The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga)

by Stephanie Hudson

  His piercing eyes took in everyone around him before he spoke and he arched one thin eyebrow, as though assessing the crowd. Then the faint music began and he shook his blazing red hair which was pulled back into sections, knotted and tied at each point with a little bell on the end. The sharp widow’s peak pointed down his forehead and this combined with the red horn curls of makeup in the same colour was like a warning sign that shouted ‘deadly’.

  “Listen up my esteemed scumbags and assholes, I have great displeasure to welcome thee to pay witness to our first fight to the death. So, without further ado and for your perverted pleasure, raise your fisted hands and growl your greetings for SNOW WHITE AND THE TEN DWARFS!” He said shouting out the last part but still keeping his posh accented voice steady as a rock.

  “Snow White?” I asked only to be shushed by Sigurd. The jester finished with a graceful spin on one foot and a regal bow to the other side of the room. I looked to where he aimed his bow to and saw the shadowed figures that had suddenly emerged from the parted crowd. Hushed murmurs added an extra baseline to the music already playing. The larger figure in the middle walked ahead of the rest and with him came a thick fog that rolled through the room with dramatic effect. I waited for these to be the obvious ones fighting, only to gasp when Sigurd leant down to whisper in my ear. But I couldn’t hear his words over the loud announcement from the jester, which was no doubt the same as what Sigurd had confirmed,

  “My Lord Cerberus.”

  The Beast had arrived.

  Chapter 27

  Freaking Out About Fighting in the Show

  “That’s him?” I whispered as the hulking great figure emerged from the fog and shadows that seemed to follow his every step. I couldn’t believe the massive deal that was making this man out to be the most hideous beast who controlled the Hell’s gates.

  “Really...Another biker?!” I said, this time not being able to keep my voice down.

  “Quiet!” Sigurd snapped pulling me by the arm to stand behind him.

  “What?” I couldn’t understand the big deal. I mean, it just looked like the lead singer of a heavy rock band just walked in with his crew behind him. I peeked round Sigurd to get another look at the guy now taking a seat on a raised area which held a massive black throne. I squinted my eyes trying to get a better look but the details on both throne and occupant were heavily in shadow.

  “What did I say on keeping quiet and letting me handle this?” He said biting his fingers deeper into the top of my arm, just before the point of pain.

  “Fine!” I snapped and yanked myself from his grasp, to fold my arms.

  “But I hardly think what I said was life threatening!” I all but stamped my foot on the compacted earth that was the fairground floor. Sigurd just answered with a trademark growl and turned back to where he saw the jester was coming over. The stage area that had once held sadistically colourful entertainment, now had been converted into a fight ring. Walls of metal poles entwined with twisted tension wire had shot up from the floor to encase the area and the jester simply grabbed the top wire and vaulted over effortlessly.

  He now faced us and on seeing me, he cocked his head to one side, gracing us with a vicious smile, making his little bells jingle.

  “Marcus.” Sigurd nodded and the jester without taking his eyes from me, nodded back saying,

  “Snake Eye.” Then, before directing anymore words at us, the sound of footsteps drew his attention back to the stage. I followed his gaze and saw that the space was now being filled by ten little guys all wearing the same thing. Dwarfs dressed in dark blue military uniforms with red piped jackets and matching metal buttons in V shapes down their breasts, all took their stations around the ring. Then I watched as a naked man in chains was brought forward by four guys dressed like freak show strongmen from the 1930’s, who were all bald and had bulging muscles barely covered in bloody fur tunics. The pale man they dragged in towered over them and I couldn't decide if the strongmen were short or the pale man was overly tall.

  As soon as they got him into the ring, the strongmen let go of the four chains that were wrapped around various parts of his body and made a run for it. Then the jester shouted over his shoulder,

  “Light ‘em boys!”

  I saw someone near the wall nod and then slammed a massive throw switch down until the buzz of electric could be heard travelling along the tension wire around the ring. It was the same time as the large pale man chose to run at the fence, ready to jump it. Unfortunately, he was too late, as the power made its way round the ring and into his body. The shock kept him holding on for moments too long, before he was thrown backwards. He shuddered on the floor and then, curling his body one way and bow it back another, he started to change form. The sound of skin splitting and bone popping seemed to be the symphony people had been waiting for, because the crowd went wild. The man was a man no longer, as white fur folded outwards like petals of the flesh, opening up to the electric current that powered the change.

  Meanwhile, the little army of guards started circling the beast escaping the confines of a man form, as if waiting for the transformation to finish. Soon, there was only a beast of white fur, claws attached to longer twisted limbs and elongated snout of furious snapping teeth. The dwarfs started to run around the ring faster than before and then an alarm sounded, being the cue needed for the crowd to start throwing down bets. Half-naked females, dressed like gothic showgirls in black and white stripes, all started to collect the bets in their top hats.

  Then the heavy beat of pounding drums from a band which just emerged from behind the raised seating area and came into view. This became a heavy rock song as a background for screaming spectators and for a fight to the death…One that was just about to get bloody.

  “I must confess Snake Eye, I did not expect to see you with a piece of forbidden candy. Which shop of damnation tempted you to stick your hand in the human cookie jar?” Marcus asked, leaning a hip against a wooden post that held a black box which looked like a safe made from cooled lava. The girls were all coming back to dump their hats filled with bets into the door that was open, guarded no doubt, by Marcus.

  “Of course, if you have had your sweet fill, then I would be only too happy to take the dark bit of fluff off your hands.” Sigurd snarled and stood a little closer to me, in a clear sign that I was off limits. The jester’s smile was pure evil as it widened across his face, the thin lines of makeup matching the fine arch of one eyebrow. He then winked at me, peeking out behind Sigurd and the snarl deepened to a growl.

  He merely crossed his arms over his chest and then shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care either way.

  “So, if you’re not here to share…which isn’t very polite by the way… what is it you want exactly?” He said the last word directed at the long talons he was examining on one hand. The tips were dipped bloody over black nail varnish.

  “I need to be granted a meeting with Cerberus.” Sigurd stated with confidence oozing from every pore.

  “That’s Lord Cerberus to you!” He snapped, ending the remark with a creepy rake of his tongue between his teeth, making a hissing sound.

  “Then in that case, from one Lord to another I demand my request be granted.” Marcus started laughing at Sigurd’s statement and pushed away from the post, after slamming the safe door closed and spinning the combination lock. He only came to a stop when he was looking up at Sigurd. Even with this being the case, the jester still must have been at least six feet tall.

  “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware you had claimed that title, My Lord Ouroboros…” He then took a step back and swept into a graceful, but mocking, bow before continuing,

  “Forgive me for misplacing the red carpet in your honour, prey do tell me, how I could make up for such blatant show of ignorance.”

  “More like arrogance!” I commented, stepping from behind Sigurd, not being able to hold my tongue any longer.

  “Ah, so it speaks.” He said smiling this time, making me gr
owl.

  “Yeah and this bitch also punches, kicks and bites assholes like you, so prey tell me, do you like having your balls hanging where you can still play with them?” I asked stepping forward happily, making him take a step back. I thought the retreat was out of intimidation on my part, but I knew differently when I saw him bend over into a chorus of raucous laughter. It was an evil sound that grated on my nerves, like someone had stretched them out and was playing them like a violin.

  Meanwhile, behind the amused jester Marcus, the fight was in full swing and the white creature had his claws fully extended. I don’t know about Snow White and the Ten Dwarfs but snow beast and the axe wielding goblins seemed like a more accurate description. The ten soldiers were now, not only armed, but their faces had changed into a mass of boils, split skin and pus dripping holes.

  They were running as one, trying to take the beast down by swinging at his legs, like miniature loggers going at a pair of tree trunks. The beast roared at the ceiling and then swiped out and down low, taking out at least six of the ten dwarfs still standing. They went down like pins at a bowling alley and when one started to crawl away in a desperate attempt to get from under the large feet, the beast took the opportunity to strike. He rolled his long tongue out over his dripping snout, all in anticipation for the crack of a spine that followed with one stamping foot on the little guy’s back. His small limbs stopped moving and soon resembled nothing more than a child sized squashed bug.

  The others soon found their feet and re-evaluated the white beast, who had started playing with their fallen companion’s dead carcass. I had no clue how they were intending to bring down such a creature, but the jester’s knowing voice soon drew my eyes from the brutal playground of the stage.

  “I have no doubt you could my dear, but it will take more than spunk to get you what you seek. And you, ‘My Lord’ of the Ouroboros, well, you should know better, as I am sure you are more than aware the deep feelings My Lord Cerberus holds for the species of your pet. I suggest you both leave before he sees her and makes you take a bite outta her beautiful skin for his amusement.” On hearing this, I decided it was a smart move by taking the few steps back behind my large growling protector.

  “And you Marcus, should know better than to threaten any pet of MINE!” The deep demonic word wasn’t only a threat to the man he was speaking with, as everyone that was close enough to reach out and touch me suddenly decided I was too much of life risk. I didn’t know what was worse; feeling like a bone being fought over by two dogs or being referred to as the damn dog!

  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more thrilled to know that instead of just saying ‘ah to Hell with it, you take her, she is more trouble than she is worth’, Sigurd was instead fighting my corner. But how I felt about being referred to as his pet was another thing and if he carried on doing so, then he was going to be cleaning up my shit in an entirely different way!

  “Well then, I guess it’s your funeral my old friend, as you know the only way to be put in the same space as Lord Cerberus is to rather be there for his entertainment or at his mercy, neither will bring you a good outcome, Snake Eye.” At this Sigurd started laughing.

  “By the Gods, has your mind become so old you have forgotten what happened the last time I was in that ring, for I recommend you dust it off before you feel the need to warn me of such things.” Now it was the jester’s turn to snarl his reply, losing that cool countenance and cocky visage.

  “Yes and I am old enough to know better of times long past and times brutally changed. The sport of blood is not what it once was, thanks to the King, who no longer has his uses for it!” I gasped at the sound of Draven being mentioned and Sigurd pushed me completely behind him before Marcus could take notice of my response. After all, what would a little ‘pet’ like me know about someone as powerful as Draven, when someone like Jared Cerberus wouldn’t see a mere human?

  “Enough of this Marcus, just do what needs to be done to get me the meeting.” At this he finally nodded in defeat and then muttered,

  “It’s your choice of a final resting place, my old friend,” before turning his attention back round to the fight still taking place. I too couldn’t help looking back at the bleak sight.

  The music started to change into something heavier and more demonic as the show was obviously coming to the bloody end. A few more small corpses lay still, that had been battered and broken into a mere shell of the beings they were before. But six still remained and it looked to be all that was needed to bring down the beast. They decided the best attack was to form as one, all now standing on each other’s shoulders to create the height needed.

  So, as one swaying body of twenty four limbs, they worked together to pass up the biggest of the axes to the top dwarf. He then used it to swing back, making the rest wobble in a comical way, causing the crowd to break out in cheers of laughter. I was disgusted to say that, even when the force brought that axe back over his little head, to then crash into the face of the beast, it didn’t stop the laughter. The beast howled in pain as the blade split his muzzle in two sections and the blood sprayed out over the front row, causing excited shrieks. I could only bury my face into Sigurd’s back, to hide from the beast’s last breaths on this plane. The crowd didn’t follow my repulsed views as they erupted into a deafening applause, most even standing as the six dwarfs left standing all joined hands to take a bow.

  “This is sick.” I whispered into Sigurd’s back.

  “No pet, this is entertainment, Demon style!” Marcus was the one to answer me over his shoulder, just before the thrown switch was killing the power in time for the jester to once again take the stage. His lithe form bent over the wired fence like an Olympic high jumper, landing gracefully behind the six winners.

  “A cheer now for destruction of ‘Meh-The beast’ brought down by the brothers Kobold!” The room again went crazy at the jester’s praise and the dwarfs started to climb over the fence to then throw themselves into the crowd like they were the singers at a rock concert.

  “What is the ‘Meh…eh, something beast? And the Kobold, are those the little guys?” I asked not being able to help the bubbling of questions. I heard Sigurd’s little groan before he turned to face me. This time, however, I could swear I saw the little flash of where his eyes would be in the shadows his hood created.

  “The Kobold are a race of what you would think of as Goblins, although I can assure you, nothing like what your fantasy mythology dictates. They are more like demonic helpers that thrive from the leadership of others. And, as you have seen, are great little fighters in numbers.” I shook my head wondering how much more of this night could I take, but when Sigurd carried on with answering my question, I discovered my limits,

  “The Meh-The beast is also better known to your kind as a Yeti, but to us, a once faithful protector of the Kangchenjunga Himal Demon door that resides there in the Himalayas. He is a creature made by Jared Cerberus and was here today for his betrayal, or so I heard.”

  “This is his idea of punishment?!” I said outraged at the sheer brutality of it and feeling sorry for the soulless carcass now being dragged off stage. Sigurd merely shrugged his hefty weight, as if it didn’t really matter. I walked a few steps to the stage and then whirled round when I saw the jester was now talking over the fence to someone making his way round the sides.

  “What’s he going to do with him next, make a rug outta him for his fire place or just nail his ass to the bloody wall?” I snapped now facing Sigurd, only the grim line of his lips didn’t look directly at me, but more like over my head and I soon knew why.

  “Actually, I was considering mounting his fucking head on my wall, but now I am thinking of making room for another…” I felt a strong and insanely large hand circle the column of my neck, before I was yanked backwards into a hard chest. I felt lips at my neck and the next threat whispered along my skin, like a deadly sting.

  “…and here we have such a pretty little head.” He then snapped my
head back with a brutal grip in my shoulder length hair before I looked up into the face of the Beast and now something told me my number was up!

  “Let her go!” Sigurd ordered in a demonic command that made me flinch.

  “Ah, so I have you to thank for bringing this little human snack to my attention. You know I don’t usually like these weak, feeble creatures but I must confess, this one holds an appeal like I have never known. Wherever did you find her, Snake Eye?” He asked as his eyes never left my frightened ones. His fingers caressed my neck and did the same at the back of my head, but I was at a loss to know why. It was soothing down my fear, preventing it from reaching fever pitch.

  “I will not speak of her until we are far from prying eyes, now release her.” He took a step closer to me, the shadows beneath his hood starting to flow out and the soothing fingertips turned deadly in a heartbeat, once again putting my neck in a punishing hold. I cried out, making Sigurd stop and rethink his next move.

  “You know what I could do with her with a mere flick of my wrist, so I suggest you keep your darkness in check.”

  “Don’t hurt her!”

  “Umm, now I am intrigued and must confess a strange urge myself to protect this body, rather than naturally peel the pale skin from her tender flesh…so I have to wonder…” he suddenly flipped me round to face him and finished with a gentle bent finger running down the length of my cheek.

  “…what are you, my little bisque doll?” I closed my eyes and tried not to look at his face, thinking that given the harsh voice that matched Sigurd in the deep and gravelly department, nothing good could come from looking the Beast in the eye. I bit on my bottom lip and shook my head, hoping he got that I wasn’t going to answer him. His booming laughter came right before my body was suddenly turned upwards. He literally just threw me over his shoulder. I braved opening my eyes to find Sigurd being held back by about five massive guards, rage evident on his twisted features. The Beast that held me just laughed harder making me shake and then finally said,