I glance at Verus on her white throne; her blue eyes gleam. She quickly rises to her feet. “What say you, SKE-12? Is this how the match should proceed?”

Everyone holds their breath as Sharkie considers his reply. A droplet of black sweat trickles down his gray cheek. There’s more at stake here than a weapon, but I can’t put my finger on it. My fingers twitch anxiously at my sides.

Sharkie’s knobby Adam’s apple flicks up and down as he swallows. “The ghouls shall allow a single weapon for this fight only.”

Verus quirks her eyebrows. “Such a surprise.” Her glance flicks to me with a look that says ‘this turn of events is anything but a shock’. I feel like that’s meant to comfort me somehow, but it doesn’t.

My mind whirls through everything that happened this morning: Deacon choosing me so quickly, Armageddon conjuring a weapon for him, and Verus giving me a fighting suit. It all adds up to one fact.

Verus wasn’t the only one who noticed when I killed the Choker.

Clearly, Armageddon’s taken an interest in me as well. In his mind, I must be the only thing standing between him and a purely evil soul in Heaven. I pull my suit’s protective mask over my face, feeling new waves of adrenaline course through me. Of course, this was no surprise to Verus; she’s an Oracle. I grit my teeth in frustration. Would have been nice to get more of a heads-up than a new suit, lady.

Sharkie slams his staff on the ground. “Let the match begin!” Deacon turns from misty ghost into solid human. He picks up the whip, shaking out its length before him. My breath catches. Fighting hand-to-hand? No problem. Battling an armed opponent? I am so fucked. For the first time since I was twelve, the thought flashes through my mind that I might actually die here. Terror zings through my nervous system.

Deacon flicks his wrist; the coil unfurls. Red hellfire erupts along the weapon’s length. The human’s face twists into an evil grin. Fast as a heartbeat, my opponent brings his arm up, snapping the whip down with a loud CRACK.

The next thing I know, I’m choking to death, a fiery whip wrapped about my neck. Terror courses through my nervous system, causing my inner demon to cower with fright.

Pulling up my tail, I try slicing the cord around my throat, but it’s no use. I have precious seconds of consciousness left. Turning to my enemy, I jump into the air, crouching my boots beneath me. I slam my feet into Deacon’s chest. My body jolts backwards as my heels connect with his ribs. Deacon stumbles, fumbling with the handle of his whip. I land beside him, trying to keep the cord as slack as possible.

This is my chance. Grab that whip before he regains control of it.