Scala (2 page)

Before me, a pair of ghost fighters slam into the containment wall. The exterior of the whole Carrier shakes with the impact, sending shock waves through the rest of the clouds. If the ghosts break out here, it can cause a chain reaction across the whole Tower. At this point, my only consolation is that they're fighting with each other, and not trying to break out of the Carrier itself.

“What's the spirit density on this cloud, anyway?”

“Four hundred thousand souls.”

I let out a low whistle. “That'll do it.”

It's the same story everywhere, though. All the Carriers are packed-to-bursting, and the dead don't like being crowded any more than the living. It only takes one ghost to wake up, flip out, and start fighting. After that, the whole Carrier's at risk.

The battle inside the cloud gets vicious. Spectral bodies are hurled into the misty walls. The hazy barriers of the Carrier shake more violently.

Another body hits the containment wall. This time, a spider-web of white lines spread out from the impact point.

My breath catches. The walls are starting to break apart. It's never been this serious before. My mind races through ways to stop the damage. “Did you try lowering the charge on the containment field? The electricity might be zapping them awake.”

“We tried that. No effect.”

Another blow strikes the wall before me. The fracture lines spread. Some of the nearby Carriers start to vibrate as well. My pulse shoots through the roof.

“How about the concentration of mist?” That's what keeps the souls sedated and calm.

Celia taps on her tablet. “They look fine.”

“Have a testing rod?”

Celia pulls what looks like a long silver nail from inside her jacket. “Sure.”

I take the rod from her hands and gently move it into the cloud. Meanwhile, the ghosts inside get even more out of control. Bodies smash along the length of the Carrier wall. More fractures appear. Tension spreads up my neck and around my temples.

This could be it. The day we release millions of angry ghosts into Purgatory, where they'll do what all mobs do. Tear everyone and everything apart.

I pull out the testing rod and check the surface. One-third of it now glows. “The mist levels in this cloud are only at thirty percent.”

“That's impossible.” All the blood drains from Celia's face. “We cranked everything up to maximum.”

“The Towers were never designed to hold this many souls, Celia. I've seen it before. The systems get overloaded and downright glitchy.”

More ghosts pound into the wall. This time, they see the fractures, too. It gives them bad ideas, as in: ‘let's not fight each other, let's break out of here'. Long cracks form in the containment wall closest to us. Thin lines of mist leak out into the Ghost Tower.

Celia hugs her elbows. “What do we do?”

“Go to the Control Room. Have them call the Minister of Infrastructure. If anyone knows how to override whatever's holding back the mist, he will.” The Minister's my old friend Walker. A super-talented engineer, Walker can always get the Ghost Towers working.

“Yes, Great Scala.”

Celia races off to the Control Room. Meanwhile, I pace back and forth before the containment wall, thinking through my options. They aren't good. More cracks appear, deeper and longer this time. If the ghosts escape, the protocol's to flood the Tower with mist. Which probably won't be possible, considering that we can't fill the Carriers with enough mist. And if the ghosts get out, that's a worst-case scenario for yours truly. I'll be forced to move the escapees to Hell.

Come ooooooon, Walker.

Seconds drag by. The ghosts are hysterical now, clawing at the walls and crawling on top of each other. I start screaming at them, not that they can hear me.

“Calm down! Trust me, this isn't what you want!”

The fight inside the Carrier takes on a new edge. Weapons are added into the mix. Someone's broken off branches from the nearby trees, and the walls suffer a new level of pounding. One of the cracks opens wider. A misty hand pokes through and into the Tower beyond. A sense of heavy dread settles into my bones.

That's it. I've run out of time.

In my mind, I summon igni. Instantly, little lightning bolts of power swirl and dive around my palms like tiny silver fish. I can feel their excitement. This is what they're meant to do. Move souls. They form a whirlpool on the floor, the first step in creating a Soul Column that will send these spirits to their afterlife. Unfortunately, that afterlife will be in Hell.

My heart sinks. I've failed them.

Suddenly, the Cloud Carrier fills with mist, a thicker haze than I've ever seen before. The combatants drop their weapons, close their eyes, and slump over into a deep sleep. Exhaling a relieved breath, I command my igni to disappear.

At last. The mist levels are fixed. The souls are safe.

Wherever you are, Walker, I owe you one.

As Minister of Infrastructure, Walker does more than save my butt every time the Ghost Towers break down. He's also searching for Lucifer's Orb, and is pretty close to finding it, too. Once the Orb's out of Purgatory, I'll be free to move souls again. Whew.

Celia rushes back. “It worked.” She pauses before me, her mouth thinning to a fierce line. “Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but we should follow the ghoul-rules here, and the ghouls wanted to send these souls to Hell. Who cares about a bunch of dead people when live quasis are at risk? If these ghosts escape, they'll tear Purgatory apart.”

My eyebrows rise with surprise. My, my, myyyyyyy. What's with the sassy mouth? Say what you want about ghoul brainwashing, it usually makes my people cower versus confront. Fighting with a newly-feisty Celia is the last thing I need.

I lower my voice an octave, just to show I mean business. “No good souls go to Hell on my watch. Not unless we've no other choice.”

Celia's entire body quivers as she speaks. “Our choice was already made for us. By the ghouls. All we have to do is act on it.”

I watch Celia tremble; all the irritation drains right out of me. The ghouls spent twenty years brainwashing her. Her so-called Masters left only two months ago. I can't expect to erase years of conditioning in a matter of weeks. “When was the last time you slept, Celia?”

“Two days ago, Great Scala.”

I rest my hand gently on her upper arm. “Go home. Take the day off. We'll talk about this later.”

After a fast nod, Celia slowly walks away.

Suddenly, the power generators stop. Green lights flicker along the top of the Tower, showing that we're now running on back-up energy from Upper Purgatory. Everything turns eerily quiet.

My body goes on alert. Shutdowns like this only happen if the containment walls crash or if there's some serious diplomatic gunk going on. Maybe we're about to get an emergency visit from my mother, who's now Purgatory's President.

I cross my fingers, hoping it's Mom.

From across the concrete floor, my best friend Cissy appears in the doorway. She's our new Senator for Diplomacy, so that puts things solidly into the ‘diplomatic gunk category' of shutdown. I exhale a shaky breath. I don't need any more adrenaline rushes today.

My best friend runs at me at full speed, her golden retriever tail wagging busily behind her. Cissy is tall and willowy with tawny brown eyes and blonde hair that falls in neat ringlets. Today, she wears purple Senatorial robes and a worried look on her face. She stops to a skid at my side.

“You're in your Scala robes, good.”

Huh. Cissy wants me to look all official. Must be an ultra-important diplomatic thingy going on.

“What's up, Cis? Is Mom coming over?” I wouldn't be surprised if she's been monitoring this whole scene from her office via the Control Room.

“No. Do you want the bad news, or the really-bad news?”

“Let's start with the bad.”

“Adair's coming over with all the other inter-realm Diplomats.”

I let out a long groan.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

That's Adair as in Lady Adair, the nutjob who wants to marry my very-much-in-love-with-me boyfriend Lincoln, the High Prince of the demon-fighting thrax. A few months ago, Adair became Thrax Diplomat to Purgatory. Since then, she hasn't done dick as diplomat. Her sole purpose seems to be following me around, trying to cause trouble. Last week alone, she started three petitions about my supposed incompetence as a leader. No one signed them, but still. Sheesh.

“What's my personal stalker up to this time?”

“Adair's performing an official emergency inspection of this Ghost Tower, followed by some kind of formal announcement.”

“Ugh. That could be a problem.”
Especially since one of my Cloud Carriers looks like Swiss cheese.
Not exactly inspection-friendly.

Cissy shakes her head sadly. “I'm so sorry, Myla. I've been trying to run interference for you.”

“Hey, just because you're the Senator for Diplomacy doesn't mean you have to be Adair's babysitter. It's bad enough that she took over your day with her
emergency
.” I make little quotation marks with my fingertips when I say that last word.

“Goes with the job,” retorts Cissy with a shrug. “Diplomats can't go around inspecting Purgatory's buildings without having our Senator for Diplomacy along.”

“Still, you've better stuff to do.” I give the floor a frustrated kick with my sandal. “When will she be here, anyway?”

“In a few minutes,” says Cissy. “I just found out about this myself. You know how Adair's been grilling me about the Ghost Towers. I told her it's classified, but she interviewed some Wardens in this tower and heard all about our problems.”

“Man, I hope it wasn't Celia.”

“Who's Celia?”

“My Lead Warden. She's been a little twitchy lately.”

“Well, whoever it was, Adair's now in a big huff.”

Unfortunately, as Thrax Diplomat, Adair has every right to huff. If the ghosts break free, her people will be called into Purgatory to clean up the mess. And if Adair uses her Diplomatic role to make noise about our Tower problems, there'll be a ton more pressure on me to move souls to Hell. My people tolerate my changing the ghoul-rules—they're even excited to get rid of the Orb—but that's only because they don't know they have Ghost-Tower-pressure-cookers in their back yards.

“Can you stall her for a bit? I need to fix up this Carrier.” The ghosts are already sleepwalking around, finding comfy spots to snooze, but the containment walls look B-A-D.

Cissy stares at the spider web of fractures along the Carrier wall, noticing them for the first time. “Myla, this thing almost broke wide open. I've seen smashed windshields that look better.”

“I know. That's why I need some time. Can you get me an hour? We'll do a quick patch job.”

“Sure, girlfriend. I'll run some fresh interference for you, too. Try to neutralize Adair.”

“Thanks, but I still say you should be doing your day job. Or, better yet, hanging with Zeke.” Since Cissy became Senator, she hasn't seen too much of her boyfriend, Zeke.

“First of all, you are my day job. Second, I spent years chasing after Zeke from afar. It won't hurt him to be in the background for a little while. And third, neutralizing Adair is fun.”

“You're the best, Cis.”

“Stay safe.” She gives me a big hug and then walks away at double-speed.

For a time, I watch the Cloud Carriers drift lazily about the Tower.

“You guys stay safe, too.”

Over the next hour, we do the sketchiest patch job on a Cloud Carrier, ever. It won't be a solid fix until Walker comes by, but it should be enough for Adair's inspection. In fact, my repair team has just left the Tower when Adair appears in the doorway.

“Greetings, Great Scala.”

She's a pale girl with pinched features, long blonde hair and the mismatched eyes that mark every thrax. She wears a butter-yellow gown, which is the color of her House, Acca. Behind her steps the Ghoul Delegate, a seven-foot tall man in a flowing black robe. He has a colorless, scarred face and pronounced limp. The Angelic Delegate is with them, too. She's an elderly grandma-type with ebony skin and a shock of white hair. We aren't on diplomatic terms with Hell anymore, so there's no demon representative.

Adair marches across the floor, her mismatched eyes glaring red-hot death in my direction. Meh. She can kiss my ass.

The group stops before me. Cissy steps forward, looking very official in her Senatorial robes. There's a glimmer in her eye that I like very much, indeed. I've known Cissy since we were kids, and that look means one thing: whatever interference she ran for me with Adair, it's goooooooooood.

“Greetings, Great Scala,” says Cissy smoothly. “As the Thrax Senator for Diplomacy, I'm here to witness the inspection of this Ghost Tower followed by an official announcement from the Thrax Dele—” Cissy pauses dramatically, tapping her chin. “Ah, how silly of me to forget. Before we begin, I've had a rush communiqué from Antrum. A special message for the Great Scala.” She reaches into her robes and pulls out a small silver envelope. Lincoln's seal is mighty visible. Nice.

Cissy is a genius. Now, Adair will spend her time obsessing over that message and—with any luck—not inspect anything during her inspection of the Cloud Carriers. I could kiss Cissy right now.

“Here's the message.” My best friend offers me the envelope with a flourish. “There's been a demon sighting in Purgatory. The High Prince will be taking care of this personally. He requests that you join him for the battle.” She looks meaningfully to Adair. “Details are in this letter.”

I take the envelope and smile, smile, smile. “Thank you, Senator.” I could do my happy dance, I'm so pumped. Cissy must've pulled some strings to find a
demon to kill and get a rush courier over to Antrum, all in an hour. What a girl. And demon fighting with Lincoln? Today is definitely on the upswing.