Bauer - Lincoln: Angelbound Book 2 with bonus novella, Duty Bound

Brighton, MA 02135

www.monsterhousebooks.com

ISBN 9781945723377

Copyright 2019 by Monster House Books LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For All Those Who Kick Ass, Take Names,

and Read Books

I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax. My people are renowned as the greatest demon hunters across Heaven, Hell, Earth, Purgatory, and the Dark Lands. At eighteen years old, Ive killed precisely one thousand four hundred and thirty-seven demons in hand-to-hand combat, more than any other thrax in history. All of which leads to a single inescapable conclusion.

I can make it through this breakfast with my mother.

At least, I think I can.

You havent touched your eggs, my son. Mother spears a strawberry off her plate. After many years of maternal encounters, Ive learned to keep my mouth closed in situations like this one. Mother will bring up her true concerns when shes good and ready.

In reply, I merely maintain her stare. Weve an odd relationship, but a close one. Were both natural schemers, so neither wants to pass up a test of intelligence and charm.

Perhaps you dislike formal breakfasts, says Mother as she gestures to my tunic.

Im fine with wearing royal garb to meals. Rest assured, all my Batman costumes are safely packed away. As a child, I fought hard to dress as a human superhero. Unlike demon killing, that was one battle I ultimately lost.

So you say. A small smile rounds Mothers mouth. Those tunics hide quite a lot.

True. Ive a Bohemian Rhapsody T-shirt on under this thing.

I have no idea what that is, but Im pleased to see you turned out so well.

This morning, Im dressed in a velvet tunic, leather pants, and tall boots. Meanwhile, Mother looks regal and lethal in her black velvet gown. She has porcelain skin, delicate features, and an all-knowing glare that reduces hardened warriors to mush.

Needless to say, Im pleased that her glare has softened. I must remember to work Batman into our conversations more often.

For a few minutes, Mother and I continue our breakfast in silence. It would be pleasant, except for the setting. Our new feasting hall is located in Purgatory.

Yes, Purgatory.

This place combines the worst of a rundown human suburb with the best of a rotting Dumpster. The sky is constantly cloudy with two types of weather: rainy and about to rain. Its part of the magic of this realm that the weather is always dreary. Plus, the sky never reveals the sun or moon, and even if it did, those celestial bodies follow different patterns than they do in other realms.

Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts return to the glittering caverns of my homeland. As a rule, thrax live underground on Earth in the realm of Antrum. For some reason, the oracle angel, Verus, has demanded the royal familyand our noble entouragemove to Purgatory for a short period of time. This wasnt a popular idea, but the oracles word is law, so we arrived here three months ago. Until Verus sets us loose, our days will be spent in tents and wooden halls like this one.

I scan the empty benches around me and sigh. Its hard being separated from the bulk of my people. Quiet breakfasts like this only make things worse. Usually our feasting hall is packed with thrax sharing breakfast at communal tables. However, today Mother insisted on having a family-only morning meal, which in this case translates into me, Mother, and a half-dozen terrified workers. Father should arrive any minute now. I can only hope he arrives before Mothers temper returns.

As if in reply to my thoughts, Mother spears another wilted strawberry with a vengeance. Looks like her temper will resurface before Father does. Bugger.

You never answered my question, says Mother You havent touched your food. She spears a grape with such force the entire table wobbles.

Careful there, I say. Youll bring down the roof down.

One perk of being queen. I can bring down roofs and no one says a thing.

At those words, the half-dozen servants in the room visibly shiver.

Theres no question about the general topic of Mothers angst, either. Its always the same issue: the House of Acca. That tribe is the largest and most troublesome of all thrax.

At this point, problems with Acca could fall into one of two categories.

One, Mother might be worried about my impending marriage contract with Accas most eligible noblewoman, Lady Adair. If Mother thinks there are problems on that front, she would be sorely mistaken. Its a business arrangement, nothing more. Id regret that, but Im a prince. I always knew Id never marry for love.

Twoand far more worrisomewould be if Mother discovered my ongoing scheme against Aldred, the dreaded Earl of Acca himself. Ive many issues with the Earl, but my largest is how Aldred keeps leading his warriors into ill-planned demon attacks on the Earths surface. Thanks to the Earl of Acca, hundreds of good thrax meet bad ends every week. I meet with the families of the fallen, trying to provide comfort as their worlds fall apart. So many tears and ruined livesand all so the Earl can prove his so-called prowess in battle.

Its outrageous.

Even worse, my parents have forbidden me from doing anything to stop Aldreds bloodshed. Per some ancient treaty, if I interfere with Aldreds rights to lead his troops, then the Earl has the unmitigated right to execute me on the spot.

And as every royal knows, execution threats and breakfast do not mix well.

Mother narrows her eyes. Like all thrax, she has mismatched irises, one brown and the other blue. Answer the question, child. Why arent you eating?

I stare at my plate of runny scrambled eggs. Not hungry. Im not much of a foodie on any occasion, but the royal menu has taken a serious nosedive ever since we moved to Purgatory. This realm doesnt even have cable, let alone the ability to run power lines to our campground. All things considered, the royal chefs doing wonders with mobile stoves and Bunsen burners.

Mother waves at the roomful of servants. Leave us. A half-dozen thrax in traditional medieval garb skitter from the room. The queen is in a mood, and they all know it.

Sadly, I cant escape so easily.

Mother daintily pats the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin. Im quite concerned about Acca.

And here it is.

Mother is ready to confront me, and hopefully not about the topic of execution. With a force of will, I keep my features calm. And what about Acca?

You She pins me with another withering gaze. Mother can always sense when Im hiding something.

Unfortunately for me, I am.

Me I say slowly. Youre about to say how wonderful I am, right? Running the government, fighting demons? You couldnt wish for a finer prince. Normally, this reply gets me a half-smile at least.

Not this morning.

Mother leans back on her bench, and I can almost picture the gears of her mind whirring overtime. Youre an excellent son. Thats not what concerns me. Her nostrils flare. You danced with Lady Adair at the ball last night.