“You were a Senator, Mom. Wow.” I slap the mattress in an excited rhythm. “I read something in a book that said you were one, but in the dreamscape I saw it like it was real.” I bite my thumbnail. “I guess that wasn’t a question, really.”

Mom pulls herself upright so she sits beside me. “Was that a book from the Ryder library?”

“Yes.” I shoot her a guilty look. “I totally left them a note when I took it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine that you borrowed it; I’m glad the book exists at all.” Mom lets out a long breath. “Zeke’s parents are remarkable people. You wouldn’t believe what went into keeping their mansion, let alone their library. It’s the last bit of our old world left. In many ways, our only connection to the outside realms.”

I could dance around the room, I am so pumped about the info I’m getting right now. Tell me more! “So, what was it like, being a Senator?”

“Let’s see.” Mom starts reciting facts like she’s leading a tour. “Purgatory once had a Senate with 100 representatives. Our family held the diplomacy seat for generations.”

My head wags from side to side. “How am I your daughter and this never came up in conversation with anyone?” I shoot her a look that says ‘and that means you, too.’

“No one noticed me after the war and I wanted to keep it that way.” She picks stray threads from her weathered comforter. “Armageddon took over Purgatory for one reason: to get more souls in Hell. In the Senate, we gave souls every chance to get to Heaven. It’s only fair. Demons don’t need souls to survive. Consuming souls is just a drug to them, a high.” Her eyes flash with a bit of red, something I’ve never seen before. I knew Mom had wrath powers like me, but I figured she somehow only inherited the tail and not the temper.

“How can we let them get away with this?” My eyes burn with anger. “The ghouls teach us that quasis are basically the biggest losers in history.” I point toward my room. “I’ll make copies of that book and hand it out to other kids at school. Maybe I’ll grab even more books from the library–”

“Myla, no!” Mom grips my hands. “We can’t take that risk. You have to understand. Armageddon’s war was more than a takeover; it was a massacre. He wanted to wipe out any memories of the old ways, the generosity, the tolerance. Who knows what they’d do if someone started bringing up the republic again?”

“I don’t care. People have a right to know.” I jut out my chin. “Besides, I’ve fought evil.”