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  I raise my fist to shoulder-height. “Right here, right now, this moment. We have a chance to change things. To take back what was stolen from us when Armageddon invaded twenty years ago. I need you to be strong with me. I need you to support these souls and have patience. And if you’re in this room, I need you to have something more. Restraint. As members of the press, you have the ability to incite riots that could tear Purgatory apart.”

  I point towards the door. “You’ve all seen the angry mobs on the way here. I urge you to be responsible. Wait until tomorrow morning. I assure you, we will find that Orb. And finding it, we will fully return to the Purgatory that we once were.” My eyes glow a bright shade of angelic blue. “I am the Great Scala, and that is my promise.”

  I quickly hustle over to Mom, and speak in a low voice. “What should I do next?” Now that I’m away from the microphone, I’m starting to question my choice of holding a major press event in seven hours. “Do you think it was a good idea to have a Grand Unveiling? Should we cancel it or something?”

  “Not at all. Opening up tomorrow’s Unveiling to the press is a brilliant idea, Myla. You quieted the crowd and stopped any rioting tonight. Next, we need to get to the warehouse and plan the event at double-speed.” She gestures towards the stairs leading off the stage. “You and Lincoln should leave now. I’ll close things out here.” Mom steps up to the podium and begins to speak, but I don’t hear her words. Instead, I focus on grabbing Lincoln’s hand and finding our way back to the limo. Once we’re safely inside, he wraps me in a big hug.

  “Excellent work. Octavia couldn’t have done any better.”

  A happy blush crawls up my cheeks. Getting compared to Octavia? That’s high praise, indeed. “Thanks.”

  He cups my face in his hands. “What a Queen you’ll make one day.”

  For a few blissful seconds, all I can think about are Lincoln’s gentle hands and kind words. After that, the adrenaline in my system goes haywire, focusing on all the things that could go wrong tomorrow. “I’m not so sure about that. We’ve only got seven hours left to plan this Grand Unveiling. And we must allow Adair to attend since she’s our Thrax Diplomat. But what if she tries more sabotage? I hope I didn’t trade one fiasco tonight for something worse in the morning.”

  “Hey, you made the perfect call tonight.” He gestures to the tinted windows. Although an angry crowd still covers the sidewalk, the streets are now clear. “No riots, right?”

  I nod slowly, forcing myself to take calming breaths. “True.”

  “The way I see it, we have seven whole hours left to plan. We’ll miss some things, sure. But we’ll get more right than we do wrong. I believe in you, Myla.”

  I wrap him in a tight hug. A feeling of love and warmth blooms through my chest. “Thank you.”

  “Any time. I’m well-known for a good pep talk before battle.”

  I gently kiss his cheek. “I can see why.”

  The limo driver rolls down the partition between the front seat and back. “Where to?”

  Lincoln leans forward to chat up the driver. As we pull away from the curb, I’m feeling mighty pleased with my bad self. Opening up tomorrow’s Grand Unveiling to the press really was a good call. The streets are indeed safe tonight.

  That’s when I see it. A thrax reporter with glowing-red eyes. Demon-bright.

  I grab Lincoln’s hand. “Come, look!”

  He slips up beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  “The reporter in the purple tunic. Do you see his eyes?”

  He leans closer to the window. “Yes. Is something wrong with them?”

  “Of course, there is.” I point at the window. “They’re…”

  But the eyes aren’t red anymore. They’re the mismatched hues of every thrax.

  “They’re what, Myla?”

  I plunk back into my cushy seat and let out a long groan. “It’s been a super long-day. I might be seeing things.” I shake my head. “Mom said we should meet up at the warehouse. Let’s get over there.”

  “How about we get you some java along the way?”

  “I like that idea very much.” Once I start seeing things, it’s definitely time for extra coffee.

  Chapter Twelve

  6:14AM.

  I pace across the warehouse floor, anxious energy zinging through my limbs. Three minutes from now, our Grand Unveiling of Lucifer’s Orb will begin. Yipes. Beside me, reporters from across the after-realms are packed along the back wall, seated on tiered risers that reach from floor to ceiling. All their gazes are glued onto the movement of a little tin bird.

  At the far side of the warehouse, the enchanted bird in question flits above the aisles, landing one box, then another, continuing on in its mission to find Lucifer’s Orb at precisely 6:17AM. All last night, Lincoln and I packed this warehouse with every security precaution we could think of: alarms, guns, secret agents, obvious guards, you name it. Once that Orb is found, it’s staying in our control, end of story.

  I quickly check the risers and my heart lightens. Two minutes to go and still, no sign of Adair. Maybe the extra precautions weren’t necessary, after all. The knots of worry in my neck loosen, making me feel more calm and optimistic. Not so chill that I stop pacing in front of the risers, though.

  Lincoln waves me over. He stands on the left-side of the tiered seats, alongside my parents, Cissy, Walker, and the Alchemists. I’m feeling so good now; it takes an effort not to skip over to him.

  “What’s up?”

  “You might want to stop pacing in front of the reporters.”

  “Why, I’m not bothering anyone, am I?”

  “Far from it. The male members of the audience appreciate your parade in the extreme. I know I certainly am.” A mischievous gleam dances in his eyes. “It’s very-very cold in here, Myla.”

  “Oooooooh.” I forgot that my Scala robes leave nothing to the imagination. “You know, that’s a pretty pervy thing to notice.”

  He points to his face. “Uh, guy.”

  “Fine. I’ll stand here by you, then.”

  “Thought you might want to.”

  Now that I can’t pace anymore, I segue onto obsessively checking and re-checking the wall clock. 6:16AM on the nose. One more minute and we’ll find that Orb and ship it out of Purgatory. Woo-freaking-hoo. My body fills with a mixture excitement and relief. We’re about to do it, for real. Fix Soul Processing without sentencing millions of innocents to Hell…Or burning down Purgatory in a new round of Ghost Riots.

  I’m feeling mighty awesome indeed when Adair steps through the warehouse door.

  Boo.

  Yeah, I knew she’d probably show, but I was really-really-really hoping she’d find someone else to stalk today. Adair stands on the right-hand side of the risers, directly across from my family and friends. She brought a guest with her, as well: Gianna, the very same Striga witch who faked Adair’s igni powers at her pretend-initiation to become Scala Heir.

  Anxiety corkscrews up my torso. Gianna is here? That is so not-good.

  I turn to Lincoln. “Look who’s arrived.”

  “I saw.”

  “Do the Alchemists practice witchcraft?”

  “Not in the way Gianna does, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re more scientists than rapid-fire casters.”

  “Can we get our own witch in from Striga, then? Someone who can counteract Gianna?” I’m so hyped up, I could carry whoever-it-is back from the Pulpitum myself.

  “Not in the next sixty seconds,” explains Lincoln. “Which is undoubtedly why Adair arrived late.”

  “Crud.” I’m so frustrated, want to face-palm myself or kill something. We put every security measure in the book into this dumb warehouse, except for an extra warlock or witch. Didn’t Dad suggest that ages ago, too? How could I forget?

  “I can’t believe I missed this one. Gianna’s helped Adair before.”

  “It’s like I said last night, Myla. With seven hours to plan, we’ll miss some things. Even big things. I’
m sure I speak for all of us when I say that at this point, it’s your decision what to do next. Do you want to move forward or call this off?”

  I rub my neck, considering. Adair’s a sneaky type of evil, which isn’t necessarily my strong suit. I’m more of a straightforward fight-maim-kill kind of girl. I run through the implications of each decision, moving forward or calling it off. Both seem pretty sucky. Either I wait for Adair to show me up, or I retreat and look like a cursed liar. Either way, my people could still lose their freaking minds. Ghost Riots part two.

  The crowd on the risers lets out a collective gasp, interrupting my thoughts. I scan the warehouse, finding that our tin bird has finally stopped flitting from box to box. Now, it’s landed on a large crate marked Maxon Bane. There, it hops back and forth, stopping every so often to peck at the wood.

  All eyes turn to me. The bird’s stopped flying around. The Orb may have been discovered. I’m supposed to make a decision and do something. As in, right now. My heart pumps so hard, I hear blood whoosh in my ears.

  The energy level in the room goes through the roof. Lucifer’s Orb has been hidden for two millennia; seeing it unveiled is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. The crowd’s excitement pulses through me and suddenly, I’m back in the Arena, facing down my first demon at twelve years old. The sensations of that moment return to me, fierce and exciting. The dusty scent of the Arena air. Electric fear jangling my nerves. The crowd’s energy, pulling me onward. My warrior sense, roaring through my brain.

  This press event is the same thing. It has to be.

  I didn’t have any battle training when I was twelve, any more than I’ve done damage control in a press conference now. Still, I’m the kind of girl who runs into the Arena, kills now, asks questions later, and it all works out fine in the long run. A small voice in the back of my head says I’m far from the Arena these days, but I decide that voice is being a mega-wimp.

  Time to turn off my brain and go into warrior mode. Forget Adair and her schemes. Screw whatever Gianna’s going to do. I’m moving forward with our plan and, somehow, I’ll make it work.

  After taking a deep breath, I step in front of the risers and address the audience. Rapid-fire flash bulbs go off in my face. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today at the Grand Unveiling of Lucifer’s Orb.” The risers shake as reporters wave their arms, anxious to ask questions. I raise my hands to shoulder height, palms forward, which is the international sign for chill out. “Everyone, quiet down, now. I’ll get to your questions after we show you the Orb.” The press retake their seats.

  With a dramatic flourish, I point to the final crate of the tin bird’s journey. “As you know, the enchanted bird behind me has been following a series of linked magical objects. It’s a treasure hunt, if you will. At the end of this search—the last link in the chain—is Lucifer’s Orb.” The crowd lets out a gratifying chorus of oohs and ahs. “Let’s take a look.”

  I step halfway across the warehouse floor and pause. Something about this isn’t right.

  Then I realize what isn’t right. Me.

  I’m not in the Arena anymore. I’m the Great Scala. I can’t fight first and think later. Turning around, I scan the faces of my friends and family. Mom, Dad, Lincoln, Walker, Cissy, and the Alchemists. All of them trust my call on this Grand Unveiling. I can’t take that lightly. Turning on my heel, I walk back to the risers and press.

  Barf. As much as I hate to do this, I’m calling it off.

  I slap on my most confident demi-goddess face. “I appreciate your coming out today, and I’m sincerely sorry to have wasted your time. However—”

  Adair rushes forward, pointing her arm at me while yelling to the risers. “See, I told you all. She’s a liar. She doesn’t have the Orb. All she has is the Bloodstone Curse. I’m the True Scala. I’m the only one who’ll save you. Show them, Myla. Show them the Orb!”

  “I was just about to say that we aren’t showing anyone anything today.”

  “You promised. The box is right there.” Her eyes flare red. “Show them the Orb. We’ll go together.”

  I eye her carefully. She’s pushing me too hard, and getting too emotional, too quickly. It’s all quite fishy. “No, Adair.”

  Moving with almost supernatural speed, Adair races over to the crate and whips off the top. A huge puff of purple smoke rises from inside. Adair waves it away with her hands.

  I call to Walker. “Have the Guards clear out the area. Starting with her.”

  On hearing those words, Adair reaches into the box, her hands flailing around in the smoke. The crate is shoulder height, so she’s liable to fall inside if she isn’t careful.

  Adair’s muffled voice sounds from within the wooden box. “It’s not here. The Orb’s not here. I’ll prove it.”

  My mind freezes, capturing the moment. If she’s so certain the Orb’s not here, why make an ass out of herself? The girl’s about to topple head-over-heels in front of every major reporter in the after-realms.

  I step up behind Adair, grab her by the waist, and haul her out of the crate. Once she’s vertical again, I take care to wrap my tail around her wrists, preventing any igni-thievery. “Calm down, Adair. You’ll hurt yourself at this rate.”

  Her eyes turn wild with fear. “I have to show them. All of them. This crate is empty. Let me look around some more. I’ll show you.” She writhes under my tail.

  “And why on Earth would I let you do that?” A trio of guards steal up behind Adair.

  “Because I have to check. I have to show them all.”

  “Smoke clears on its own, Adair. They’ll see soon enough if it’s empty.”

  And watching her try to wriggle free of my tail and leap into the crate, Adair’s scheme for today’s event becomes crystal-clear. Gianna must’ve cloaked the Orb inside the box. Now, Adair wants to take it for herself. All she needs to do is hide the Orb for a few days and the Ghost Towers will blow. My people will panic. Adair will be proclaimed Great Scala. The quasis will force me to give her my igni, or even worse, take my life. She’ll have won.

  A guard sets his hand on Adair’s arm, and she goes freaking berserk. “Unhand me! I’m a diplomat!”

  Oh yeah, she wants that Orb, all right. Badly.

  Hundreds of flashbulbs pop as three guards drag Adair off the warehouse floor. The whole time, she keeps yelling about inspecting the damn crate. “It’s my right to show you! She’s lying! There is no Orb!”

  No Orb, my ass.

  Once she’s gone, the guards start evacuating the press. The reporters don’t like being led away much better than Adair did. As they’re walked to the door, they call out question after question, everything from ‘when did you know you were cursed?’ to ‘why did you lie about the Orb?’ and ‘what will you do about the pending riots?’

  I suppose all the nasty questions and blinding flash bulbs should leave me flipped out and-or pissed off. I’m neither. All I can think about is that Orb.

  Please please pleeeeeeease let it be in the crate.

  My heart hammers against my rib cage, its beat more powerful with every second. An idea has appeared in my mind and if the Orb is still here, I may actually have a chance at beating Adair.

  I keep standing and looking goddess-like until they’re all gone, Walker’s guards included.

  It’s just my friends and family now. Time to check if my assumptions about Adair and the Orb are right.

  I rush over to the wooden crate marked Maxon Bane. All the smoke’s cleared away, so I can easily lean over and look inside.

  Nothing. Nada. Empty.

  My friends and family step up to the crate as well. Walker’s the first to speak. “That can’t be empty. I tell you, my calculations were correct. The Orb is in this warehouse. And the tin bird was enchanted perfectly. The Orb simply has to be in that crate.”

  “Then it is, Walker.” I turn to the Alchemists. “Gianna cast some kind of cloaking spell on the Orb. Find it.”

  “Are you sure?” asks Erik. “Sh
e could have sent it somewhere else, too.”

  “No, did you see the way Adair fought to get something out of this crate? The Orb is in here, no question. Do your magic-thing and get it out.”

  “Yes, Great Scala.” Erik and his buddies start pouring over the crate, discussing what kind of spell Gianna could have used. Minutes tick by while they try different counter-charms and enchantments. At last, a puff of red smoke rises from the crate’s interior.

  “Eureka!” Erik reaches into the crate, pulling out a small golden ball covered in a pattern of angel wings.

  That’s it. Lucifer’s Orb.

  I stare at the glittering surface. After so many days of imagining finding this thing, I can’t believe it’s really in Erik’s hands. Then again, Erik can be a tricky little bastard sometimes.

  “This isn’t one of your pranks, is it?”

  “Nuh-uh.” Erik offers me the Orb. “Do you want it?”

  “No, give it to Walker. He needs to take some pictures and run some tests.” We talked about this before; we’ll eventually need proof for the papers that the Orb was found. And as for the tests? Walker tried to explain them to me, but my eyes glazed over after about ten seconds.

  Erik hands the Orb to Walker, who turns it over in his palms. “The energy signature on this thing is unbelievable. I can even feel it against my skin. I won’t know for certain until I run some tests, but it may take some time before the Orb’s affect on Purgatory wears off.”

  I suck in a nervous breath. “Like, how long?” If he says he doesn’t know, I’ll have a coronary.

  “No more than a few days, tops.”

  Relief washes through me. “That’s fine. We’ll need some time to set up the iconigration ceremony, anyway.”

  “I’ll stay with Walker and the Orb,” says Dad. “The second those tests are done, I’ll run it up to Heaven. We’ve a special vault where the Orb will be safe.”

  Mom sets her hands in the pockets of her suit-jacket. She’s all business now. “I’ll call an emergency press conference immediately. Adair’s accusations should be all over the news within an hour—Myla’s supposed curse, Adair being the true Scala, the Ghost Towers ready to explode, and my people about to be murdered. I’ll let everyone know the Orb’s been recovered and within a few days, we can move souls safely. That should calm the worst of their fears.”