Chapter 27
CHAPTER27
“Are you sure about this?” Ashen asks as we descend a steep staircase carved from black stone. Humidity rises with every step we take into the subterranean cavern. I keep hold of Ashen’s arm and we progress further into the darkness, our way lit by dim lanterns of smoky grey glass.
“For the hundredth time, yes.”
“I’m not fond of the idea.”
“I’m acutely aware.”
“I suppose it at least confirms you are indeed still trying to kill me. This time by heart attack.”
“I already said that killing you would never get old.”
Ashen’s only reply is a low growl of irritation.
“I need to get out more,” I say with a shrug, patting his arm. “I can’t just stay inside and fuck my problems away.”
Ashen scoffs. “We can try.”
“We did try.”
“We can try harder.”
“You’ve tried hard enough. We heard you from the next suite over,” Ediye says behind us, her eyes shining with mischief when I shoot her a conspiratorial grin.
“You are one to talk, witch,” Ashen says with a sharp glance over his shoulder. Ediye’s eyes shimmer brighter in reply, stars glowing and fading with her amusement.
Ashen slips into scowling, brooding, demon-worthy silence. His simmering anxiety bleeds through the mark over my heart. No matter what reassurance I try to give him, whether it’s a squeeze on his arm or a joke or a smile, nothing seems to quell the fear that vibrates through my flesh like the tickle of butterfly wings beneath my skin.
When we land on the final step and drums pound an echoing beat to herald our arrival, those wings become tiny hammers pounding at my sternum.
The cavern ahead is a massive chamber, the jagged roof of stalactite crystals shimmering several stories above us as they reflect the light of the torches lining the cave. The length of the cavern is double its width, with bleachers extending down both ends, hewn from the rock and separated by a smooth, flat floor. At the far end is a sculpture carved into the black stone. The scene of gratuitous impaling reminds me a little of the tapestries in the Throne Room, the ones I really did end up burning a few nights ago when Cole wanted to make salted caramel s’more towers. It seemed to cheer him up a bit, so it was worth the effort of dragging the heavy fabric into a makeshift fire pit behind Eshkar’s former residence, even if I did eat enough marshmallows to make myself sick.
“The sculpture is making me hungry. You know what would make this whole thing better? Churros,” I say as Ashen unwinds his arm from mine to place his hand on the exposed skin of my lower back as we ascend the steps of a dais. I’ve chosen a black option for this evening, a little more in keeping with the Reaper aesthetic. It’s a short playsuit with a low-cut back, the military boots I’m wearing giving it a bit of an edge along with the kaiken strapped to my thigh. I can’t say it’s queenly, but it’s practical and comfortable in this humid cave warmed by torches and the bodies of demons who stand at attention among the staggered seats.
Ashen’s only response to my attempted joke is a grim little growl. He sends a withering glare across the audience as we take our places to stand in front of our seats on the stage, Ashen to my right with Cyrus and Roman, Ediye to my left along with Imani, Hotaru, and Maru from my new Council. A contingent of Shub Lugal soldiers fan out around us, lining the edges of the stage and the level below us as though daring anyone to even look our way too long. Zida enters last, coiling behind my carved mahogany chair with an agitated hiss.
The drums come to an abrupt halt.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” Ashen booms to the audience.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” they respond.
Everyone on the dais aside from the guards and Ashen sits. As soon as we’re settled, the demons of the audience do the same.
A tense silence descends on the cavern affectionately known as The Gauntlet.
“Tonight is a unique event,” Ashen says as he slowly stalks toward the front of the dais. His fist grips the hilt of his sheathed sword with bleached knuckles. “There will be no resurrected souls for your ravening entertainment. No revived immortals, breathed to life to be torn apart before your eyes. Tonight, your Queen gives you better sport. Deserving prey. The traitors of the Shadow Realm.”
The floor between the two sides of the cavern comes to life with sound. Sections of the stone separate from one another on hidden gears and tracks in kaleidoscopic shapes. They whirr and tick and fold to reveal the brutality hidden one the level below.
It’s a maze of alleyways and high stone walls. Some pathways come to a dead end, others have long stretches of straight passages that seem to emanate the very essence of deceit, their traps so well hidden that not a hint of danger is visible, even to my preternatural vampire sight. A section near the center is a wide courtyard where a few weapons lay the floor for the taking. In several places there are obstacles, like giant axes that swing like pendulums, or an unstable bridge over a steaming pool of acid, the only path toward the exit of the maze. The final goal is a small, round podium beneath the carved wall at the far end of the cavern.
Ashen says nothing further to the rows of demons who speak in hushed tones as the final sections of the floor slide into place beneath them. Some lean forward in their seats, shifting to get a better view of the playing field. Ashen strides back toward our line of chairs, his gaze a heavy presence on my skin.
“This is reminiscent of some fun times in Rome a couple millennia ago, don’t you think, Reaper?” I say as Ashen takes his seat and folds his hand around mine.
“I’m still not sure about your idea of fun.”
“Come on now, it’s going to be a great show. They’ll be talking about it for years.”
Ashen’s slides a flat glare in my direction but doesn’t argue. His hand heats around mine.
Two doors slide open at our end of the arena and eight unarmed demons enter the playing field. They’re divided into two groups, and they can’t see one another from their starting points on the maze. I spot a few familiar faces. Joash is there with his amputated arm, the wound already healed. There’s a woman I recognize from the battlefield in Romania, but I don’t know her name. The soldier who practiced his archery skills with my head is in Joash’s group, so I guess that means Zida never got to eat him and he resurrected. She hisses behind me as though reading my thoughts. I spot Pyrrhus as well, who crouches a little, taking stock of his surroundings.
The drums crash around us. Ashen leans forward in his chair. I cut a glance at Ediye and her worried expression is lightened with a flash of a devious smile.
When the drums stop, the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts. Some people call out instructions, taunting the participants to take one turn or another. There’s no way the traitors can know if what they hear is helpful or harmful, so they seem to ignore the shouts raining down from above like poisoned arrows.
Both groups stalk forward with cautious steps. Joash’s is the first to run into trouble.
As the group turns down a corridor, someone steps on a hidden panel in the floor. A screen drops from the wall at the far end of the hall to reveal a line of crossbows. A slew of bolts releases with a mechanical shing.
Several of the demons drop to the floor quickly enough to avoid being hit, but one is not so lucky and howls with fury and pain as he looks down at the arrow lodged in his stomach. The second group of demons startles as they hear his scream from a few corridors over. Cheers and shouts and the sound of stomping boots fill the cavern.
“That’s Duman,” Ashen says as he leans in close and nods toward the injured demon. We watch as Duman slides the bolt from his guts with a gritty groan. When it’s free, he keeps hold of it for a weapon.
“I like the psychological warfare aspect,” I reply, gesturing to the other group of demons as they continue their procession through the corridor with heightened caution. Ashen hums in agreement, and I can’t tell if he picked up the edge of sarcasm in my voice.
Truthfully, I don’t totally love my idea to put on a show. The Council was excited by the prospect when I proposed my vision and took only two days to update the playing field from whatever their last event had been, complete with a few specific requests from me. I’d rather leave such games to history, but I’m not ruling humans or the beings of the Living Realm. I’m ruling demons. If I want to change the conversation about how this realm will be run so that I can start healing this place, I have to first communicate in their language. And I intend to make a point they will not soon forget.
“Maybe it’s time to speed things along in Pyrrhus’s group,” I say as I meet Ashen’s eyes. He gives a hint of a grim smile and turns away to nod at a soldier who stands at a podium, the alcove of which is lined with buttons and switches. She flips the first one and I hear the gears whirl to life for a door in the pit below.
Urtur stalks from the shadows beneath us. The crowd erupts with excitement. Pyrrhus’s group can’t see him yet from where they stand back-to-back around a corner, their legs bent, bodies tensed for a fight. But they know something is coming as they crowd chants, stomping their feet in rhythm with their single, repeating word.
Beast.
Urtur stalks forward, his head low. He takes his time to drift down the corridor. A salvo of shouts and cheers bounce off the cavern walls. Some demons in the stands rise to their feet, leaning forward as they strain to get a better view of the giant black jackal as he approaches the corner. He stops just before the turn.
The jackal growls.
Pyrrhus’s group takes off at a run. Their progress is erratic with their wariness of the unseen traps in the maze. They keep glancing back toward the demon jackal as he rounds the corner. Urtur bares his teeth.
The audience’s attention is trapped between the beast and his prey. But not the guard who controls the game board.
I give her a nod. She gives me one back. The group of demons reaches the end of the corridor just as slits open along both sides of the hall around the corner the height of both walls.
The first demon reaches the turn, his attention still snagged on the jackal as Urtur stalks forward. He doesn’t see the danger slipping from the shadows in the wall.
He rounds the turn and impales himself on Valentina’s blade.
A collective gasp climbs into the stalactites. Those on stage from the Council are just as shocked as the rest of the demons. The only people I told of this plan were Ashen and Ediye. I’m most pleased with Imani’s reaction as she lets out a delighted laugh.
“Congratulations, Queen Leucosia,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “You have succeeded in surprising those who thought they had seen it all in the Gauntlet. Even me.”
“And the surprises have only just begun,” I reply with a sly smile.
The shock in the audience gives way to entertainment. The crowd is thunderous. Valentina cackles a wicked, triumphant laugh as she whips her sword free of the demon’s abdomen and the crowd cheers. He falls to his knees in a pool of blood, the vampire slipping away between the slits in the wall before he even hits the ground. The other unarmed demons stall at the corner, caught between the hidden danger and the one creeping toward them. They decide to take their chances with the opponent they can’t see.
“I think I would have preferred facing down the dog,” Ashen says.
I smile, not taking my eyes from the scene as the bloodied demon struggles to his feet and staggers after the others as they pass. “You flatter my kind.”
“You’ve killed me too many times for me to not learn my lesson.”
My smile grows brighter. Valentina darts out from another slit in the wall and drags the toe of her blade up the back of a demon in a long slash. Another tries to grab the sword as Valentina swings it over her shoulder to deliver another blow. She wrenches the sharpened steel from his strong grasp, slicing his palms with two deep cuts. He bellows in pain. Valentina turns on him with a savage hiss before she kicks him in the chest, sending him backward into the demon with the abdominal wound. She slips away into another slit in the wall.
The crowd cheers as Valentina continues to dart between the walls, hindering the progress of the group down the corridor, slashing non-lethal cuts as she laughs like a horror villain. While the audience remains focused on her bloody dance, I look to the other group progressing deeper into the maze.
“Zida,” I call over my shoulder. Her attentive, quiet hiss flows toward me. “Have fun. No eating.”
Zida slithers by, possibly annoyed by my request to not eat the players, though truthfully, it’s a little hard to interpret snake facial expressions. She keeps her eye on me as she passes and then she flows down the stairs, drifting through the guards who stand aside as she serpentines to the edge and slides into the pit. The chants begin again when the audience spots her heading for Joash’s group.
Beast. Beast. Beast.
We watch as both groups struggle past obstacles and booby traps, Urtur and Zida always on their heels, pushing them further into the maze. The players leave bloody trails behind them. Sometimes I catch the scent. Sometimes I think I can hear the alarm in their pounding hearts, but it’s the sound of the crowd, their chants and stomps like a pulse in the cavern. As both groups come closer to converging in the heart of the maze where the weapons wait, I turn to Ashen.
“I’d better get going,” I say, trying to impart a comforting smile to alleviate the fear in his eyes. His emotions fill my mated mark with heat, as though the invisible tether between us is made of frayed wires, their ends burning beneath my skin.
“You don’t have to do this, vampire. The Shadow Realm is already more than entertained.”
“I’m not just trying to entertain. You know this. I need to give them a reason to think differently of me. They need to remember why I stood up on that dais and gave them mercy.” I squeeze Ashen’s hand as his gaze drops from mine, his brow furrowed as he looks at our laced fingers. I nudge his arm with mine, drawing his attention back up to my waiting smile. “You didn’t worry this much in House Urbigu when we fought the hyenas. You told me to have fun and not hiss too loud.”
“That was before I lost you.” Ashen’s free hand folds across my jaw and the rest of the world falls away. He leans closer. His pounding pulse drums in his veins. Fear marks Ashen’s scent with notes of sulfur and salt as his breath whispers across my lips. “Twice you were wrenched away from me. Stolen.” A feathery tremor ghosts through Ashen’s lips as he presses them to mine in a gentle kiss. He pulls away to stare into my eyes so deeply that I feel his presence in every hidden corner of my soul. “You are not just my most precious star. You are every constellation that lights up the night, and I cannot bear the darkness without you.”
I place my hand on Ashen’s. When I lean into his touch, the aching worry I feel in my mark becomes tendrils of pressure in my chest. “You need to trust me, Ashen. If you can’t,” I say, gesturing toward the audience, “they never will.” I take Ashen’s hand and gently lower it from my face, bringing his knuckles to my lips to place a kiss to his glowing tattoos. When I release my grip on his hand, he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little shake of his head, the thinnest sheen of glassiness in his eyes. “It’s okay. Have faith in me. Just let go, my love.”
My words seem to break something in him, but whatever part of Ashen fractures, it splits wide enough that he lets my hand slip away. His expression is tortured despite my reassuring smile. Even when I turn to Ediye for my katana, I still feel the presence of his gaze like gauze on my skin.
If this really is my destiny, it’s about time I seize it. And I’ll do it like any ancient vampire would.
I will mold myself to be what they need in this moment, so that I can get exactly what I need from the Shadow Realm.
I need their allegiance.
So I will become their wicked queen.
I walk to the front of the dais. The guards part as I descend to their lower platform. I stride to the ledge of the playing field.
And then I leap into the depths of the Gauntlet.