Armageddon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stares into the briefcase in Clementine’s lap and grins. The light inside the case now blazes bright red. The buzzing grows louder.

I don’t care what Walker said. Whatever’s in that briefcase isn’t harmless plotting from Armageddon. It’s B-A-D. My skin prickles with alarm.

The King of Hell rubs his three-knuckled hands together. “Let’s see if this contraption is worth the price we paid.”

The six ghouls grab the Scala’s stretcher and bow their heads. The air crackles with energy. The edges of a portal appear and fade. Back sweat streams down the ghoul’s cheeks.

I shoot Walker a look. “What’s going on?”

Walker closes his eyes. “I don’t know. There’s no Group Think. That’s strange.”

“Do the Oligarchy talk in your head non-stop?”

“Always.” Walker’s face creases in concentration. “Though I can shut them off if I wish.” His focus grows more intense. “I’m not shutting them off now.”

Armageddon chuckles. “That’s enough, Clementine.” The pig-demon snaps her briefcase shut.

A portal immediately appears on the Arena floor. The ghouls smile nervously, lift the Scala’s stretcher and step through the black door-hole.

The demon leader takes to his feet. “We leave. Now.” He marches back to the stadium’s top level, orders his ghoul to open a portal, and vanishes into it along with Clementine and his Manus demon guard.

I frown. “He’s scheming again.”

Walker waves his hand dismissively. “He’s always scheming. I’ve seen strange things from him for twenty years now. I find that worrying about it isn’t productive.”

I open my yap, ready to argue my point, but decide not to bother. Normally, I’d fight with Walker on this for another ten minutes, minimum. But being in the Arena reminds me of Lincoln awarding my sword. Closing my eyes, I remember his mouth on mine in the botanical gardens and feel like a total fool. If he wanted to be in touch with me, he would have done it weeks ago.

Gritting my teeth, I bite back the urge to mope. “We should head back.”

Walker leans against the archway wall, his eyes glowing with a bit of red. “I hate to see the two of you like this.”

I absently pick moss off the uneven stones lining the wall. “The two of who like what?”

“You and Lincoln. Miserable.”

Wait a second. Did Walker say what I thought he said? “You know Lincoln?” My body goes on high alert.

“I do.” Walker’s mouth droops into a frown. “But I swore to never breathe a word of it.” A muscle twitches along his jaw. “It’s the artist in me. Too soft a heart.”

I step closer to him, careful to make every inch of me look as pleading and pathetic as possible. “Come on, don’t leave a girl hanging.”