She chuckles. “This was seven hundred years ago, I think. Demons had just invaded Antrum. The archangel Aquila was called in to help.”

“Why her?”

“Archangels are very rare, very powerful. The story is that Aquila fell in love with a thrax and her children became the House of Rixa. They’re the only ones who can use these special weapons, I can’t remember the name.”

I picture Lincoln with his fiery broadsword. “Baculum.”

“That’s it. The Rixa drove out the demons and have ruled Antrum ever since.”

I let out a breath with a frustrated huff. Back at Zeke’s party, I was excited that Miss Thing taught me how thrax had mismatched eyes. Who knew there was so much more I wasn’t learning? “Wow. They don’t teach us any of this stuff in school.”

“Of course, not. They’re too busy brainwashing you into being slaves.”

My eyebrows pop up. That’s rather sassy talk from Mom.

“I’ll make you a list of books for your next visit to the Ryder library. I’ve let them fill your head with trash for too long.” She pulls up to the drop-off area in front of school. “And here we are.”

“Thanks, Mom. See you later.”

“Bye, now.”

As she drives away, I realize Mom said goodbye without hyperventilating and asking me to be safe. Awesome.

I walk into school and find my best friend leaving the little girl’s room.

“Morning, Cissy.”

“Hey, Myla.”

I wag the invitation by my ear. “Have I got a surprise for you!” I place the envelope in her hand. “And you’re going with me.”

Cissy opens the letter, reads, and jumps up and down.

“This is amazing! The Queen of the thrax, wow. The Ryders will be so excited. Can I show Zeke?”

“Sure, knock yourself out. I’ll catch up with you later.”

My first class is with my worst teacher, Miss Thing. I pick a seat in the last row, pull out my notebook, and scribble ‘I hate Prince Lincoln’ over and over.

Miss Thing raises her arms. “Class, today we’ll learn about Earth’s most important holiday. It’s a month-long celebration of ghoul superiority called Halloween.” She pulls open her top desk drawer. “I’ve some precious artifacts of this sacred celebration that I’ll pass around. But first, who can tell me why Halloween’s important to quasis?”

The room is silent.

“How about you, Paulette?”

Paulette looks up from her Prada purse. “What?”

Miss Thing groans. “Why’s Halloween important to quasis?”

“Because it’s about ghouls?”

“Exactly! And what’s important to ghouls is important to you.”

I frown. I’ve seen enough reruns on the Human Channel to know Miss Thing is wrong on this one. I raise my hand.

“Yes, Myla?”

“Isn’t a Halloween a human holiday where they dress up in costumes and go door to door for candy?”