She steps even closer. “Say you’re going to the tournament.”
With my palms still at shoulder-level, I waggle them from side to side in the universal sign for ‘calm down.’ “Let me think about it.” I cock my head to the right, considering. A tournament could be cool—I’d love to catch some new demon-fighting tricks. Then, I picture Lincoln’s face. Anger boils through my body, melting away all thoughts until I can’t remember why I was contemplating this stupid tournament in the first place. “Not a chance.”
Cissy bares her teeth, her eyes flaring with an almost blinding red light. She turns on her heel and marches away.
Oh, no.
This hasn’t happened since the third grade, and it’s the kryptonite to my super sassy-mouth:
The silent treatment from Cissy.
Once she’s a safe distance, I rev up Betsy and putter home, assessing my new friendless state along the way. Cissy’s out of control right now, but she can’t stay fired up forever. At least, I don’t think she can. I bet she’ll return to her normal, sweet self in a few days, tops. Yeah that’s it. I march through my front door, say my hellos to Mom, and plunk onto the couch to spend some quality time with the Human Channel.
Half-way through a Scooby-Doo marathon, I fall into a deep sleep. Within seconds, I’m dreaming of the Gray Sea.
Chapter Eleven
In my dreamscape, I return to the dark sands of the Gray Sea. I stand on the warm ground, the stench of sulphur thick in my lungs. Kneeling to the earth, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A ring of white flame appears. The sand within the circle rises, forming into the shape of my mother. More of the desert crawls upward, creating the outline of a room surrounding her.
The ring of fire flares brighter, then it fades away. Before me, the figures change. Instead of being made from sand, they’re now flesh and bone. I scan the scene, seeing a busy Senate chamber made of white marble. Wooden benches line the floor, all of them filled with quasis in purple robes, their many different tails swaying in the same slow rhythm. In the front of the space, my mother stands behind a tall wooden podium. The Senators watch her from the benches, their attention fixed.
Mom grips the podium’s edges. “My proposal with Senator Myung is an important step forward in fair after-life treatment for human souls. Too often, souls reach Purgatory without any comfort or support from the guardian angels who protected them during their lifetime.”
Xavier slips through the back door of the Senate chamber and stands along the far wall. He wears a gray suit with a blue tie that highlights his turquoise eyes. As he watches Mom, his stern face softens into a smile. A warm feeling spreads through my chest. The two of them must have worked out their differences. Nice job, Mom.
My mother scans the crowd. “This bill will help guardian angels find their human’s soul after death, just as previous legislation helps their tempting demon find them today. Please respect our sacred role in keeping Purgatory a neutral and fair space for souls.”
Mom scans the senate floor. All eyes are fixed on her.
“Next week, remember the human souls entering Purgatory every day, every moment. Vote in favor of the Myung-Lewis bill. Thank you.”
The chamber’s silent for a moment, then members of the Senate begin to clap. The applause quickly swells. I join in and cheer, every cell in my body bursting with pride. Go, Camilla!
Bowing slightly, Mom steps away from the podium. The room echoes with low chatter as everyone rises to their feet and moves on with their day. A small group of Senators encircle Mom, asking questions. Tim rushes through the back door of the room, his long robes fluttering with each step. He gently touches Mom’s upper arm.
“Senator Lewis, we must depart for the committee meeting.”
“Thank you, Tim.” She rests her hand on his shoulder. He shivers.
Together, they leave the chamber. Xavier watches them go, and then he follows a short distance behind. They step through a series of long marble passageways until reaching a small wooden door. Xavier hangs back in the busy hall.
I watch Xavier as he keeps a careful distance from my mother. His movements are protective, almost possessive, but not in a creepy-stalker way. Hmm. I might be starting to like this guy.
Tim holds the door open. “The committee will meet in here today, Senator Lewis.”
Mom steps inside. “Thank you.” She and Tim walk to a long wooden table surrounded by heavy leather chairs. As they take their seats, two new figures step into the room. One’s a familiar-looking ghoul in a long black robe. The other is Armageddon.
My body goes on full alert. Armageddon’s here? I want to break through the dreamscape, grab Mom’s hand, and run for it. Instead, I feel rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but brace myself against jolts of panic.