Wrapping my hands around Cissy’s, I speak in a low voice. “Remember, greater demons have an aura that causes fear and panic.”

She nods quickly. “The angels said that in class the other day.”

Armageddon steps closer to our aisle. I shoot Cissy what I hope is a calming look, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this, either. I’ve only been close to Armageddon a handful of times. And each one sucked. “Brace yourself.”

Then, it hits. A wall of terror crashes into my body, freezing me in place. Cissy’s hands tremble violently under my own. Unable to turn away, I watch Armageddon speed to the front of the gymnasium, his legs and coattails a blur of movement. Behind him, the Manus demons lumber along on their stumpy gorilla-style legs, knuckles dragging.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. This is bad, very bad.

The Headmaster cowers to one side as Armageddon approaches the podium. Between us, there’s now enough distance that I no longer feel the terror of a greater demon’s presence. I scan the teacher’s stiff bodies. Some of their brows are pockmarked with black sweat. Their turn to feel the full force of Armageddon.

The King of Hell grips the edges of the podium. “This is a demon inspection.” He scans the room, his upper lip bent with a sneer. I might be imagining things, but he seems to find me in the crowd, his gaze glowing red with recognition. “I’m Armageddon.”

My terror-level kicks up a few notches. No way am I imagining this. Twice I’ve stopped Armageddon from getting a purely evil soul into Heaven—first, with the Choker and then Deacon—and he sure looks like the type to hold a grudge. The thought crosses my mind that I might not leave here alive. I grip Cissy’s hands more firmly. A thin sheen of sweat coats our skin.

Armageddon’s three-knuckled fingers grip the podium so firmly, it looks ready to snap in two. “You all look…Ready.”

Miss Thing sniffles a bit, her face lined with long black streaks from her tears. Armageddon struts over to her, pausing before her in the long line of teachers. Her shoulders visibly shake. “Do I frighten you?”

Her voice comes out a ragged whisper. “Yes.”

Armageddon’s mouth winds until an evil grin. “I see.” The King of Hell grips Miss Thing’s shoulder; she gasps. Red light blazes from under her gray flesh, causing her skin to char and crack.

An odd chill creeps over my body. This can’t be real. The King of Hell cannot be sucking the soul from a teacher in front of the entire student body. Why aren’t one of the teachers doing something to protect her? Or better yet, the Oligarchy?