Thus begins the usual kiss-assery that comes with being a demi-goddess. For the first few weeks it was fun, now it’s a major time suck. And I have a Ghost Tower about to explode and release three million homicidal spirits all over Purgatory. I hang up without saying goodbye and high-tail over to the Tower.

The building is almost in my backyard, but even if it wasn’t, Ghost Tower Six would still be easy to find. The place is massive, rectangular, windowless and made of concrete. I rush towards the only door, a round metal portal. A stocky guard in ninja-style body armor stands nearby. Like all natives of Purgatory, the guard and I are quasis, a mix of human and demon.

I shoot him a quick wave. “Hey, Harold.”

“Great Scala, thank Heavens you’ve come.” Harold sets his bare palm onto an input pad by the door. A series of clicks sound as the locks release. “It’s a code-red failure.”

“I know, buddy. I’m on it.”

A muscle twitches by Harold’s eye. “The Cloud Carriers are close to rupture. Maybe we should follow the ghoul-rules and—”

“If you say move the souls to Hell, I’ll kick you in the kneecaps.” Since I grew up fighting demons gladiator-style in Purgatory’s Arena, those kicks would hurt, too.

Harold’s face takes on a terrified look that I can only describe as ‘please don’t send me to Hell’. “I meant no disrespect, Great Scala.” He keeps standing there, cowering and not opening the door.

“You. Open. Portal. Now.”

“Yes, Great Scala. Right away, Great Scala.”

Sure, I could scold Harold for even suggesting Hell, but it wouldn’t do any good. Twenty years ago, the King of Hell invaded our lands, toppled the Quasi Republic, killed off anyone with a brain or spine, and set up ghouls as a puppet government. For the next two decades, the ghouls brainwashed quasis like Harold into mindless, submissive, rule-worshiping slaves. I kicked the ghouls out, but their brainwashing has stayed.

At last, the round portal swings open. I hurry inside.

The interior of the Ghost Tower is a concrete shell, noisy as Hell and empty of anything solid. There’s a Control Room about halfway up the wall. Wardens stand at each corner, all of them in simple white uniforms. It’s what fills this empty space that always takes my breath away. From floor to ceiling, the open air holds a shifting array of what look like clouds. They’re actually huge vessels that enclose souls in a misty containment field. We call them Cloud Carriers.

The Lead Warden, Celia, steps to my side, her lion’s tail twitching anxiously behind her. All quasis have an animal tail along with a power across the seven deadly sins. Celia’s is wrath. I have two deadly-sin powers—lust and wrath—as well as a long, thin dragon-scale tail. Totes badass.