The plan is simple. Inside the bunker, I’ll bring together representatives from angels, thrax, quasis, and ghouls. Then, I’ll force everyone to decide how to defeat Armageddon. Oh yes, and we’ll also make a pact to free Purgatory after the defeating part is over. Lincoln will play thrax representative for the parlay. The Oligarchy represent the ghouls, and I’m covering the quasis. Once Verus shows up, we’ll have a delegate from the angels and we can get started.
The room shakes again. The metal shelves rattle, cans and boxes tumble to the floor. I wince. Armageddon’s getting busy.
A portal opens nearby, its edges blurry. Through it steps Walker, Verus, and Levi, one of the angels who trained my class at school. Was that only weeks ago? It feels like a million years. Walker’s face looks pale again. His mouth creases in pain.
I rise to my feet. “Walker, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He waves his hand. “Please continue.”
My head tilts to one side. “Talk to me. What happened?”
Walker forces a smile. “The Oligarchy are right, there’s some interference in Group Think. I got injured creating the portal, but it’s nothing I can’t self-heal if given some time.”
“Thank you.” My voice cracks when I speak. “Be well.” I watch him step away, my face twisting with a frown.
Lincoln gives my hand a squeeze. “He’ll be fine. We need to focus on the negotiations.”
I nod my head once and retake my seat. “Right.”
“Greetings, everyone.” Verus slides into a chair on my opposite side, carefully straightening her white robes in the process. I feel a weight lift off my body, one I didn’t know I was carrying. After the fight in the Arena, I wasn’t sure Walker would even find Verus alive. I guess I’ve gotten attached, despite her sneakiness.
Levi takes a position behind Verus’s chair, his silver armor gleaming in the dim light. Neither of them are showing their wings.
Verus looks at my eyes for a long time, her face positively beaming. “You’ve now taken your true form as the Great Scala.” Every inch of her seems to scream ‘and isn’t that the greatest thing ever?’
I squirm in my seat. In my book, my Scala powers are bad news. “Yup. I’m the Great Scala.” For now.
Verus nods. “Excellent.” She gestures to the group. “I welcome this opportunity to parlay.” She spots Lincoln and I holding hands. “You two have formed an attachment?”
“We have.” I stare at her through narrowed eyes. “One of these days, I’d like to discuss your skills as matchmaker.”
The lead angel’s smile broadens. “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”
Lincoln arches his eyebrow. “Some of us didn’t.”
Another sonic boom shakes the walls as Armageddon tries breaking into the bunker. Time to get negotiating.
Leaning back in my chair, I take a long look around. Lincoln, Verus, the Oligarchy, and I all sit in a circle. Verus’s guard Levi stands behind her. Walker has taken up position behind me. Mom, Cissy, and Zeke are in the antechamber, sorting through supplies. Adair’s doing…Eh, who cares what she does?
I inhale a deep breath. Here’s where the plan really begins. Straightening my shoulders, I try to ignore the little butterflies with big sledgehammers that have taken up residence in my stomach.
Remember, Myla: just get through today.
I clear my throat. “We’re all here to represent the four peoples affected by Armageddon’s attack on Purgatory: angels, ghouls, thrax, and quasis. Our goal’s to come up with a plan to defeat Armageddon and change how Purgatory’s run.”
The Oligarchy snarl. “Change Purgatory?”
I bite my lips together. “I’m pretty sure something needs to change or we wouldn’t be sitting in a bunker with Armageddon pounding over our heads. But first things first. Who knows what’s happening outside?”
My gaze flips to the ceiling as I think about Armageddon and his demons roaming the lands above. Pangs of worry and anger strum through me. My home, under attack.
“I can make a report,” says Verus. “The demons from the Arena have fanned out all over Purgatory, killing quasis and ghouls alike.” Her eyes flare blue. “They’ve used their inspections to scope out exactly how and where to strike. It’s a precision bloodbath.”
Lincoln shakes his head. “Do we know how many are outside the bunker right now?”
Verus nods. “A few hundred. About five thousand in total roam Purgatory.”
Lincoln gestures to the Oligarchy. “Can your ghouls transport those demons out of here?”
My head bobs up and down. That’s a good idea. Millions of ghouls live in the Dark Lands. It’d take only a few hundred to portal outside the bunker, grab the demons and go.
The Oligarchy tilt their heads to one side. “We can open portals, but getting demons to step into them in another matter. With few exceptions, ghouls aren’t warriors.” The Oligarchy shoot a knowing look at Walker. I suck in a quick breath. Of course. Walker’s a descendant of Aquila, and she kicks ass in a big way. Walker and the Aquilinea are probably the best fighters the ghouls have.
Behind my chair, I hear Walker shift his weight. “It’s possible to call the Aquilinea, though that’s only a few dozen warriors. Can the Dark Lands supply the rest?”
“Sadly, no.” As they say this, the Oligarchy don’t look sad in the slightest. They’re so full of it. “We’d like to discuss other options for appeasing Armageddon. Perhaps if the new Scala were to journey to Hell, then Armageddon and his army would vacate–”
I grip the edges of my metal chair, my eyes flaring red with rage. It’s one thing to think you can manipulate an old man on a stretcher. And Adair? If you promised her an adoring audience in Hell, she’d probably go willingly. But no way am I turning into their patsy. Crap like this is exactly why this job sucks and I don’t want it. I open my yap, ready to tell them all that and more, when Lincoln takes to his feet.
The Prince sets a protective hand on my shoulder. “That’s not going to happen.”
The Oligarchy smile, showing four mouths of identical ragged teeth. “Why not? She has the old Scala’s power. The igni can take her to Hell and back.”
“Really?” My mouth arches into a snarl. “If I’m transporting anywhere, it’s to Heaven.” Which isn’t a bad idea at that.
Verus guesses my thoughts. “The Gates of Heaven limit what igni may transport. Only the dead may pass through.”
“But there are no such restrictions in Hell.” The Oligarchy smile in unison, which is super-creepy to watch. “Surely you can transport there, defend yourself, and return at your leisure.”
Rage courses through me. I grip the chair so tightly, the metal twists in my palms. “Yeah, me against all of Hell. That’s a great idea.” Dicks.
Verus’s eyes flare blue. “The angels stand with the thrax. Sending the Scala into Hell is not an option.”
Closing my eyes, I force myself to take a few deep breaths. Don’t let them sidetrack you. Stay focused on the plan. “Thank you.” I look from Verus to Lincoln. “Both of you.”
Lincoln retakes his seat; his fingers weave with mine again.
“Now that sending me into certain death is off the table.” I shoot an angry glance at the Oligarchy. “Let’s hear some other ideas.”
“I have an army of angels at the ready,” says Verus. “Can you portal them in?”
The Oligarchy close their eyes. “We can’t.”
Verus groans. “Of course, you can. Even if every ghoul in Purgatory were dead, you’ve millions back in the Dark Lands who can pick up our troops.”
Lincoln nods. “I can have thrax warriors ready as well.”
Beads of black sweat drip down the Oligarchy’s cheeks. “We did not say won’t. We said can’t. Group Think is blocked.”
Twisting about, I search Walker’s face. “Is this true?”
Walker lowers his head. His features crease in concentration. “Group Think is silent.” A muscle twitches by his mouth. “No one can cr
eate portals without it.” He frowns. “It was unstable before when I portaled in Verus and Levi. Now it’s gone.”
The Oligarchy’s faces turn slack. “Even our people of the Dark Lands cannot portal to us now.” They look downright mopey. Good. They were only hanging around because it was a safe place to negotiate. Plus, Tim had conveniently organized all their bargaining chips here in the form of my mother and Adair. I’m sure they never expected they’d become prisoners too. Now we’re all in the same boat. Hope sparks in my chest. That can only help us work together.
Still facing Walker, I drum my fingers on the back of the chair, memories flashing through my mind. Images from the Arena iconigration flicker through my consciousness. What happened that day—it must have been a test. I snap my fingers, then point at Walker. “Do you remember the iconigration? The pig demon Clementine opened a briefcase for Armageddon.”
“I remember,” says Walker. “It stopped the Scala’s carriers from opening a portal. I’d never seen anything like it before.”
Then, I said ‘Armageddon was up to something’ and you told me not to worry, Mr Smarty Pants. Not that I’ll point that out right now. Although I’m really-really-really tempted to.
I tap my knee with my pointer finger. “That was Armageddon’s way of testing a system for blocking Group Think, I’m certain of it.”
Verus wags her head from side to side. “That makes sense. Armageddon would need a way to stop ghouls from portaling in armies for a counter-attack. He’d never start this war without having thought that through. I’m afraid we’re locked in for the duration.”
I turn to Lincoln. I know this is a total long shot, but I have to ask. “How about the thrax back in Purgatory?”
The Prince frowns. “I had some top warriors here, but everyone was returning to Antrum today with transport ready to go. Once the fighting started, protocol requires an immediate evacuation. They’re all long gone, I’m afraid.”
That news shouldn’t make me so sad—after all, I knew it was a long shot—but suddenly the all-aloneness of our situation seems all too clear. It’s just the people in this bunker against Armageddon and his army.
Damn, this Scala job sucks.
Verus sighs. “Without ghoul transport, armies must cross no-man’s land to reach the Gates of Purgatory. That takes months. At the rate the demon army’s moving, this war will be over in hours.” She rubs her forehead. “Which is as Armageddon planned.”
The Oligarchy rise to their feet, their long crimson robes swaying. “We have one option remaining. Send the Scala to Hell. Draw Armageddon from our lands.” Their bony hands all point in my direction.
Unholy Hell. I cannot freaking believe we are back to this stupid idea again. I’m about to lay into the Oligarchy with the mother of all ‘screw you’ speeches, when I hear it. Sweet music. A mix of tiny voices. The igni have returned.
Lincoln and Verus leap to their feet, yelling at the Oligarchy about their lame idea. The ghoul’s eyes all glow red as they scream their response, which basically amounts to ‘what else can we do?’ I close my eyes, feeling the Scala power within me shift and grow. The many igni voices align until they speak as one. Suddenly, it’s very clear what they want me to do. Although as options go, it sucks, big time.
I set my palms on my eyes, my internal debate raging with the igni. They keep pointing out a path to victory, I keep saying that this Scala job is the pits. I won’t do their crazy idea. No, no, no! But after a while, I finally cave. They’re right; this is the only choice we have left. Damn.
I rise to my feet. “I’ll go.”
Everyone falls silent.
Verus blinks her eyes in disbelief. “What did you say?”
Please don’t make me repeat this a million times. I hate this idea enough already. “I said, I’ll go outside and face Armageddon. Send him back to Hell with my Scala power.” And so help me, if I live through this, I am chucking these igni out of my head, STAT.
“You can’t.” Lincoln’s face twists with worry. “They’ll kill you, and that’s if you’re lucky.”
I let out a long breath. I tried this line of reasoning with the igni. It didn’t work. “If I go outside and hide so they can’t see me, I might have a chance.” Did I mention I hate this idea?
Lincoln steps in front of me, taking both my hands in his. “You think you can send all the demons to Hell?”
No, I think I have a legion of insane lightning bolts inside my head. But I’m not telling him that. This plan is risky enough as it is; the only shot we have is if we all believe it’s possible and work from there. I force myself to look stony and resolved, or something close to it. “Yes, Lincoln. That’s exactly what I can do.”
Lincoln nods. “Then you have my full support.” I have a sinking feeling that he’s lying through his teeth too, but I love that he has my back.
Walker turns to me, his face drawn with worry. “You saw the old Scala at the iconigration. He almost collapsed sending a few dozen icons to heaven. Even at his best, he could only move a few hundred at a time in one place. You’re talking about five thousand demons across all of Purgatory.”
Anger boils up my spine. “You’re being a downer, Walker. I’m a first-generation archangel, whatever that is. Plus, I’m an Arena fighter, a Lewis, and someone with a lot to lose. I can do this.” I slap on another super-confident face in spite of my insides, which positively writhe with nervous energy.
Verus retakes her seat. “Armageddon doesn’t know there’s a new Scala. He won’t be expecting one to attack.”
“Exactly.” I turn to the Oligarchy. “And what if I’m able to do it? Will you agree to change how Purgatory is run?”
The Oligarchy’s coal-black eyes flare red. “How would it change?”
“This land returns to quasi rule,” says Verus. “And we set up a special force of ghouls, thrax, quasis, and angels to help patrol the borders.”
My eyebrows pop up. Clever Verus. I nudge the angel with my elbow. “Nice idea.” Her mouth rounds with a smile.
The Oligarchy fold their skeletal arms over their chests. “Never.”
I huff out a breath. Patience is not my strong suit, and what little I had was wasted today on Adair. Now that little word pushed me over the edge. I flash Lincoln a red-eyed look of rage. I try to whisper my question, but maybe don’t do the best job. “Can I kill just one?”
A smile gleams in Lincoln’s eyes. “I got this, Myla.” He turns to the Oligarchy, his face becoming stony and unreadable. “Think this through, mighty Oligarchy.” His voice sounds so calm and confident, even though I know he’s nervous inside. How does he do that? “You’re trapped in a bunker. Any minute now, Armageddon could break in. When he does, he’ll keep his promise to kill you all.”
The Oligarchy shift uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging nervous looks. Yay, they finally accept the truth about Armageddon.
Lincoln gestures to me. “Once Myla sends the demons to Hell—and I have every confidence that she will—you’ll lose control of Purgatory, but you’ll keep your lives and the Dark Lands. That’s the offer on the table.” He leans forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “If you don’t agree, then once Myla wins, we’ll offer you the same terms as Armageddon. Death.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Do we understand each other?”
I love it when Lincoln’s bossy. My lust demon comes up with the super idea to jump the Prince right here and now, but I have to overrule it. Shame, though.
Armageddon’s army sends another volley of who-the-hell-knows at the ground around us. More cans and bottles tumble to the floor. Bits of concrete dust waft down from the ceiling.
Lincoln shakes his head. “Armageddon isn’t far now. Every moment we delay makes it harder for Myla…And you.”
Moving in unison, the four ghouls brush white dust from their blood-red robes. “The Oligarchy agrees.”
Sheesh, finally.
“Excellent.” Verus lets out a satisfied sigh. “I’ll draft up binding documents for t
he treaty.” She turns to me and Lincoln. “Great job.”
“Thanks.” I slump into my chair, the reality of this treaty washing over me. To save Purgatory, I agreed to send Armageddon and his army back to Hell. Anxiety and adrenaline fight their way through my system. Minutes tick by while everyone scurries around with last-minute preparations and I freak myself out by thinking of everything that can go wrong with this plan. Finally, I decide that I’ll go crazy if I sit around here any longer.
I turn to Lincoln and exhale a long breath. “Time to face my demons.”
Lincoln gives my hand a squeeze; there’s no question he’ll go with me. We share a sad smile. In a few minutes, we’ll waltz out to Armageddon’s army where I’ll test my new Scala powers on all of Purgatory.
Not exactly a sure thing.
“Wait, Myla.” Mom steps into the main chamber from the antechamber. She’s now wearing her Senator’s robes. She looks regal, lovely, and strong. Cissy stands beside her in white robes with purple trim, the gown of a junior senator. Zeke wears black body armor with the quasi seal on his shoulders: a circle on interlocking stars. Adair’s nowhere to be seen, which is nice.
I gasp. It’s like they stepped out of a history book from the Ryder library.
“What’s this about, Mom?” She once said something about the bunkers holding Senate robes, but I can’t imagine how dressing up could help now.
“Verus just told us about the treaty.” Mom makes a regal gesture around the room. “I am still the Diplomatic Senator of the quasi people. I will request parlay with Armageddon, then go outside with my guard and junior senator. Hopefully, we can distract him for a time while you get started.”
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