Demon Games [4] (28 page)

‘I didn’t come about that,’ the demon said, shaking his head. ‘The last quarter-final has just finished. The Shadow Demon Fenktsk killed his Ifrit opponent, but is too wounded to fight again. They have just put him out of his misery.’

Shentob jumped down off the bench and brought his hands together in one loud clap.

‘What does that mean?’ Trey asked.

Shentob turned and grinned at the teenager. ‘It means you get another bye. The winner of that fight was to be your opponent in the semis. Now you won’t fight again until the final.’

Philippa walked out of the Fae gate and into the courtyard. The Netherworld air was as rank as ever, but it smelled fresh and sweet to the girl and she filled her lungs. She looked about her and stiffened as a figure emerged from the shadows to her right.

‘You must be Philippa,’ a woman’s voice said.

The girl paused, looking at the hooded figure.

‘It’s OK, child. I have been sent to meet you and escort you safely back to the Ashnon enclave. We are arranging for a portal to be opened – a portal to take you back to the human realm.’

‘How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this is not just another trick?’

The Ashnon pulled back the cloak of its hood and smiled at the girl. The creature was in the form of an old woman, an old woman with a kind and loving face. A kind and loving face with metallic green eyes.

‘You have been through so much already that I doubt you will find it easy to trust anyone for some time to come. But we must get you away from this place. If we do not go now, all our sacrifices to free you will have been in vain.’

There was something about the way it said this that made Philippa stop.

‘The Ashnon,’ she said. ‘The one that came back for me. Will it be OK?’

‘The demon has fulfilled the pact that the two of you had together.’ The creature held out a cloak for Philippa to put on. ‘Come, we must go.’

Philippa hesitated for a moment before allowing herself to be draped in the robe, the hood of which was pulled up over her head.

‘Come,’ the Ashnon said again.

The two of them left Molok’s stronghold.

Philippa’s journey back to the Ashnon enclave was uneventful. Once outside the citadel walls, they travelled in silence in the back of a covered carriage drawn by small, but remarkably strong and quick dog-like creatures which produced a soft, deep gargling sound in the back of their throats as they pulled the vehicle along. The sound was eerie at first, but soon the monotonous noise had the effect of relaxing the human girl, and she must have drifted off, to be awakened by her rescuer only when they reached their destination.

Philippa climbed out of the carriage and looked up at the huge edifice in front of her. She recognized it as the place that the Ashnon had put her in when she’d first come – not the magical facade of the Waldorf Astoria, but the real building that existed beneath that mantle of deception. She had looked back at this place when she’d fled its protective custody, thinking she was running to the aid of her dead father. She had been safe here, as safe as any human could be in the Netherworld, but she’d shunned the Ashnon’s safe haven and delivered herself into the hands of Molok.

The thought of the demon lord, and the terrible treatment she’d suffered at his hands, made something break inside her, as if a dam she’d created and held in place had suddenly burst, letting out all the pent-up fear and emotions she’d not allowed herself to feel. It was too much for the girl. She cried out. A great sob of emotion escaped her and she collapsed to the floor in a faint.

When Philippa came to, the kind face of her Ashnon escort was looming over her. She was inside, in a large, spacious room, and had been placed on a bed.

‘You need to rest,’ the Ashnon said. ‘You are safe here. You were always safe here, Philippa. Rest now. We need a little time to get the portal open and prepare things for your return to the human realm. Do you want anything? Some water, maybe?’

The Ashnon nodded. ‘Very well. Sleep now, Philippa. And soon we will get you back where you belong.’

Molok sent one of his underlings down to fetch his champion. The demon stood in the doorway, looking through the gap left where the door was wedged in at a strange angle. The creature coughed to announce its presence, and Trey looked up. Shentob, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor checking individual pieces of armour, jumped up and pulled the door aside.

‘Lord Molok demands your attendance in the stand upstairs,’ the demon said in a haughty voice.

‘You can tell Molok to go and take a running jump,’ Trey replied.

‘Lord Molok told me to expect a reaction like that, and instructed me to inform you that failure to comply would lead him to seriously reconsider the deal between the two of you. He told me to tell you that you can take your little girl home in a doggy bag if you’d prefer.’ The demon grinned at the memory of this.

Trey knew that this was all bluff, that the covenants that governed the Netherworld did not allow for any reneging. Sheer bloody-mindedness made him want to rebuff the demon lord, but he thought that he might have pushed things with Molok too far, and he knew that the nether-creature could make life very difficult for Alexa without endangering the terms of their pact. Besides, if he went up now he would get a chance to see the semi-final and take his first look at the phenomenon that was Abaddon the Destroyer.

‘Why didn’t Lord Molok come down himself? Is he sulking from our last little chat?’

‘You are to come in your human form,’ the demon continued, as if it hadn’t heard the teenager, ‘and you are to leave your aide behind.’

‘I will be there in my human form, but Shentob will be joining me.’

‘Lord Molok said—’

Trey morphed and was across the room in an instant.

The werewolf roared into the demon’s face. The nether-creature blenched, screwed up its eyes and hunched its shoulders, certain that it was about to die. A high-pitched mewling sound filled the air, and after a moment the demon realized that
it
was responsible for making the noise. It opened its eyes and looked into those of the giant lycanthrope.

It swallowed.

‘I shall pass on your response to Lord Molok,’ the demon said, and quickly backed away, hurrying off in the direction it had come from.

‘Sit here.’ Molok pointed to a seat by his side.

Trey moved along to take up the place, Shentob following close on the boy’s heels.

Molok regarded the demon servant with utter contempt. ‘There is no seat for
that,’
he said.

‘Shentob does not need a seat,’ the aide replied. ‘He will kneel here beside Trey Laporte.’

The demon lord went to say something, but stopped, waving his hand in the air dismissively instead.

‘I asked you up here to try to clear the air between us.’

‘Clear the air?’

‘Yes. I think our relationship has got off to a bad start.’

Trey stared at the demon in disbelief.

‘I find this . . . friction that has grown between you and me irksome. You are, after all, my champion, and I would rather that the two of us approach what lies ahead on somewhat better terms.’

The teenager shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘Better terms?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me get this straight. You abduct a teenage girl, thinking she was Alexa. Then, when the
real
Alexa comes along, you imprison her too. And you do all this to lure me here. Am I right so far?’ Trey carried on without waiting for an answer. ‘And the
reason
that you wanted to lure me here is to have me compete in this sick, sadistic spectacle that you like to call a Games, where there is a very real possibility that I will be torn apart and killed by some demon that is as vile and twisted as you are. And now you want us to be friends!’

‘Would you care for one of these?’ Molok offered Trey a bag from which he’d been eating. One look at the contents was enough to make the boy’s stomach churn. ‘They’re really very good.’ He turned his attention to the arena floor, where the pre-fight entertainment was a demonstration of archery skill. The targets were moving – moving on their own two legs.

Trey looked across at Alexa, who was sitting on the other side of the demon lord. ‘
Are you all right?
’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘I told you before that I can’t talk to you like that.’ She looked at the demon lord. ‘Not while I’m wearing this.’ She fingered the strange-looking necklace at her throat.

‘What
is
that thing?’ Trey asked.

‘It’s a sorcery serpent,’ Alexa said, talking across Molok. ‘I’m safe as long as I don’t use magic of any kind. If I do . . . I’m dead.’

‘Just a little insurance,’ Molok said, without taking his eyes from the slaughter unfolding on the arena floor. ‘I’ve heard that the halfling girl has become quite the sorceress. She must take after her mother.’ He paused, applauding as the latest victim was dispatched by an arrow to its chest. ‘The mother that
you
killed, Mr Laporte. And, from what I hear, killed in an altogether grisly manner.’ He turned to face the teenager, his smile cruel and unforgiving. ‘Maybe you and I are not as different as you think?’

On the arena floor the last of the unfortunate victims was slain and lay on the sands – a demon pincushion of black arrows.

Molok clapped his approval.

‘We are nothing alike, you and I,’ Trey said. ‘Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to save my friends and others who needed my help. I take no pleasure in seeing others suffer.’

A fanfare of trumpets sounded.

Molok leaned in towards the boy, speaking in a hushed tone that only Trey could hear. ‘Did you not derive some small amount of pleasure when you defeated your opponent earlier? Did no part of you enjoy those final seconds when you dispatched him so mercilessly?’

‘No.’

‘Hmmm, I wonder . . .’ The demon narrowed his eyes at the teenager.

A fanfare sounded from somewhere over Trey’s shoulder.

‘Creatures of the Netherworld!’ The arena floor had been cleared and the MC was back in the middle, turning slowly on the spot, megaphone to mouth.

The crowd erupted. Nether-creatures of every description stood up, shouting and applauding.

‘Please welcome back to the arena the demon who some say is the greatest fighter ever to have graced its sands. A monster among monsters. The undisputed king of the Demon Games. And now fighting for the vampire Caliban. The one. The only. Abaddon the Destroyer!’

The reigning champion was driven into the arena on the back of a golden chariot. The trumpets sounded their fanfare again. It was Trey’s first sight of the demon he was to face in the final, and his heart sank. Abaddon was huge. The garish red of the demon’s skin contrasted dramatically with the gold of the chariot and the belt the creature wore around his sizeable midriff. There was little evidence of a neck. The demon’s great horned head appeared to spring straight from his broad, muscular shoulders, giving the fighter a slightly hunched appearance.
Like a bulldog on steroids
, thought Trey. Everything about the demon was
big.
His legs, his arms, his chest, his hands. Big.

Molok caught the look on Trey’s face. ‘Isn’t he magnificent?’ he asked.

‘He’s . . . larger than I thought he’d be.’

‘Undefeated.’

‘Yeah, so I understand.’

‘Some say he cannot be hurt.’

‘Look, you’re not exactly getting off to the greatest start in your effort to be my new best friend. I’d have thought you would be trying to buoy me up at this stage.’

The demon lord laughed and turned his attention back to the arena floor.

Shentob nudged his young charge, beckoning the teenager down to him. ‘The belt. Do you see the belt?’

Trey nodded. It was a big, ugly thing. The leather part – at least the width of Trey’s stretched hand – encircled the nether-creature’s back, but it was the front that fascinated the teenager. The leather was attached to a massive buckle, so huge that it completely covered the demon’s abdomen, like a prizefighter’s belt. It was decorated; the gold, polished metal was cast in the shape of a face – an ugly, sneering replica of Abaddon’s own features. And sure enough, just as Shentob had described, two almond-shaped holes existed where the eyes should be.

Abaddon’s opponent was brought out. No golden chariot for this demon. No fanfare. And the crowd was already booing and jeering, making cutting motions with their fingers across their throats, as if this nether-creature’s fate was already sealed. At least Trey now knew the reception he could expect when he came out to face the champion.

The challenger was announced, and the fight began.

Abaddon the Destroyer was still turning on the spot and waving at members of the crowd when his opponent launched its first attack. The demon leaped up on to the champion’s back, one arm wrapped around Abaddon’s forehead, the other at his throat. It sank its teeth into the champion’s head just below one of the curved ram-like horns, drawing blood. For a moment there was an almost comical look on Abaddon’s face, as if he was genuinely shocked to have been ambushed in this way. Then the champion roared, launching his huge frame backwards and slamming his opponent into the ground, crushing the creature beneath. He peeled the arms away from his face and neck, and twisted his torso so that he was now on top of his opponent.

The Destroyer rained blow after blow down on his opponent. Trey flinched as the enormous fists pummelled the creature on the ground in an unrelenting and sickening attack. Even above the approving noise of the crowd, the sound that those blows made, like a heavy hammer thudding into soft earth, could be heard.

Trey couldn’t watch any longer. He looked at the ground between his feet, trying to quell the sick feeling in his stomach.

There was an audible crack followed by a great cheer from the crowd. Trey glanced up again and Abaddon was back on his feet. His opponent lay in a mangled, and perfectly still, heap. The champion walked over to the corpse, lifted its head, looked down into the face and laughed. He then picked up the lifeless body, heaving it above his head and straightening his arms so that he could turn in a circle to display his handiwork to his adoring fans before throwing it dismissively back on to the sand.