All That Lives Must Die

He was in way over his head.

And what was he going to tell Audrey? Hi, Mom. Guess what happened while we ditched school? I joined your enemies, the fallen angels.

And there he sat, looking as smug as if he’d just won seven rounds of vocabulary insult. His hair, uncut all year, was all curls and cowlicks, but he was finally able to pull back. Despite the astonishing and astronomical odds against it, Eliot almost looked cool.

Crazy. This entire situation.

Maybe Uncle Henry could help her slip Eliot some quick electroshock therapy to bring him back to his senses.

But really, what did it mean to own land in Hell and be called an Infernal Lord? It was just a title, right? He couldn’t really be one of them.

The door to Miss Westin’s office opened and the pale boy who had ushered them before emerged. He bowed. “Good Lady and Master,” he said. “Please, the Headmistress will see you now.”

Fiona’s heart pounded in her throat. She was like a little kid again about to be punished for leaving her clothes on the floor. How did the adults in her life always do that to her?

Eliot got to his feet.

There was no way she was going to let him be the brave one, so she stood, got ahead of him, and led the way.

Fiona remembered Miss Westin’s office as being long-but today it seemed like it had stretched to the length of a football field as they walked past dozens of Tiffany lamps, acres of walnut paneling, a hundred different doors (which Fiona was sorely tempted to bolt through). There were all those oil painting and class photographs, too.

She spotted one picture that made her stop in her tracks. Eliot did the same, and they stared at a group of freshmen.

Among the hundred or so students were Tamara Pritchard, David Kaleb, and even, much to Fiona’s chagrin, Jeremy and Sarah Covington.

It was their freshman class portrait. . one they weren’t in because they’d obviously missed picture day at school.

Her hands twisted together, and for a moment she wanted to cut that thing in half-right through Jeremy Covington’s face.

“Nice,” she muttered, and kept walking.

Miss Westin’s desk was a few paces ahead. Last time there had been no place to sit. Today, four high-backed chairs sat opposite the Headmistress. Not a good sign. Miss Westin obviously wanted them off their feet when she delivered the bad news.

Miss Westin sat there, nodded, and murmured something, but didn’t spare either of them a glance. Her attention was focused solely on those chairs.

There was another person. A pair of skinny legs and the edge of a skirt dangled over the seat, but the chair’s high back obscured the rest.

Miss Westin finally finished and then gestured for that person to leave. Only then did the Headmistress glance at Fiona and Eliot, and all traces of civility left her face.

The other person got out of their chair.

Fiona stared, not believing what she saw.

“You’re. . dead,” Eliot whispered.

Amanda Lane looked them over. Her lips pressed into a frown, and her gaze narrowed.

For someone whom Fiona had seen blown to smithereens, Amanda looked great. Her school uniform was neatly pressed. A tiny daisy was pinned to her lapel. Her hair had been cut and feathered back from her face-hair that now had a lot more auburn in it that Fiona recalled.

She wanted to run over and give her a hug, but Fiona still couldn’t believe she was real.

Amanda stood tall and proud, though. Her skin flushed and Fiona felt the unnatural heat from where she stood.

“I’m not dead,” she told them. “Obviously. But no thanks to either of you.”

“The bridge. .,” Eliot started.

“And that volcano. .,” Fiona added.

“I did those things,” Amanda said, her voice rising. “And what’d I get for my trouble? For risking my life? No one came back to even look for me. Do you know how hard it is to climb out of a river of lava? While it’s solidifying?”

Fiona blinked and tried to process this. Shy, helpless Amanda was telling them she had caused all that massive geological-scale upheaval-and then had survived it, apparently immune to the tremendous heat.

“Do you know how long I had to look until I found those stupid train tracks?” Amanda set her hands on her hips. “And how long I walked until I found the tunnel back to the Market Street station?”

“I’m so sorry,” Fiona said. “We just assumed. .”

“I was ready to die for you guys,” Amanda told her. Despite the heat coming from her, her voice was icy. “And you just marched off looking for Jezebel. What kind of friends are you?”

Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to tell her they got a little occupied trying to outrun a tidal wave of magma-worried about the millions of damned souls that might’ve chased after them-oh, and not to mention their complete astonishment at seeing her turn into a miniature sun and then going supernova on them.

Eliot, however, spoke first. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “We shouldn’t have left you there. No matter what. I’m sorry.”

Amanda’s lip trembled, and Fiona thought she might cry.

She stuck out her chin, though, and recovered. “At least I know where I stand with my so-called friends now.” She moved past them, adding in a whisper, “At least the people I thought were my friends.”

Amanda crossed Miss Westin’s office and slammed the door shut.

Fiona was thrilled to see her alive, but she wasn’t sure what was more shocking: seeing her alive, or seeing her so strong. . and so angry. Fiona felt like Amanda had just kicked her in the stomach.

Miss Westin tapped a pen on her desk to get their attention.

Fiona and Eliot hurriedly took their seats.

The high-backed chair was hard, squeaky, and uncomfortable. Eliot sat two spots away from her.

Miss Westin examined them and steepled her hands on her desk. “Miss Lane has embraced the Fire of Humanity. It is a great responsibility. A great burden as well. She needs good friends at a time like this.”

That’s all Fiona needed was another “friend” who hated her (although that wasn’t completely accurate, because right now, she didn’t have any friends).

“And where is Mr. Farmington?” the Headmistress inquired.

Eliot and Fiona looked at each other.

“Was he supposed to be with us?” Fiona asked.

Miss Westin made a note in her little black book and didn’t answer.

Funny how she asked after Robert, but not Mitch. How much did she know?

“Down to business, then,” Miss Westin said. She tapped the large computer touch screen that doubled as the surface of her desk, and their official Paxington school records popped open. “I have here a list of regulations you have broken, and a few new rules that have been created to cover your uniquely reckless behavior.”

With her long bony index finger, she traced down this list. “Unauthorized departure from campus during school hours. . missing weeks of class and gym practice without prior written approval. . destruction of school property-”

“We didn’t break anything,” Eliot said, annoyed.

“Your uniforms,” Miss Westin told him. “You have paid for them, but technically that is only a lease. All things bearing the Paxington insignia are school property in perpetuity.”

She glared at him. Eliot met her eyes without flinching.

“And,” she continued, “there is still a matter of you missing your final exams in Mythology 101, Force of