The Oligarchy’s faces turn slack. “Even our people of the Dark Lands cannot portal to us now.” They look downright mopey. Good. They were only hanging around because it was a safe place to negotiate. Plus, Tim had conveniently organized all their bargaining chips here in the form of my mother and Adair. I’m sure they never expected they’d become prisoners too. Now we’re all in the same boat. Hope sparks in my chest. That can only help us work together.
Still facing Walker, I drum my fingers on the back of the chair, memories flashing through my mind. Images from the Arena iconigration flicker through my consciousness. What happened that day—it must have been a test. I snap my fingers, then point at Walker. “Do you remember the iconigration? The pig demon Clementine opened a briefcase for Armageddon.”
“I remember,” says Walker. “It stopped the Scala’s carriers from opening a portal. I’d never seen anything like it before.”
Then, I said ‘Armageddon was up to something’ and you told me not to worry, Mr Smarty Pants. Not that I’ll point that out right now. Although I’m really-really-really tempted to.
I tap my knee with my pointer finger. “That was Armageddon’s way of testing a system for blocking Group Think, I’m certain of it.”
Verus wags her head from side to side. “That makes sense. Armageddon would need a way to stop ghouls from portaling in armies for a counter-attack. He’d never start this war without having thought that through. I’m afraid we’re locked in for the duration.”
I turn to Lincoln. I know this is a total long shot, but I have to ask. “How about the thrax back in Purgatory?”
The Prince frowns. “I had some top warriors here, but everyone was returning to Antrum today with transport ready to go. Once the fighting started, protocol requires an immediate evacuation. They’re all long gone, I’m afraid.”
That news shouldn’t make me so sad—after all, I knew it was a long shot—but suddenly the all-aloneness of our situation seems all too clear. It’s just the people in this bunker against Armageddon and his army.
Damn, this Scala job sucks.
Verus sighs. “Without ghoul transport, armies must cross no-man’s land to reach the Gates of Purgatory. That takes months. At the rate the demon army’s moving, this war will be over in hours.” She rubs her forehead. “Which is as Armageddon planned.”
The Oligarchy rise to their feet, their long crimson robes swaying. “We have one option remaining. Send the Scala to Hell. Draw Armageddon from our lands.” Their bony hands all point in my direction.
Unholy Hell. I cannot freaking believe we are back to this stupid idea again. I’m about to lay into the Oligarchy with the mother of all ‘screw you’ speeches, when I hear it. Sweet music. A mix of tiny voices. The igni have returned.
Lincoln and Verus leap to their feet, yelling at the Oligarchy about their lame idea. The ghoul’s eyes all glow red as they scream their response, which basically amounts to ‘what else can we do?’ I close my eyes, feeling the Scala power within me shift and grow. The many igni voices align until they speak as one. Suddenly, it’s very clear what they want me to do. Although as options go, it sucks, big time.
I set my palms on my eyes, my internal debate raging with the igni. They keep pointing out a path to victory, I keep saying that this Scala job is the pits. I won’t do their crazy idea. No, no, no! But after a while, I finally cave. They’re right; this is the only choice we have left. Damn.
I rise to my feet. “I’ll go.”
Everyone falls silent.
Verus blinks her eyes in disbelief. “What did you say?”
Please don’t make me repeat this a million times. I hate this idea enough already. “I said, I’ll go outside and face Armageddon. Send him back to Hell with my Scala power.” And so help me, if I live through this, I am chucking these igni out of my head, STAT.
“You can’t.” Lincoln’s face twists with worry. “They’ll kill you, and that’s if you’re lucky.”
I let out a long breath. I tried this line of reasoning with the igni. It didn’t work. “If I go outside and hide so they can’t see me, I might have a chance.” Did I mention I hate this idea?
Lincoln steps in front of me, taking both my hands in his. “You think you can send all the demons to Hell?”
No, I think I have a legion of insane lightning bolts inside my head. But I’m not telling him that. This plan is risky enough as it is; the only shot we have is if we all believe it’s possible and work from there. I force myself to look stony and resolved, or something close to it. “Yes, Lincoln. That’s exactly what I can do.”
Lincoln nods. “Then you have my full support.” I have a sinking feeling that he’s lying through his teeth too, but I love that he has my back.
Walker turns to me, his face drawn with worry. “You saw the old Scala at the iconigration. He almost collapsed sending a few dozen icons to heaven. Even at his best, he could only move a few hundred at a time in one place. You’re talking about five thousand demons across all of Purgatory.”