Minutes tick by. I hop in place, cracking my neck from side to side. Man, I hate waiting around. Pisses. Me. Off. My inner wrath demon awakens, sending my tail in arc over my shoulder. New emotions—rage and frustration—combine with the terror that overwhelmed me before. Makes me feel better, actually. My shoulders loosen, getting ready to hit something.

Finally, a long portal opens in the center of the Arena floor. Out of it steps six ghouls carrying a stretcher. The Scala lies atop it, deep in sleep. Nearby stands the Scala Heir in her white robes. Her head is held high (a little too high, in the opinion of the real Scala Heir) as she scans the crowd.

Adair raises her hand. “I’d like to say something, if I may?”

Sharkie bows. “Of course, oh, Scala Heir.”

“I was so touched when this random ghoul visited me and asked if I could join you people today. It really shows you’ve come to revere me. Thank you. Really.”

I shoot a glance toward Lincoln. His gaze shifts between me and Adair; he shakes his head from side to side. I know exactly what he’s thinking: she should never be here without any thrax to protect her.

Dingbat.

Sharkie pounds his staff onto the stadium floor. “Now we shall–”

Armageddon sniffs. Sharkie and the stadium fall silent. “I was not finished.”

My muscles tighten as fear crawls up my spine. I don’t like the smug grin rounding Armageddon’s mouth. What could he possibly have to say? Get on with the match already.

Muscles twitch in the emcee’s gray neck. In her balcony, Verus grips her throne, her blue eyes narrowing into slits. A long pause follows, then Sharkie stammers out one word: “Ye…Yes?”

Rising to his feet, Armageddon shoots his thin arms high. “ATTACK!”

My body freezes with shock. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

What happens next takes seconds, but each one ekes by in what feels like years, beginning with demons streaming out of the stands and onto the Arena floor. I gasp, suddenly realizing why all the part-Furor fighters in Purgatory—every top quasi warrior we have—were brought together in the Arena today:

To wipe us all out at once.

I scan the top lip of the stadium. The Oligarchy stand stunned, their skeletal heads wagging. They stumble about for a bit, then step into their own portals and disappear. The main exit goes with them.

Thanks a lot, assholes.

In the white stands, the angels form an ad hoc group around Verus’s balcony, but it’s unclear if they want to protect her or look for escape. Either way, these aren’t warriors. The demon fighters close in with military precision, slaughtering their way through the angel spectators to reach Verus and her entourage.

My body shivers with icy shock. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.