“Did you have any strange dreams last night?”

“Nope.”

“Make any new friends?”

Besides the thrax High Prince?

“Cissy’s still my best friend, Mom.” Misleading but true.

Mom rounds on Walker. “What soul is she battling this morning?”

“The CEO of a financial conglomerate back on earth. Nasty fellow.” Unlike me, Walker’s a really good liar.

Mom eyes me carefully for a full minute. Her fingers slowly drum the tabletop. “I suppose it’s all right.”

Sweeeeeeeeeet.

I swallow my last bite of breakfast. “Let’s get going.”

Walker lowers his head. A crackling sound fills the air as a portal opens by our fridge. I take Walker’s hand in mine.

“See you later, Mom.”

She looks at me out of her right eye. “Uh-huh.” After my little performance with the Reperio demons, she’s on constant sneak-alert for everything I do. Not that I blame her.

Walker and I step into the portal, tumble through empty space, and walk out again into a darkened archway off the Arena floor. I’m actually starting to like portal travel.

I lean against the stone wall and look out across the stadium. Everything’s deserted.

“There used to be great ceremonies before an iconigration,” says Walker. “Now the Scala shows up, creates soul-columns and leaves.”

A low hiss echoes through the air. A portal opens along the Arena’s top level. Through it steps the tallest ghoul I’ve ever seen and someone I never wanted to see again: Armageddon.

I turn to Walker. “What’s tall, dark, and demonic doing here?”

He shrugs. “He comes to see his son sometimes.”

My tail arcs over my shoulder. My body goes on full alert.

Another figure steps out from the portal: a tiny woman in a high-necked red silk gown with a bustle on the back. She looks like something from earth in the 1800s, except for her pink skin, pig-snout nose, and tiny black eyes. Her hair’s a long piggy tail that winds into a bun behind her head. In her hoof-hand she holds a silver briefcase.

Armageddon, a ghoul and a few Manus demons all seat themselves in the black marble balcony. The King of Hell snaps his fingers over his shoulder. “Clementine. Now.” The pig-demon rushes onto the balcony, taking her seat beside Armageddon’s black stone throne. She opens the briefcase in her lap and fiddles with whatever’s inside. A high-pitched buzz rings softly in the air.

I nod to Walker. “What do you think Armageddon’s up to?”

“Who knows? He’s always doing strange things. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Humph. That attitude got Purgatory overrun in the first place.

A long portal opens in the center of the Arena floor. Through it steps six ghouls carrying a fancy stretcher. The old Scala lays atop the makeshift cot in his white robes, fast asleep. A thin white blanket is tucked beneath his chin.