
I glance over to Lincoln. He gives me the barest of nods. That means he’s thinking the same thing I am. Keep pushing.
“You need angelic power to do more than drive your machines,” I continue. “This is about mind control.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Ethan says it so quickly, it’s clear that I’m on the right track.
“You already have plenty of power for your tech toys. You need something extra.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You forget I’m demonic and angelic. I’ve seen this at work. My friend Zeke can easily control human minds, and he’s not all that strong. Angels can do something similar as well.” I point at my poor husband. “No one is a better leader than my Lincoln. He doesn’t consciously use his angelic nature to manipulate people, but everyone senses his inner nobility just the same. You want to control both the evil and the good in mortals. Right now, you have some fine demons, but your Ethan clones? They’re the same as humans.”
Ethan narrows his eyes. “Not for long.”
“That’s what you really want our angelic souls for, isn’t it? You want to place that angel power inside one of your own clones. With that, your Razor Guards can become more than human.”
Ethan mock-bows. “My, my. You’re slightly less brainless than I thought. You’ve hit on the one mistake most leaders make through history: controlling only their own side. You see, I failed out of thrax warrior training, but the entire concept of the thrax is outdated. It’s time to bring forth a new kind of demon and thrax, both controlled by a single ruler. I must manipulate the so-called good leaders as well as the evil. I already have the greatest power of evil.”
“Meaning Armageddon helped you with your demonic cloning program.”
Ethan’s eyes narrow. “Why would I settle for less than the best? Now, I need a thrax’s power to offset Armageddon’s on Earth. Trust me, I’ve tried tons of souls. The angelic energy from each one was minimal at best. All this time, and I’ve only gotten enough power to create one thrax clone.”
A sick feeling crawls up my throat. “How many thrax did you have to kill to create the single clone of Lincoln? Hundreds?”
“They were all sacrificed for a good cause. And now, I need more power if I’m to move forward.”
“With whatever happens tonight at Touch The Tech. You mentioned this to the Earls before… This will be your first demon patrol with them.”
“Precisely.”
My thoughts start to churn over what that demon patrol really is, but I can only think about the trouble we’re in right now.
Ethan stares longingly at my stomach. “Our futures all rely on the baby you carry. I’ll craft him into my ultimate source of angelic power.” He snaps to his guards. “Strap her in.”
The guards pounce on me so fast, I don’t even notice it coming. And for me, that’s saying something. Seven of them hold me down, and even I have issues with those numbers.
The guards start to haul me to the table. I struggle against their hold, but it’s no use. I howl with rage. After everything we tried, I’m still here, in Ethan’s damned lab. He’s going to get exactly what he wants.
Bastard.
My screams rouse Lincoln. He pounds on the glass. “I’ll do it! I’ll give you my soul.”
Ethan rolls his eyes. “Finally.” He turns to me. “And what do you have to say to that?”
My thoughts speed through more options. We’re out of time. According to Ethan, my only future is where I get strapped down to watch my husband die.
I can’t allow that to happen. There must be something else.
Focus, Myla. Think!
A plan materializes in my mind. It’s crazy and will involve physical battle, which I’ve been carefully avoiding up until now. But desperate times and all that. We need to get out of here.
My gaze locks with Lincoln’s. For the barest second, I make a face to him like I’m holding my breath. He gives me another slight nod in return. A sense of joy bubbles up through my rib cage. One puffy-cheeked look, and my guy totally guesses what I’ve got planned.
Damn, but I’ve missed him.
“Myla.” Ethan taps his foot. “I asked you a question. Do you agree with your husband giving up his soul?” Ethan stares straight at me, his mismatched eyes shining with glee. The creep is enjoying this way too much for his own good.
“Here’s what I think,” I say slowly. “You should have taken away my Scala robes and put at least two guards on my tail.” As it stands, there’s only one warrior holding down my backside. And that guy has a really weak grip.
I scan the bandaged faces of the guards around me. “Sorry to have to kill you and all, but you really shouldn’t mess with a pregnant lady.”
Within my soul, I release my powers of demonic wrath. Every movement becomes so fast, it’s a blur. My tail skewers the guard holding it, then arcs forward to take out two more guards by spearing their chests. Meanwhile, I leap up and kick another guard in the throat, snapping his neck. I pull his own gun from its holster, spin about, and shoot the other three guards in quick succession.
Ethan opens the door, calls for more guards, and hightails it out of the room. It’s about the most cowardly retreat I’ve ever seen.
More guards rush toward me. There isn’t much time to stop them. I leap through the air, aiming to land on the black canister. Along the way, I make sure to drag my tail across the top of Lincoln’s glass coffin. The top gets smashed to bits. Lincoln jumps down from the table.
At the same time, I land atop the black canister and rake the arrowhead end of my tail down the side. Black smoke billows out of the container while I command my Scala robes to transform into a hazmat suit.
As more of the dark mist fills the room, Lincoln attacks the nearest Razor Guard. My guy’s cheeks are slightly puffed, just like I showed him.
Lincoln has been holding his breath.
The other guards didn’t, so they quickly turn sluggish and wobbly. There’s still a lot of them in here, though. I join the battle beside Lincoln. Everything becomes a blur of fighting. My tail snaps a guard’s neck. Another enemy warrior tries to grab me, but Lincoln nails him with a roundhouse kick to the head. A few more shoot off their weapons, but their aim is crap. The black mist grows heavier. One by one, the guards drop to the ground.
Through the darkening smoke, I see Lincoln rush over to the table and fiddles with the outtake valves. An alarm sounds. Fans whir into action. The black smoke quickly clears from the room.
Thank Heaven for air.
With the breathing situation sorted out, I make a quick inspection of the room. All the guards lie immobile on the floor. Did we kill them all?
Ethan is nowhere in sight. Tricky bastard.
I step over to the nearest Razor Guard and set my fingers on his neck. There’s no pulse. A heavy sense of dread weighs into my bones. It’s terrible to take any life. I pull down the black bandages covering his face. Yup, more Ethan clones. I scan the room. Where’s the real deal anyway?
“Did you see where Ethan went?” I ask.
“After he let the last round of guards, Ethan snuck out.” Lincoln’s hands ball into fists. “We need to find Ethan and kill him.” His body shivers with fury. “The things he’s done...”
I pause. This isn’t like my Lincoln at all. “What do you mean? You want to just kill him without bringing him to justice?”
Please, please, please, tell me I didn’t free another clone.
Lincoln gives me the side eye. “Whatever I do, it will always be with full appreciation for thrax law and custom.”
I grin. That’s my guy, all right.
I start hauling the boots off the nearest guard. “Now, we need to change into Razor Guard outfits and get out of here.”
Lincoln keeps glaring at the bodies. “The things Ethan has done are beyond the pale. All the thrax I sent to Earth? He drained their souls to make a single clone.”
“And he will pay.” I step up to Lincoln and cup his face in my hands. “But right now? We need to escape. If I know you, you’ve spent the last few days on nothing but recon, listening to guards or subtly pumping them for information. You know how to get us out of here. So let’s do that, go back to Antrum, get a real army, and return to Earth and kick Ethan’s ass properly.”
A muscle twitches along Lincoln’s jaw. “It’s too dangerous to wait. Who knows if we’ll get another chance at Ethan?” He scans the downed bodies. “Some of these guards have binoculars. I know how to use them in order to open a secret passage out of this room. We can follow Ethan easily. I’m sure he’s gone into the lower levels of the lab.”
Oh, no. It takes a lot for my guy to turn into a mindless rage machine, but when it happens? Watch out. And unfortunately, I think that “rage machine” thing may be happening right now.
So, I do the only thing I can do. I call in the big guns.
Taking Lincoln’s palm, I set it onto my stomach. “Get us out of here, Lincoln. Please.”
Lincoln’s gaze finally locks with mine. Bit by bit, the fury drains from his eyes. “Myla.”
“That’s right.” I rest my hand against his cheek. “Me and the baby. We’re here.”
“So you are.” He leans into my touch. “I know another clone room we can use to access the surface. It will take us back to LaGuardia.”
“Fine. More Manus demons. I can handle that.”
“It might be Manus or anything, really. Ethan’s been cloning every demonic type there is, looking for the perfect puppets.” Lincoln starts stripping a uniform off one of the Razor Guards.
“Demon, shmeemon. I know every bad guy in the book.” I command my Scala robes into thin underarmor and starting pulling the clothes off a Razor Guard. Turns out, stripping a melty-faced Ethan lookalike is about as disgusting as it sounds. It’s over soon enough, though. Within minutes, Lincoln and I are both disguised as Razor Guard disguises.
Lincoln approaches nearby wall and lifts a pair of binoculars to his face.
“Tell me you know how to use those,” I say.
“I know how to use them.” After that, Lincoln twists some dials. Black sparks fly out from the device. Part of it melts in his hand.
I frown. “Is that supposed to happen?” I’d seen other folks use the binoculars, like Albinia. Iggy made the things melt, but I’d never seen sparks fly before.
Lincoln runs his fingers over the device. “No, this must be some side effect of the draining process. My angelic energy got linked somehow to these metal..”
I snap my fingers. “Williamson said something like that before. He was placed into one of these draining coffins.” Reaching under my Scala robes, I pull out the arrowhead that I had stashed by my collarbone. It’s a little mushed, but still in pretty good shape. “I found him before he died and he’d almost crushed one of Ethan’s arrowheads.”
Lincoln arches his brows. “You found Williamson?”
“Long story.” I reset the arrowhead under my robes while nervous energy zings through me. How often do those patrols check this area anyway? It feels like we’ve been hanging out here for too long. I bounce a little on the balls of my feet. “We should get going.”
“Agreed. I’ll use a gentler touch this time.” Lincoln scoops up a fresh pair of binoculars from one of the downed guards. This time, when he fiddles with the dials, the portal door swirls open, revealing another all-white corridor. “This is the fastest path. Least trafficked as well.”
It’s a somewhat inappropriate thought to have at this moment, but I think the fact that Lincoln did all this recon while trapped in a glass coffin is kinda hot. What can I say? I’m part lust demon.
I nod toward the hallway. “Any guards in there?”
“No,” replies Lincoln. “They don’t patrol these areas, but they do have cameras everywhere. So we need to go through this hallway and the adjoining clone room quickly. Otherwise, it will look suspicious.”
“Got it.”
For the record, it’s hard to talk with these face bandages on. Even worse, the Ethan clone that I lifted them from had some nasty bad breath. Yet another reason to put this whole experience behind me.
Together, Lincoln and I step into hallway and jog until the passageway appears to hit a dead end. Lincoln lifts his binoculars again, and a door appears. We cross the threshold; the portal door closes behind us with another swoosh.
We step into another clone room. This is a huge space but without any cloning tanks. Odd, but what do I care? Maybe they haven’t built the tanks yet or something. My heart beats double-time in my chest.
We’re so close now.
All we have to do is cross this chamber, and freedom is ours. As we step forward, I can really focus on the details of the room. What I see makes every nerve in my body go on alert.
This chamber is another black pod-like room like the last one. Only here, the walls are lined with the cloning tanks, not the floor. Unfortunately, each glass pillar holds the same kind of demon, over and over.
Armageddon.
Hells bells.
This is the classic-looking King of Hell: tall and long-limbed with a short torso and long limbs. The elongated face holds a blade-like nose and pointed chin. The only difference I see between these clone Armageddons and the real deal? Their skin is a dull and pasty gray instead of shiny and black as polished stone.
Not much of a comfort.
Ugh. Just when I thought things were looking up, I now have to walk through a room of Armageddon clones. If I thought escape was tricky before, that was nothing compared to this. No doubt, Armageddon had no qualms giving some of his life force to these duplicates. And even if they only hold a smidgeon of the King of Hell’s power, these lookalikes could do a lot of damage. On such occasions, there’s only one thing a girl can say.
Fuck-fuck-fuckity-FUCK-fuck.