Waltzing into Damnation

by Rita Stradling

  “Will it be on our cruise schedule?” the goat man-demon insists.

  “We will arrange everything for your entertainment,” Caroline says, giving a non-answer the goat man seems to know as such.

  He shows large, black buck teeth while his pupils split vertically. His voice goes low as he says, “I really hope to see the Bad Bunny show on the schedule.”

  His vehemence is both surprising and a bit of a relief. As is the large crowd of demons waiting nearby seemingly for Caroline to give an answer on the Bad Bunny show.

  Caroline opens her jaw wide, showing rows of sharp teeth in an otherwise supermodel-looking face. She growls, “The Bad Bunny show will be on when I say it’s on.”

  Demons obviously handle customer service issues differently than humans. And it’s clear not everyone is a fan of our spontaneous performance. Unfortunately, it also seems the demon deciding our fate is the antithesis of a fan. The other demons grumble, and some bare their many and varied sets of teeth. But most them wander away to their deck chairs or toward where I assume the aerial show is.

  Caroline turns her shark-tooth smile at each of us. “Stowaways?” she rasps, looking past the point of murder as she asks the one-word question.

  “No,” the burly female security guard says, but she doesn’t sound quite sure about it. “They said a demon sent them here, and they want to claim sanctuary. They told the truth. But I’m thinking there’s more to the story than just what they said. The passengers liked the Bad Bunny show . . . maybe we should keep the bunny alive. I can take him.”

  “I know they like the Bad Bunny show. I saw that they liked the ridiculous Bad Bunny show.” Caroline stomps her stiletto heeled foot, obviously not at all happy about this fact. “Come with me, and we’ll deal with you three in private.”

  I’m about to bring up that there are four of us and we’re sticking together when I realize she’s not counting Nicholas.

  Without another word, the tall, beautiful cruise director spins on her heels and marches toward one side of the pool deck.

  Cassidy leans over and whispers to Linnie, “You carry Nicholas and stay in front of me. Raven, you walk beside me.”

  I follow Cassidy’s instructions right away, knowing if anyone is going to get us out of this encounter alive, it would likely be the badass demon hunter that isn’t a bunny. Squishing and dripping in our sopping wet shoes and sweatshirts, we trail after Caroline into the ship.

  Decorative glass doors slide open for us, and we enter a hallway with patterned crimson carpet and gold, mirrored walls. More than one demon cranes their necks, some three hundred and sixty degrees, to look at Nickolas in Linnie’s arms. I’m getting the feeling the bunny fixation doesn’t stop with the security guards who flank me too close on my left and the other side of Cassidy.

  We pace to a bank of elevators, and Caroline presses the down-arrow button several times, obviously impatient to get our party out of the many curious demons’ view.

  I’m not sure where we’re in more danger, out here with hundreds of passing demons or in the private office of the pissed off demon cruise director.

  We wait as the elevator indicators light up two, three, four, five, and I peer down the hallway toward a gathered group of humanoids. Cassidy was right, there are without a single doubt more than demons on this ship’s passenger roster. On many creatures it’s subtle, like a sheen on their skin or a bubbling out as if something undulated and writhed just beneath the flesh. Other creatures have even more obvious inhuman characteristics. As in the crowd at Räum’s Muay Thai fights, many of these monsters have more than one head sprouting from their necks or extra sets of limbs. They all line up outside of another set of sliding doors, obviously trying to get into what looks to be a buffet.

  From the sliver I can see inside it, the food on offer looks typical. I expect finger food to be actual fingers with demons, but what I see is a bagel bar with spreads and a dessert display. To one side, several scaly-looking humanoids wait by an ice cream vendor.

  Demons in line for soft serve.

  It’s all a little too weird for words.

  The elevator bank opens to reveal a car full of what look like trolls. And I don’t mean that unkindly; they look like every bridge troll illustration I’ve ever seen in books like the Three Billy Goats Gruff. It isn’t just that they are small, wrinkled, and have shark teeth, their skin cracks and fissures, looking to be more like stone than flesh, and their eyes hold a voracious hunger just as the demons did, but without the tell-tale glow.

  Caroline smiles wide at the trolls, or what I’m pretty sure are trolls. “Are you getting off here?”

  “Top floor.” One of the trolls grates his teeth as his gaze lands on bunny Nicholas. Without a second’s hesitation, the troll lunges. “Live meat!”

  The female security guard moves faster than I can see, grabbing the troll by his gnarled throat as he reaches for bunny Nicholas. “It’s not live game,” she growls down, “that’s Bad Bunny, the entertainment.”

  Caroline’s hand lands on the burly security guard’s arm, then sharp talons sprout from her finger and dig into the female demon’s skin. “Let go, Fran.”

  The guard blinks wildly and slowly unclenches her hand to drop the troll to the elevator ground. “I am sorry, sir.”

  “Please accept a free round of drinks on the house. We’ll be taking another way down,” Caroline growls through a sharky smile. Releasing the security guard, Caroline snaps at us, “This way.”

  And again, we all march further into the ship.

  The floor gently rocks beneath us, not so much to make me feel unsteady, but enough to feel like I’m missing my step even though I’m not. We follow the cruise director through doors labeled ‘crew only’ and into a echoing metal stairway, conspicuously plain and undecorated except for the monotone white paint that covers every surface.

  Our steps echo loud as we descend without speaking. The female security guard falls into step beside Linnie and bunny Nicholas, and I’m not sure if I’m relieved about it or not.

  Ten floors down, Caroline heads for metal and glass doors identical to the ones we came through and back into the decorative, light-filled hallway.

  The hall empties out into a circular atrium with what must be twelve floors open above. Lights reflect off glass railings and metal ceilings. A giant decorative chandelier swings gently above us.

  The distinctive rattle, clanging, and dinging of slot machines sounds from floors above. Caroline directs us to the side where a long stretch of doors line up, all sporting plaques that proclaim these are the offices of the director of housekeeping, food service, and maintenance. At the end, a plaque proclaims, ‘Caroline Mart, Cruise Director.’

  A sudden pulse of panic hits me as Linnie heads for the door, clutching the rabbit.

  Push comes to shove, these demons will burst into ash and be sucked into Hell if they attack me. I might be dead by then, but I’ll take them with me. Cassidy can take care of herself, and Nicholas seems to be the cruise line’s new unofficial mascot. But then there’s Linnie.

  It always seems to be my sister’s vulnerability that weakens our position the most, just as Cassidy said.

  I wish she left to Leijonskjöld with Richard Jones. Except Barbas said that probably isn’t going to be safe for too long either.

  There’s literally nowhere to go but onward into the next disaster. With those dire thoughts, I follow my sister into the demon cruise director’s office.

  Polished wood gleams on all sides. A large mahogany desk bolts to the floor. A round bolt-hole window gives a view of nothing but blue sky dappled with wisps of white.

  The room holds no possessions or decorations with personality, not that it would. What family photo would a demon post? The only thing not human-like about the office is a splatter on one wall of what looks like blood and chunks of something gorier I really attempt not to look at.

  Everyone files in, with two security guards taking up station at the door and Car
oline situating herself on the desk chair. Cassidy goes to stand to one side of the chair on the opposite side of the desk, signaling Linnie to stand beside her and me to take the chair.

  I’m sure there’s a method to her madness. I trust Cassidy’s ability to keep us alive and follow suit, falling into the chair across from Caroline the demon.

  The cruise director leans her forearms on the desk and taps her blood-colored nails on the wood. “You came for sanctuary? From whom?”

  “I was told this ship takes anyone with a demon infection if they want to claim sanctuary,” Cassidy says.

  Caroline’s jaw works back and forth, as if Cassidy’s statement makes the demon woman want to smack someone. “You’re all demon infected? And answer me with a yes or no.”

  The security guards lean in, menacing.

  “No,” Cassidy says, drawing out the word.

  “No, the bunny’s not,” I say. “He was changed by a demon though.”

  Caroline says nothing for almost a minute, just looking at us with her big brown eyes. With her mouth closed, I can’t help thinking she’d be a shoe-in to be cast for a fairy tale princess. She just has that delicate and bashful appearance with her rosy cheeks and bee-stung lips that makes you think: she’s probably nice and is friends with the little creatures of the forest.

  Ha.

  Cassidy shifts her weight, and I have a feeling she’s preparing herself for a very cramped fight with three demons.

  Chewing on my lip for a second, I say slowly and methodically, “I have prophecies in my dreams and know people’s secrets, Linnie.” I gesture to my sister. I attempted to say the last statement so it won’t read as a lie but still sound like the secret-sensing is Linnie’s power, and then I continue quickly with, “And Cassidy turns into a lioness.”

  The demon cruise director’s gaze snaps up to Linnie. “You’re the one who knows secrets?”

  Everything in me clenches, and I want to talk for my sister, but it might make it obvious if I refuse to let her speak at all.

  I’m about to do it anyway when Linnie stands tall and smiles at the demon as if Caroline isn’t on the edge of killing all of us. “I don’t know any of your secrets,” she says, showing that thank all that is holy she at least kind of gets this talking to demons thing. “And if I learn anyone’s secrets here, I’ll keep them to myself.”

  Yes!

  I force my mouth into a neutral position, but my lips fight me, wanting to grin wide at my sister’s ingenuity.

  The statement must read as truth to the cruise director because, after thirty more seconds of her staring my sister down, her gaze descends back to me. “And now you . . .” The demon sniffs deeply, lifting her head up as she does. “Why do you bear my master’s mark?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Three Days Before

  I often think about the lesson Stephen Tapper gave me almost two years ago right before we went into Copenhagen City Hall to confront Andras.

  Jeez, could that only be two years ago? It feels like an era.

  Stephen had shown me kindness when everyone else was so ready to condemn me. And for the first time in this whole descent into the Hell that became my life, someone gave me a clue on how to survive.

  He told me of the deception dance, or that was what he called it. It was learning to dance with words around the truth so you could both deceive demons and know their deceptions. Before that moment, I was at the whim of a tide of manipulations; after that moment, I learned to fight the current. I learned to be like the demons so I could defeat them. Stephen even comforted me when the reality of how demon-like I was becoming scared the hell out of me.

  And as the demon stares down at me after pretty much telling me she knows who I really am, I’m amazed at how calm I feel. I can practically feel the anxiety roll off Cassidy and Linnie in waves and the two security guards shift closer.

  Leaning back in the chair, I rub a hand over the mark and stare at the she-demon. “Unfortunately for me, Andras made an agreement with me over my soul. I didn’t know he was a demon at the time, and it was a long time ago. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Andras marked me after it was finished. I haven’t been able to bargain for its removal yet.”

  “Good,” she says, creepily uplifted by the idea that her master owned my soul.

  Thankfully, he didn’t; not exactly.

  I’d agreed in my past life as Elena that I would go to Hell with him if he went there; little did I know at the time, the agreement was binding, literal and for eternity.

  Caroline smacked her hand on the desk, leaving tacky bloody fingerprints there. “I grant you sanctuary. The term is a lifetime of servitude, though I assume you already know that, as you’re the one who asked for sanctuary. You can have shore time off every other landing, rotating with the crew members. The shifts are twelve hours a day. Crew rooms are six to a room, and I can’t guarantee you’ll be together.”

  She speaks fast, gesticulating with her words, both the speech and movements seeming memorized. “Most of the crew members are infected as you yourselves are, but there are also other creatures of various sorts that sought sanctuary without the available funds to be upstairs. We expect all our crew members to be careful to learn each other’s cultural sensitivities to avoid murder as much as possible. We understand that murder to some degree is unavoidable down there, but we would prefer it be kept at a minimum to preserve the workforce and enjoyment of the guests upstairs.”

  She pauses as if waiting for our acquiescence.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Linnie awkwardly raise her hand while still holding Nicholas.

  “Yes?” Caroline lifts a sculpted brow.

  “Is there a way we can a have shorter term than a lifetime term?” she asks, and that’s where my mind has been stuck this whole time too.

  “No. This is already settled. All of this is just a formality and to make the transition easier. The term is lifetime and at the management’s discretion.” Caroline bares her sharp teeth. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Linnie says. “So, when you say a lifetime term, are there any exceptions? What if something comes up and we’re kidnapped or late to get back on the boat through no fault of our own?”

  “You’ll be hunted down by demons and dismembered. It’s non-negotiable. And moving on—”

  “You said at the management’s discretion,” I interrupt, even knowing that interrupting the irked demon is probably bad for my health. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we can revoke the sanctuary and you can be thrown out at our discretion. Troublesome workers usually die long before we even consider revoking a sanctuary.” She tilts her head to look up at the guards standing by the door. “Do you even remember a single time a sanctuary was revoked, Buck?”

  “No,” the big, burly male demon spits out.

  Caroline turns her hideous smile back to us. “And he’s been here longer than I have. We as the management agree not to murder you, but if a guest or fellow crew member has a mind to do it, we rarely stop them.”

  “Lovely,” Cassidy whispers under her breath.

  “You should be grateful; I was really hoping to kill you and that ridiculous bunny. Now I’ll just have to wait for you to get on some other demon’s last nerve.” Pulling out her desk drawer, she extracts a stack of papers and clicks the back of a pen. “What’s your work experience?”

  “Both Raven and I are studying the history of art and going into our final year if uni ever starts up again. I’ve done ten years of mixed martial arts training, bodyguard duty, I’m trained in weaponry, sharpshooting—”

  “I’ll put you in housekeeping,” Caroline interrupts as she writes it down on the paper. She points the pen at me. “Now, you.”

  “Eleven years of dance. I’ve also worked in a bar,” I volunteer, hoping to try to get any job that will get me closer to Santiago, who I assume works as a performer. “I’m really hoping to work in your entertainment department. The demons all loved our show
--”

  “And you will go to housekeeping,” she says as she writes it on the next page. And with her words, another knowledge pops into my head. Caroline doesn’t care about what the demons on the cruise line like for entertainment. She’ll never tell her superiors, but she hates the gauche, classless demons. They would watch what she wants them to watch, or they could jump off her boat.

  Obviously, our bad bunny routine is only going to take us so far.

  “You,” she says to Linnie.

  “I’m a communications major—”

  “And another for housekeeping.” She sets down the pen. “Now, Buck will take you down to your rooms while Fran takes these intake forms over to HR. You should expect your uniforms within the hour and can clock on for the after-dinner shift and work until midnight. Feel free to eat in the cafeterias; the dining room is off limits, on pain of death.”

  Thanks to my very irregular life, I’d never really had the chance to work a regular job. Yet somehow, this hiring feels weirdly customary aside from the lifetime of servitude, dismemberment if you try to leave, and likely murdered by your co-workers bit.

  We all just sort of stand and then wander out after Buck the demon. The other demon guard files out after us, trudging in the opposite direction before Caroline slams the door to her office.

  As we turn the corner, I see the demon Fran shoot one more wistful look over her shoulder at Nicholas before we head into a wide, carpeted stairwell.

  Demons and assorted odd creatures pass us, heading up as we head down. Many sport fine evening wear that accommodates extra limbs, tentacles or inhumanly tall and lean forms.

  They pay little interest to us, except a few who stop to grin at Nicholas. The crowd thins out as we descend past the numbered floors and into the lettered ones.

  Down the first hallway, an enormous cheetah sits centrally among several crew members, his tawny spotted fur gleaming against the overhead lights. For some reason, out of all of the creatures on board, he’s the one I need a double take at. Raising his head, the big cat sniffs the air before his eyes fix on Cassidy.