The Oligarchy let out a low hiss, then speak in unison. “The King of Hell arrives any moment.” Their heads turn in a single motion, scanning the room. “Let us hope that handing over the Senator is enough to appease him.”
My jaw drops. Armageddon invades Purgatory and this is the master plan to drive him out: hand over my mother? Talk about living in a dream world. My insides twist with worry at the thought of Mom in the hands of that fiend. Who am I kidding? Any of us could be handed over to the King of Hell. It’s across-the-boards terrifying.
“You told Armageddon where we’re all hiding?” Mom rolls her eyes. “He’ll come here all right, but not just for us.”
The Oligarchy look around the room, their gaze pausing on the Scala and then Adair. “We see the Scala Heir is here as well.”
Tim rushes to Adair’s side, pulling her up from the floor. “Yes, mighty Oligarchy. She’ll be useful to you. If the Senator isn’t enough, you can negotiate with her as well.”
The Oligarchy’s eyes flare bright. “Yes, most suitable.”
Adair struggles under Tim’s grip. “I’m not the Scala Heir. It was all a fake.” She points directly at me. “She’s the one. She’s the Heir.”
My back teeth lock. Now she decides I’m the Scala Heir.
The Oligarchy let out a gurgle that I’m guessing is their laugh. “You’re whatever Armageddon believes you to be, little girl.”
Adair staggers backwards until her back hits the concrete wall. “But I’m not the Heir, really.” All the color drains from her face.
“It won’t come to that.” The Oligarchy hiss in what I’m guessing is meant to be a comforting tone. “Armageddon will take the Senator and leave.”
My stomach churns with an unpleasant realization. The Oligarchy may be grasping at straws in offering Mom to Armageddon, but they aren’t all that stupid. They brought the Scala in here and are acting nicey-nice with Adair for one reason: they’ll give Armageddon anything he wants in order to save themselves. And the King of Hell wants his son back. No doubt, he wants whoever succeeds the Scala too.
“Don’t worry, Great Scala Heir.” The Oligarchy bow slightly to Adair. “The plan is perfect. Handing over the Senator will work.”
Walker’s eyes blaze red. “Time to change the plan.” He lowers his head and a portal starts to take shape by the far wall.
The Oligarchy’s gaze snaps in Walker’s direction. “Don’t try to circumvent us, traitor.” The portal vanishes.
Crud. The Oligarchy shut Walker down. We’re running out of options.
An idea appears in my mind. Maybe I can distract the Oligarchy with an igni display. I don’t need much time, just long enough for Walker to open a portal. I nod to myself; that’s an awesome scheme. Raising my hand to shoulder-height, I close my eyes. Lincoln instantly grabs my wrist, pulling it down.
“Myla, please.” His mouth barely moves as he whispers to me. “He’ll know.”
No question which ‘him’ Lincoln’s talking about: Armageddon.
I catch the Prince’s gaze, see the spark of desperation and fear in his eyes. “Hiding you, it’s the reason we’re all here.”
My gaze shifts to Adair, who still huddles against the wall, pale and shivering. “What about Adair?”
A muscle twitches along Lincoln’s jawline. “What about Armageddon getting both the Scala and the Scala Heir? With that kind of power, he could control all the five realms. This is bigger than any of us, Myla.”
I nod, gripping my hands behind my back. I feel the weight of being the Scala Heir seep into my bones. This is the pits. Why didn’t I back down when Mom said I shouldn’t ask questions about my father?
Across the room, the Oligarchy gesture to the Scala. “Maxon.” The old man half-opens his eyes. In Latin, the Oligarchy whisper the words for “Imprison them.” The Scala raises his withered hand, a flurry of igni dance around his fingertips. He repeats the words of the Oligarchy, “Imprison them,” and closes his eyes once more.
The igni break free from his hand and fly about the room, encircling everyone except the Oligarchy and Tim. The bolts quickly turn into electric cords that bind our hands and feet. Tim lowers his spear from Cissy’s back; he no longer needs it.
I stare at the igni wrapped about my wrists, feeling their calming effect on my soul. Sensing my power, they reach out to me, little tendrils of thought that seep in through my skin. I want to set them free so badly, it’s like a pain in my chest. Their music and laughter gently echo inside my head, dozens of spirit-children calling me to come out and play. I can’t, little ones. I have to hide.
The Oligarchy’s eyes blaze bright red. “Every Scala develops a special skill with igni beyond the soul column. Our Maxon creates ropes and cages.” Their four mouths coil into satisfied grins. “Don’t bother trying to escape. Nothing can break your bonds.” They turn to Tim. “Go outside to Armageddon. Tell him we await his orders.”