Scanning the grounds around me, I find the Arena floor has mostly cleared out, only a half-dozen quasis and demons still battle it out nearby. A handful of Walker’s Aquilinea brothers and sisters roam the grounds, opening portals for any angels that remain. Too many white-robed bodies lay lifeless on the stone seats. My throat tightens with grief.
I shift my gaze upwards. The skies are now clear; I can only hope Verus escaped while I was fighting the Crinis. I cross my fingers. Please, let her live.
Off in the stands, Armageddon sits still and tall in his dark throne. He licks his thin lips and catalogs the stadium. The seats are smashed, the archways shattered, and bodies of all kinds lay everywhere. His gaze lingers on the Tinea and he smiles. “Phase one is well in hand. Follow me.” He and his entourage scale out of the Arena.
The tension in my back loosens a bit. At least that’s one less thing to worry about.
Adair’s only a few yards away now, looking willowy and bored in her white robes as she stomps about the stadium floor. I raise my arm. “Hey! Adair!”
Her tiny eyes glare at me over a pug nose. “Who are you?”
I stop before her and peel off my mask. “I’m Myla Lewis.”
“Oh yeah, you’re the one who stripped at the ball.” She sneers. “Cunnus girl.”
Normally, I’d knock her block off at this point. Instead, I take a deep breath and ball my hands into fists. “Look, Adair. You’re in serious danger. There’s a demon after you.”
She giggles. “No, there’s not.” A Crini lurches past us on its way out of the stadium. “Watch this.” She taps a tentacle with her finger. “Hello!”
The Crini examines me and Adair, its red eyes flaring demon-bright. The monster creeps closer, its long tentacles raised high. I move into battle stance, my tail arching over my shoulder.
Across the stadium floor, the Tinea fights Lincoln, its diamond claws sparring with the Prince’s baculum sword. Angling its head-lump toward the Crini, the Tinea lets out a series of angry chirps. I don’t speak Tinea, but I’m guessing it’s something like ‘back off buddy, I got her.’ The Crini pauses, shivers, and slinks away.
Adair grins. “See, what I mean? They won’t touch the Scala Heir, although this thing–” she kicks the dead Manus demon “–almost crushed me when it fell over.”
“The other demons avoid you because Armageddon sent the Tinea.” I’m careful to whisper every word. “As long as you stand totally still and keep your voice down, the Tinea can’t track you. So stay quiet and don’t move, okay?”
“Sure, whatever.” Adair glances around the stadium floor, her body language screaming ‘she’s not with me.’
Rage coils inside my belly. I’m trying to save Adair’s life and, like her jackass of a father, she’s too stuck-up and stubborn to see it.
Adair speaks in a full voice. “Look, all I’m worried about is a ride home. I should never have agreed to stop by the Arena this morning, only the ghoul asked so nicely.”
Ride home? Is she serious? “Demons are attacking Purgatory, Adair.”
“So?”
I’m about to say ‘so your people probably evacuated,’ but she’s keeping her voice down (sort-of) and not moving. Why push it? “I’m sure someone will be here soon.”
Adair freezes. “Lincoln!” She jumps up and down. “My Prince is here to save me.”
Enough, already. My hands grip her upper arm. “What part of ‘stand still and shut up’ was unclear?”
“Lincoln! Oh, Lincoln!” She tugs us both toward the Prince and the Tinea.
I dig my heels into the Arena floor and hold her arm firm. “Adair, what did I say? Stay quiet and don’t move. Lincoln is fighting a demon right now.”
She squirms harder under my grasp. “Let me go!” She turns to me. “How dare you–” She freezes, her eyes carefully inspecting my face. “Hey, when did you get those blue irises?”
Unholy moley. I can see where this is going, and it’s not a happy place.
“I don’t have blue irises. You’re seeing things.” Not my best lie.
“Did you come here with Lincoln? You two disappeared at the party after your little Cunnus girl thing.” Her tiny eyes thin to slits. “I need to talk to the High Prince. Now.” She pokes my rib cage with her pointer finger. “I’ll have you know, he and I are basically almost-engaged.”
I take a deep breath. “Sure you are.” I want to kick her. So. Hard. “Focus, Adair. Remember the nasty worm demon?”
“Lincoln!” She yanks against me with all her strength.
I speak in the loudest whisper I can manage. “Adair, stay still.”
She drags us both a few feet across the stadium floor. “I know what you’re trying to do.” Panic flickers in her eyes. “You’re pretending to be the Scala Heir, aren’t you?” She shoots a desperate look at Lincoln. “Well, you’re not. I’m the Scala Heir. I’M THE SCALA HEEEEEEIR!”
Crap.
The Tinea stops. Angling its lumpy head, it sniffs through two jagged nose-holes. “Scala Heir.”
Oh no, it smells the scent of igni on me, just like Armageddon did.