LINCOLN – Chapter 1 is here!

Dear readers,

I’m super-excited to share this preview of Chapter One from LINCOLN, my upcoming book that tells the story of ANGELBOUND from Prince Lincoln’s point of view.

Thanks for taking a look and I hope you enjoy the sample!

Christina

Before me looms a Dissolus demon. Think about a waist-high glob of mayo—only both alive and deadly—and that’s the general idea. No face, no limbs. It’s mega-bacteria with attitude. For hours, I hunted this creature through the woods of Purgatory. Now I’ve cornered it in the royal stables.

All that remains is the kill. It won’t be easy.

Little by little, I pin the Dissolus against the wall with my body. The white slime of the demon’s skin smears onto the legs of my armor. The creature’s round form pulses, heartbeat style. Reaching forward, I slip my hands through the monster’s outer layer, careful to keep my palms tipped at precisely forty degrees. Unless I use that exact angle combined with slow speed, the creature’s interior will transform from ugly slop into deadly acid.

Then I’ll be dissolved in seconds. Painfully. Not on the agenda for today.

Sweat beads down my spine as I search inside the monster. My goal is to find the creature’s nucleus, a solid orb about the size of a baseball. I shift my arms within the gooey interior. Slurping sounds ricochet through the air. Across the stables, a horse whinnies. Adrenaline spikes through my system. There’s a time limit here. If I don’t grab the nucleus fast enough, the demon’s insides will turn acidic anyway. It’s an effort, but I somehow keep my motions slow and steady. All thoughts collapse into a single goal.

Find the nucleus.

A familiar voice breaks up the quiet. “Interesting monster, eh?”

Seriously?

That’s Aldred, the Earl of Acca and an extraordinary scumbag. He’s a portly fellow, middle aged with thinning hair and long jowls. While I spent hours hunting the Dissolus, Aldred followed behind at a safe distance, releasing a steady stream of chatter. At this point, he and I are the only people in the stables, if you don’t count the demon.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” I reply.

“What can I say?” Aldred steps beside me, scanning the scene. “I’m an earl, not a walking thesaurus.”

For a moment, I see myself in Aldred’s eyes. I’m Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the demon-fighting Thrax. At eighteen, I’m tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair and mismatched irises. I also happen to be leaning over a possessed blob of white goo the size of an engorged Hippity Hop. Not a fun moment.

“So, what would you say?” asks Aldred.

After a morning of the earl’s chatter—combined with seconds until I experience death by acidic disintegration—my last thread of Aldred-shaped patience snaps. “Two words,” I reply. “Shut. Up.”

Aldred raises his hands, palms forward, in a movement that says I didn’t do anything. “No need to get testy.”

Frustration sends my thoughts reeling. How did I end up here anyway? The answer flickers through my mind like images on a carousel. On orders from Verus, the Queen of the Angels, my family and I are temporarily residing in Purgatory, along with all our court. Since my people enjoy a medieval lifestyle, we’ve constructed cabins in Purgatory’s Amber Woods. This morning, a Dissolus demon broke free from our Royal Menagerie. Cue me chasing the monster through the forest while the earl follows behind. Which returns me to the present moment and imminent death.

“This is taking too long,” declares Aldred. With mincing steps, the earl creeps up beside me.

“Stay back,” I warn. “That’s for your own safety.”

“No, I shall kick it for you.”

“Absolutely not,” I counter. “You’ll end up losing your boot as well as your foot, and that’s if you’re lucky.” I angle my body so Aldred can better see what I’m doing. “The only safe way to attack a Dissolus is to use steady pressure to pin it in place, usually with your body and an obliging corner, like I’ve done here. Then you reach in at precisely a forty degree angle. Only forty degrees, mind you. Any other kind of jabbing or slicing movement will activate its acidic defense.”

At last, my fingers brush against the creature’s hard nucleus. Yes! Normally I give demons a chance to retreat before killing them. However, Dissolus have the mental powers of a paramecium. To them, attacking is nothing personal—it’s just what they do.

Time to end this.

Tightening my grip on the nucleus, I yank with all my strength. The round sphere breaks free from the gelatinous demon. For a moment, the Dissolus quivers in place. Then it collapses into a puddle of translucent sludge. The scent of rotten eggs fills the air. In my right hand, the nucleus transforms into a bright white orb before vanishing altogether. I exhale a long breath.

“And that’s how to kill a Dissolus.” I shake out my palms, sending residual slop flying around. Good thing the horses are on the other side of the stables. Cleaning Dissolus entrails off a mare’s coat would take forever. As it is, my current set of body armor is ruined. I’ll also need charms from the house of Striga to fully clean my skin. Otherwise, I’ll have a smattering of foul-smelling crud across my hands and face for months.

“Glad I was here to help,” declares Aldred. “We make a great team.” He moves to stand directly in the main aisle of the stable. In other words, blocking my departure. I’ve seen this action from Aldred before.

“Is there a particular topic you wish to discuss?” I ask.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Now that we’ve spent the morning together, I thought we could talk, man to man.”

I tilt my head. “Go on.”

Here it comes. Another discussion about my marriage contract.

For weeks, Aldred has been pestering me to sign a betrothal contract with his daughter, Lady Adair. At one time, I might have been interested. Now, not so much. The local residents of Purgatory are quasi-demons, and one of those ladies happens to be an excellent warrior named Myla Lewis. As of this moment, it’s been eight days, six hours, and thirty-two minutes since I last saw Myla. At the time, she was fighting off Doxy demons in a nearby lake. Her battle technique displayed the perfect combination of beauty, intellect and lethal power.

Ah, Myla.

Long story short, I’m no longer interested in signing a marriage contract. Instead, my time’s been consumed with researching Miss Lewis. To that end, I’ve learned she’s fighting in Purgatory’s Arena tomorrow morning. I plan to sneak into an access corridor and watch her battle from a distance. The very idea makes my heart soar.

Aldred clears his throat, breaking up my thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. Evidently, the earl was blabbing away while I contemplated Myla. Even so, I doubt I missed anything. There’s only one topic of interest to Aldred these days. My marriage. “Please repeat your statement.”

“The Tithe has been snooping around our compound here in Purgatory,” announces Aldred.

My brows lift. Of all the things I expected the earl to say, this wasn’t on the list.

“The Tithe?” I ask. “Are you certain?”

Like a fairy godmother, the Tithe fulfills your greatest wish, assuming you’re both worthy and a thrax. Want a pile of gold? Done. Hope your enemies will disappear? Poof, they’re gone. Looking to turn someone semi-angelic? Boom, they’re thrax. The Tithe can do it all. In return, you agree to serve him through all eternity. The Tithe began life as a sculptor, so he places your soul inside an effigy, which is a lifelike statue of your best self. You then spend forever with him in the Tower of Wonders. Supposedly, it’s a never-ending vacation.

In my opinion, it all seems too good to be true.

That said, we’ve never had any complaints. Which is something, considering how the Tithe’s been at it since the dawn of time. Plus my people love the idea of a magical thrax fixing their lives. To date, I’ve seen no reason to ruin their fantasies. But now? I don’t like the idea of the Tithe prowling around Purgatory. He’s never left Antrum before.

“My information comes from multiple sources,” confirms Aldred. “The Tithe has come to this very compound many times, but he hasn’t approached Acca once.” Aldred puffs out his lower lip in a universal movement for poor me.

“Odd that you’d know about this,” I say. “I’ve received no royal reports.” No need to add that my mother Octavia has the best spy network around.

Aldred shrugs. “No one else thinks it’s important enough. But to me, this is dire news. So far, the Tithe has visited other Ministers of Alliances.” As he reads off each name, Aldred raises a pudgy finger. “Namely, those from the houses of Kamal, Striga and Horus.”

At this point, Aldred’s information raises two red flags.

Red flag number one. I’ve been meeting with those very Minsters of Alliances, hoping to put together a treaty of mutual military support. By combining our warriors, our houses will command enough soldiers to match Acca’s massive army. In turn, that allows wiggle room for many situations, including my marriage treaty. It’s worrisome that anyone else would target these same ministers.

Red flag number two. The negotiations for y anti-Acca alliance are absolutely secret. Even my parents are unaware, and I tell them virtually everything. If Aldred discovered my anti-Acca treaty, he’d complain to my father, who’d then shut down my plans, fast. All of which is why I stay carefully casual when I next address Aldred.

“My dear earl, those ministers all more than four hundred years old. That’s up in age, even for thrax. The Tithe only approaches those near death. I see nothing here to worry about.”

Aldred stomps his foot. “But why not my house? My Alliances Minister, Altavar, is old as dirt. It’s just not fair. The other houses could request anything of the Tithe. They might ruin me.”

I narrow my eyes, thinking this through. Aldred holds a briefing every morning with my father. Normally, this is the kind of thing they cover in detail.

“What did Connor say about this?” I ask.

Aldred kicks at the wooden slats that make up the floor. “Your father advised I get you into a casual setting and ask you straight up.”

“And what question will you ask?” Aldred has another shoe in his possession; I’d like it to drop already.

“Did you connect the Tithe with other houses to avoid marrying Adair?”

Shoe, meet floor.

I shake my head in disbelief. “So you think I’m shepherding the Tithe around, introducing him to other ministers in the hopes they’ll trade their souls for a royal marriage treaty?” It’s true that Aldred would make that deal in hot second, but the other ministers are far from a lock. Besides, I’m not sure Aldred has a soul anyway.

Aldred lifts his chins. “Well, is that your scheme or isn’t it?”

“I am not introducing the Tithe to other houses, whether for royal marriage or any other purpose. And as I’ve explained many times, I have not ruled out the idea of marrying Adair. I’m simply not signing any contracts right this second.”

Aldred laughs, and the guffaws are a little too loud to be genuine. “Glad we cleaned that up.” He makes a great show of scanning the stables. “We’re still alone, my friend.” The earl steps closer. “I’ve news for you about Minister Kabir. Great information.”

“And?” Of all the ministers, my negotiations with Kabir—and therefore the House of Kamal—are the farthest along.

“Kabir’s been asking around.” Aldred lowers his voice. “About quasi warriors.”

My blood chills. Can Kabir be talking about Myla for some reason? When I next speak, it’s an effort to keep my voice calm. “And what is Kabir’s interest?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Aldred smirks.

At this point, that smug grin of Aldred’s tells me two things. First, the earl knows exactly what Kabir is up to, and second, Aldred wants something in exchange for the information.

I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “Name your price, Aldred.”

The earl exhales a long-suffering sigh. “I might confide everything, but it’s sensitive information … the kind you share with family, you know?”

Meaning: ink my betrothal contract and I’ll tell all.

I chuckle. Aldred always overreaches in negotiations. However, what he lacks in finesse he more than makes up for in persistence. “I am not signing your contract merely to discover Kabir’s plans.”

“Please; I never expected you to sign this very second,” lies Aldred. No doubt, the man keeps a copy of the contract in the folds of his tunic along with a quill, just in case. “But perhaps you can commit to spending more time with my sweet Adair? If so, then I might feel like sharing.”

Aldred thinks he’s being sneaky, but I already made this decision last night. “Mother is organizing a garden party at the Ryder mansion. My plan is to request Adair’s company for the event.” After all, I’ve said all of five sentences to the girl. Who knows? We may hit it off.

Aldred rubs his palms together. “Excellent, I’ll tell Lady Adair today.”

“Your turn,” I state. “What about Kabir and quasi warriors?”

Aldred narrows his eyes to conspiratorial slits. “No doubt, you’ve already heard about all the excitement. The thrax court is itching to hunt the local demon population.”

My eyes widen with shock. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You know us thrax—always on the lookout for a new challenge. Quasis have never been entered onto the official roll of demonic kills.”

Protective energy runs up my spine. “The Queen of the Angels herself, the oracle Verus, sent us here to interact with the quasi population, not to hunt them down.”

Aldred sniffs. “Bah. It’s a matter of time before some quasi marches into our camp, looking for trouble. After all, they’re partly demonic. It’s in their blood. And once they come after us, we’ll have to protect ourselves. It’s only right.”

Images of Myla appear in my mind. She did indeed sneak into our compound, but only because she was on the trail of a mutual enemy, the Doxy demons. A weight of worry settles into my stomach. What if someone other than me saw her? Aldred is right; my people would kill first and ask questions later.

I set my fists on my hips. “You still haven’t shared specifics on Kabir and quasis. What did he say, precisely?”

“Kabir’s interested in Purgatory’s Arena.”

Meaning he’s focusing on warriors like Myla. “Do you know why?” I ask.

“My guess? They’ll be the best in battle. Here’s the thing. Maybe you and I work together. We’ll get the first official kill on the roll. That means medals, Lincoln.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. White-hot rage heats my veins. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear.” I prowl toward Aldred, my voice deep as thunder. “Hunting the local population is off the table, whether they are arena warriors or not. If you or anyone else even speaks of this again, I’ll have you shipped back to Antrum and tossed into the dungeons.” For every final word I speak, I tap Aldred on the center of his chest. “Do you understand?”

“All right.” The earl forces another laugh. “No need to get sensitive.”

I glare at Aldred with a look that says, I’m done here. “The dungeons, Aldred. I mean it.”

Without waiting for a reply, I storm past the earl and out of the stables. Even though Aldred runs our most powerful house, I’m the High Prince and I have my limits. Hunting quasis? Outrageous!

Suddenly, I wish my parents weren’t away on a demon hunting excursion. I’d like nothing better than to open a formal inquest, find out who’s threatening quasis, and then fill our dungeons to overflowing. But opening an inquest is serious business. For the process to have teeth, my parents must sign off. And they won’t return for at least four days.

Ah, well. Better to do this right and wait, much as I hate that fact.

All the way back to my cabin, my thoughts race through everything I’ve just learned: how the Tithe is taking an interest in top ministers … the fact that my own people may be targeting quasi warriors … and how the entire situation could place Myla in danger. It all adds up to one terrible conclusion.

If I’m not careful, Myla might end up dead. That’s not an option, so I take a silent oath.

With all my mind and body, I vow to protect the woman who already holds my heart.

–End of Sample–

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