Stepping down from the stool, I sit beside Mom. “Armageddon ‘inspected’ our school today.” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say ‘inspected.’ “He killed one of the teachers for no reason.”

“Oh, my. Did the Oligarchy show up?”

“No.”

“It’s what they should have done. With their Group Think, they knew exactly what was happening by the second. Armageddon was testing them.”

“Well, they failed that test, big-time.” What a bunch of bozos the Oligarchy are.

“Those four, let’s just say they don’t like facing unpleasant realities.”

I fidget. “If the demons ever do attack, what would we do?”

Mom looks around the room for a time, then she nods. “Back when I was Senator, we built a series of bunkers where the government could hide out. In there, we had everything we needed to keep working: food, water, armor, communications equipment, and even Senate robes. The bunkers were top secret and built so that no pure demon could get in or out.”

“That sounds great, only they didn’t really work last time, right?”

“The Senate thought it would be ghouls or demons who attacked, never that they’d team up into a single demon-and-ghoul-army. But they did unite. The ghouls created portals to bring in the demon army. It was all over before anyone reached the bunkers. The Angels and thrax came to fight for us, but in the end there wasn’t too much they could do. All we got were slightly better terms in the final peace treaty.”

“You know what, Mom?” I rest my head on her shoulder. “I think we may need one of those bunkers soon.” Anxiety prickles over my skin.

Mom pats my hand. “I think so too, Myla-la.”

19

Cissy rushes through the opened door of her lavish bedroom, two huge garment bags gripped in her left hand. In her right, she holds a pair of boxes wrapped in string. “Our gowns are finally here!” She gently sets the packages onto her pink bedspread. “The Great Ladies dropped them off.”

I check my watch. Only a few hours to go before Lincoln’s farewell ball begins. Good thing I’m not one of those types who needs a million years to get ready. I glance at the gowns and frown. “That’s strange. You’d think they’d have something better to do.”

Cissy hangs the gowns side-by-side in her closet. Hers is green and black, mine’s red and gold. “How do you know? Maybe it’s an ancient thrax tradition.”

“Maybe.” With the thrax, you never know. I wouldn’t be shocked if they had a tradition for which way toilet paper falls off the roll.

Cissy claps her hands. “Let’s get dressed!” She quickly shuts the bedroom door, then she and I peel down to our underwear.

A portal appears by Cissy’s closet; Walker steps through. “Good evening, Myla. You have been called to serve.”