QUASI REDUX
1
Myla
The Titan of Chaos needs an ass kicking.
Color me happy.
In fact, I’m so pumped for this anti-demonic action that I check my smart watch for the umpteenth time. The little screen reads: TODAY’S MISSION - Destroy Bedlam, the Titan of Chaos, a demon who’s locked in an underground prison-tomb. If Bedlam gets loose, he’ll try to make Queen Myla his wife and use her powers to erase the Almighty.
Queen Myla… that’s me. Needless to say, I can’t wait to kill this Bedlam loser.
To that end, I now march across the Sahara along with my real husband, Lincoln. Waves of heat roll up from the sand. The sun burns down from an impossibly blue sky. The landscape is empty, except for three Hathor nomads trudging by on camels. As they pass, the trio chat with each other. I can’t help but eavesdrop.
Okay, I could help it, but it’s a barren desert and marching is boring.
“See that red-haired girl?” asks one.
My interest perks. Technically, my hair is auburn. Still, this human is clearly talking about me.
“She’s hard to miss,” answers the second. “I think I’ve seen her in movies. Maybe she plays Black Widow? And the brown-haired man who’s with her could be Captain America. I bet they’re here for filming.”
I adore Marvel movies, so this convo has me cheering inside.
“That can’t be,” says the third. “There’s no crew around. Plus, they’re both wearing black body armor. These two are warriors and dangerous ones at that. We must alert the authorities.”
Which can happen. Hathor know how to find two things in the desert: water and satellite connectivity.
My husband and I exchange a dry look.
“Shall I do the honors?” I ask. There’s no need to explain what comes next here. These three must forget they ever saw me and Lincoln.
“I can handle it,” replies my guy. He’s awesome like that.
Whether it’s dishes, diapers, or mind-wiping magic, Lincoln steps up like a man.
My husband pulls out what appears to be a penny from the pocket of his body armor. In truth, it’s a charm for erasing memories.
With his left hand, Lincoln snaps the coin in half. Purple smoke rises from the broken item before wafting over to the unsuspecting humans. They inhale the fumes and— yes! —none of them will remember us now.
This is one advantage of not being from Earth, by the way. I’m a native of Purgatory, home to quasi demons. Lincoln grew up in Antrum, which is an underground realm for part-angel warriors.
Long story short, we have all the good toys. It starts with magic coins and gets better from there.
After hiking over two more dunes, Lincoln and I finally reach a large stone disc that rests flush against the desert floor. The rock itself measures about six inches high and five feet across.
My heart pitter-pats with all kinds of happy.
Here it is: the ‘door’ to Bedlam’s underground prison.
Lincoln kneels beside the stone. With gentle movements, he brushes sand from the rock to reveal markings underneath.
“This is covered in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs,” announces Lincoln. “The first part says, here rests Bedlam, Titan of Chaos, Lord of the Tumult, and Master of the Curse for Wadget and Ra .”
I frown. Wadget and Ra is an ancient Egyptian myth like Beauty and the Beast. Only in this version, if the Beast fails to find love, he gets encased alive in glass.
Ancient Egyptians. They knew how to curse.
My guy keeps reading. “ Bedlam shall claim his queen and erase the Almighty.” Lincoln frowns. “I really dislike that part.”
“About the Almighty?”
“No, although that certainly is disturbing. Destroying the Almighty would wipe out all creation.” Muscles tighten down Lincoln’s neck. “What angers me is the part where you become Bedlam’s queen.”
“Sha. For any marriage spell to work, I must agree and— news flash! —that’ll never happen.”
Lincoln’s voice drops an octave. “I. Am. Not. Happy.”
Truth time. Do I enjoy it when my husband gets possessive? Hells, yeah.
“The faster we destroy Bedlam, the better,” declares Lincoln. He inspects the stone once more. “It ends by saying, Chaos controls all. As Bedlam’s queen shall discover, there is no true love, only triumphant manipulation .”
I suck in a shaky breath. That word, manipulation, cuts me in unexpected ways. Because I’m more than a quasi demon from Purgatory. I’m also the Great Scala, the only entity who can move souls to Heaven or Hell. It’s like being a rock star with extra stalkers and no music. I picture the many billboards lining Purgatory’s roads. All say the same thing: BEWARE THE ANGELIC CONSPIRACY! Verus, the Oracle Angel, tricked our Great Scala into a false love. A quasi could never care for a thrax demon killer. That’s not marriage, it’s angelic manipulation!
And the worst part? It’s kinda-sorta true. Verus totally used her oracle mojo to bring me and Lincoln together. So far, I’ve brushed off the haters. It’s not easy, though. Everywhere I turn, someone’s complaining that I got manipulated into marriage. I’m talking newspapers, talk shows and even random people on the street. And now Bedlam’s joined the Angelic Conspiracy Club? Ugh.
Before I know it, Lincoln pulls me into a warm embrace. “It’s all right, you know,” he whispers.
“What is?” I ask.
When my husband next speaks, his voice is low and soothing.
“Everything.”
Wrapping my arms around Lincoln’s waist, I soak in the solidity of the man.
Screw the Angelic Conspiracy. Lincoln’s my guy. I actively ignore the teeny-tiny voice in the back of my head that says, of course, Lincoln’s yours. But don’t you wonder how Verus’ manipulation guided your heart and life?
No, I reply to my own annoying self. I don’t. At all.
Denial. What a valuable life skill.
Suddenly a hundred tiny lightning bolts appear. Lincoln and I step apart, allowing the small forms to swirl through the air between us. These are igni, the little entities that help me move souls as the Great Scala.
A thousand child-like voices call out at once. “Time is running out,” warn my igni. “Bedlam sees you as his treasure… his beauty…
his Queen of Chaos! Stop him!”
Lincoln winces. “Whoa.”
My mouth falls open with surprise. “You can hear them?”
Lincoln nods.
That’s a shocker. It’s rare for my igni to show up at all, let alone speak in complete sentences. And when they do talk, usually only I can hear them. So the fact that Lincoln shares in this Igni Screech-A-Palooza? It means my little buddies are seriously freaking out. For the first time, I wonder if kicking Bedlam’s butt is a good plan.
That lasts all of four seconds.
Meh. It’ll be awesome.
“Calm down, little ones,” I declare. “Bedlam is locked up.” I gesture toward the stone as evidence. “We’re here to break in and take him on.”
But my igni aren’t listening. “Watch out!” They howling at an even higher volume. “You have mastered more of us than any before! Bedlam must not control you!”
Meh, part two. Everyone wants to pull strings on the Great Scala.