She turns as Mordred makes his way over, Urim and Thummim trailing in his wake with identical looks of curiosity plastered on their faces.
“Why did you bring her here?” Carman doesn’t need to raise her voice to make her disapproval clear.
“I know it was presumptuous of me,” Mordred says, bowing low, “but I thought it best to give you a choice before the knights decided to burn her at the stake.”
“Choice?”
“Of whether or not you truly want her gone.”
The offhanded way Mordred mentions my demise is like a cold vise around my heart. Carman came back too soon, didn’t give me the chance to work on him, open his eyes to other possibilities. And now he’s offering me up to her, like lamb to slaughter.
“Frankly, I’m not entirely sure she’s trustworthy either,” Mordred continues, still not looking at me. “Let me suggest, therefore, a more entertaining way for her to demonstrate her commitment to this proposed alliance of hers. One that would benefit you whatever the outcome.”
“And what would that be?” she asks.
Mordred’s wolfish grin appears. “What better way for her to prove her worth than through a combat to the death?”
“The Ancient Greeks believed war should be waged once every twenty-five years so each new generation would know how bad it is,” Mordred recites to me, Urim and Thummim hanging off to the side, having lost all interest in us for now.
If this were another time and place, I’d roll my eyes at him and ignore him too. But instead, I watch with growing horror the masses of demons pressing against each other on the stone benches that rise above the arena in tiers. Their excited cheers and yipping fill the chill air as they soak in the latest bloodbath.
They may have left Hell behind, but it certainly has not left them.
“But they failed to mention that it’s a great way to cull the population and do some cleansing,” Mordred continues, “for the greater good of the stock.”
“Is this why you have these games?” I ask. “To cull the weak from your army?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have to manage so many people in one place,” Mordred says. “Give them entertainment enough to forget they can’t stand each other, until we’re ready to get moving.”
I let my gaze fall to the poor souls fighting on the arena’s floor, wondering when I’ll be expected to join them. One of them is Barguest, Gwyllion’s old pet. The hairless demon dog is pawing the ground angrily, head lowered in defense as a couple of demons circle him. The taller of the two swirls to his left, curved sword whistling in the air as she slashes her weapon down.
Barguest lets out a pitiful whine as the blade cuts through his back paws’ tendons, rear end buckling under him. Yet still he tries to fight for his life, jaws snapping bravely. It’s painfully clear, however, that the demon dog isn’t going to make it.
With a grunt of disgust, I turn away from the cruel show.
“You need to watch it till the end, sister,” Mordred says, putting a restraining hand on my shoulder. “Watch and learn.” His voice drops to a whisper. “And remember that you’re under observation. If you want to be part of the inner circle, this type of show should leave you cold.”
I cast a nervous glance over to the box on the opposite side of the stadium, where Carman sits, watching. Her beast is roaming the school grounds, too big to fit even inside the large arena, but not too far off she can’t call it to her at a moment’s notice.
“The smallest wrong move on your part,” Mordred adds, “and you’ll be cut to pieces like that poor bastard down there. But without the chance to defend yourself.”
I breathe slowly through my nose, knuckles white as I tighten my hold on the railing. I may not know what game Mordred is playing, whether he’s trying to save me or helping me sink further, but it’s true I can’t afford to blow my cover now.
To ease my worry, I remind myself of my plan. Step one, separate Carman from her dragon.
Down below, the tall demon impales Barguest on her sword, to the crowds exuberant clamor.
Two, encase her ogham in iron.
The demon twists her sword viciously. Barguest’s ribcage opens with a crack, like the sound of dry wood splintering, and his whimpering suddenly stops. Then, with evident pleasure, the woman plunges her hand inside the dead beast’s thoracic cage to pry his ogham out.
Three, kill the bitch.
The demon holds the blood-covered ogham above her head in triumph, and the crowd goes wild, whistling and shouting, demanding for more.
That’s when the second demon finally decides to make his move. He’s shorter, but lither, flowing across the trampled earth like water, unstoppable. The woman is slowly pivoting on herself, still holding the ogham up like a trophy, drinking in the crowd’s approval.
Then she sees him. Dropping Barguest’s ogham, she lunges for the curved sword still stuck inside the dead demon’s body. But the other demon’s already on top of her, and with quick movements, rips her head right off.
The crowd is stunned into silence. They didn’t expect the fight to end so quickly. My eyes move to the sole survivor with a shiver. This is what Carman expects me to face. What she expects me to kill, if I want to stand at her side.
I hiss out a breath as the demon finally turns to face my side of the arena.
No. Freaking. Way. What is Gale doing down there? He’s supposed to be with Caamaloth’s army, getting ready for my signal to take the dragon down.
“Someone you know?”
I cough to hide my surprise. “Just another knight,” I say meekly.
Urim leans forward. “Yessss,” he hisses excitedly, sounding a lot like the banshee. “Pay up!”
Mordred’s brown creases in barely repressed anger.
“Hey, blame it on the freak,” Thummim says, as Mordred reaches inside the heavy pouch hanging at his hip.
“Looks like it’s your turn,” Urim says, sounding annoyingly cheerful as he pockets his winnings.
“Think your mama’s gonna come all the way here to save you this time around?” Thummim asks me.
“Certainly would please someone we all know,” Urim says, staring across the arena at Carman.
She hasn’t moved an inch since the start of the combats. The only movement comes from her dress, as it billows out in front of her in a sudden gust of wind, like a dark, foreboding cloud. I wonder if she’d even bother with this whole charade if she knew Danu doesn’t have the strength to help me anymore.
“Enough stalling,” Mordred says.
“Please don’t,” I say, balking at the idea of fighting Gale.
I look in panic at my brother, who grabs my hands and gently pries them off the railing.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “we’ve got another opponent for you. And I think you’ll like the surprise.”
Then, with a shove, he sends me flying over the wall and into the fighting pit.
“Show us what you’ve got!” I hear Urim shout as I land sprawling in the sand.
Cheers and laughter arise at my sudden entrance. I climb unsteadily back to my feet, whirling on any would-be attacker. But the only other ones down on the floor with me are a couple of silent Fey who are rushing to clear the latest two corpses, while a Dark Sidhe frog marches a chained Gale back out.
I look up as the crowd suddenly goes quiet, waiting with bated breath as Carman finally shifts in her seat to raise her hand, signaling someone by the entrance.
Goosebumps spread up my arms as a cage is slowly wheeled through the gate, creaking under its weight. It is huge, the height of four men, and requires a dozen demons to pull. Old curtains that must have been torn from dorm room windows cover half of it, obstructing whatever’s locked inside from view.
The wheels stop with a groan as the demons finally let go of the ropes. I watch with dread the lead demon sprint for the back of the cage before vaulting on top of it. Then, muscles bulging under the strain, it pulls the cage’s door open with a loud clang, bef
ore fleeing the stadium with the other demons.
Time ticks away. Cold sweat beads on my forehead. The wind picks up, howling miserably around the arena. Then, with deliberate slowness, a giant creature emerges, pale as a corpse, six long pairs of arms and legs extending and retracting at odd angles, like a deformed spider. It is a thing made of nightmares, a cruel experiment gone massively wrong.
Hesitantly, the monster swivels its head, and my stomach tightens in revulsion as I recognize Father Tristan’s face, empty eye sockets staring straight at me. The creature takes another awkward step, long red hair swinging stiffly about its shoulders, and my knees grow weak at the sight of the second head pushing through where the neck should be—long nose ending prettily above red, red lips stretched in a rictus. Lady Ysolt.
The monster lurches towards the edge of the arena, as if it can’t quite figure out how to use its new limbs. There’s a strange, mewling sound, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from a third face protruding from behind the first set of arms.
I bite back a gasp as the monster twists around to give it a better look.
“Jack,” I hiccup, staring at the boy’s small face. He looks younger without his glasses.
Jack’s mouth opens, pink tongue darting out, and he lets out another of those pitiful cries. I really have to puke.
I turn away, glaring at the ecstatic crowd, hating them all for what they’ve done to my friends. I wish I could destroy them all at once right here, right now. I catch sight of Mordred, still as stone between Urim and Thummim’s shouting figures, and remember his words. Lashing out now is exactly what Carman expects me to do.
I expel a shaky breath. Time to play my part. I turn towards Carman’s box, and bow with flourish.
“My lady, it shall be a pleasure to fight for you,” I yell so she can hear me above the crowd’s cheers.
My shout jolts the chimera[111] to action before Carman can bother to respond, and the crowd’s eager shouts redouble as the monster storms at me in a sudden burst of speed. I drop into a low crouch, watching as the creature’s long legs close the distance between us, long arms swinging wildly at its sides. Ten feet. Five. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I wait. Two feet.
The chimera lets out a high-pitched bellow, a long-fingered hand already reaching for me. But at the last second, I dive to the side.
The monster slides to a stop in a cloud of dust, then spins around to face me again. I cringe at the sight of Lady Ysolt’s forehead bulging beneath Father Tristan’s chin. She opens her mouth wide, and I stare, frozen, as her jaws dislocate completely to let out a terrible shriek.
I cover my ears with a cringe, expecting my eardrums to burst, but not a sound emerges from her distended lips. For a split second, the chimera seems to waver, then the pressure wave hits me with the power of a running train.
Pain rips through my body as I’m hurled through the air, lungs no longer functioning. My right leg hits something solid, and I flip around to slam into the screeching crowd. I can’t breathe. Everything hurts. I fear I’ve shattered my leg. My right arm’s pinned at an odd angle beneath me. And all I can do is stare blearily at the sky-lake.
A high-pitched ringing starts in my ears. I suck in a short, burning breath. A second. The bleachers shake beneath me with the roaring cheer of a thousand demons.
They think I’m done for, vanquished by that horror, fruit of Carman’s retribution. I blink slowly once. Even that hurts. Another shuddering breath.
I need to move. Have to. Through the haze and the pain, I finally manage to roll onto my stomach. But before I can summon the strength to push myself onto my feet, a foot stomps on my good arm.
“I’d stay right where you are, girly,” a demon says, adding weight to his words by placing a rusty dagger at my throat. “Got good money on this game, and you ain’t gonna ruin it for me.”
Cold fury wipes all my pain away. With a startled hiss, the man snatches his foot away. Too late. Within seconds, his whole body’s writhing next to me, bright flames quickly turning the demon to ashes. I glare at the crowd around me, and this time they pull away from me, no longer heckling.
Rage swelling through me, I get back up, testing my injured limbs, making sure they’re setting properly, before returning my attention to the arena floor.
The chimera’s waiting, all three heads twisting grossly around, seeking me out. I swallow bile back down. I can’t let myself think of it as them, as the people I cared for.
Still holding onto the ramp for support, I release all my pent-up anger, fear and frustration, and stamp my foot down repeatedly on the stone step.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
On the fourth stomp, the floor craters out beneath me, power carving out giant boulders from the stadium in a series of deafening explosions. Demons shriek as they try not to fall into the crevices. The chimera whirls on itself, confused by the sounds. I don’t see Lady Ysolt’s mouth open again, don’t hear her second cry, but the tiered benches on the other side of the arena explode under her blast.
I slide my hand out, and the boulders shoot through the air to circle the monster. The chimera turns on itself again, confused by these different targets.
A shudder goes through its long-limbed body, and I pause, hesitating, wondering why it’s shifting its stance. I can feel everyone’s eyes boring into me, wondering what I’m doing. Sweat slowly tracks its way down my neck. Come on, you fool, I tell myself, just finish it.
But I can’t get images of Jack, Lady Ysolt and Father Tristan out of my head. Can’t help but hope there’s a way to revert what’s been done to them.
The chimera’s shoulders slump, all three pairs of hands dropping to its sides as its faces turn to me in anguish.
Saint George’s balls, they know!
Shock ripples through me at the realization that my friend and professors have been locked together into this formless creature, all the while being aware of what was done to them. I bite back a sob. It’s sick. Morbid. Vicious.
“Morgan? Morgan is that you? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
Arthur’s sudden voice acts like a cold shower, cleansing my muddled thoughts until only one thing’s clear: I’m going to put an end to this horror, and make Carman pay for it. All of it.
I’m fine, I mentally tell Arthur, not knowing whether he’ll hear me or not, and hoping he can’t see what I’m seeing.
Standing a little straighter, I close my hand into a tight fist, and the boulders plummet to the ground, pounding the chimera repeatedly until there’s nothing left of the monster, nothing left for Carman to desecrate.
Only then do I plaster a sickening smile to my face and bow before Carman’s lodge.
“I hope the spectacle was agreeable to you, my lady,” I shout over the incensed crowd’s clamor.
Carman’s answering laugh makes me want to rip her eyes out. The witch leans forward in her seat, long, dark hair falling over her shoulders in lustrous waves.
“I think I may keep you after all,” she says.
And, just like that, my most ardent wish and deepest fear come to be.
Chapter 35
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Bri whispers, and I try not to wince at how grating her murmurs sound to my ears.
I stretch my legs out on my pallet, ever so slowly so as not to scream from the pain. Carman may have decided to keep me alive for now, but she still didn’t appreciate my destroying her latest creation, and half the stadium with it.
I doubt she’d be so lenient if she found out I’ve been holding secret meetings in my cell to plot her demise since she locked me up three days ago. I don’t know how Gale and Bri have managed to find me, but I have a strong suspicion it has something to do with Owen, who’s currently keeping watch just outside the door.
“Of course it is,” Gale says, turning the book around so he can show her what he means on the graph. “This symbol here is clearly a Bindrune[112]—”
“I know what Bindrunes are,�
� Bri says, sounding annoyed, “but this clearly…oh.”
“It’s a simple pattern, really,” Gale says, as engrossed in the ward patterns as Bri, “one rune here, and another, followed by a binary Bindrune, then a triple one, so these here should be five, and seven, to follow the Fibonacci sequence[113].”
I tune out their voices, glad that they, at least, are making some progress.
Unlike me. My efforts to bring Mordred to our side have been fruitless. He barely spared me a minute when I first arrived, and since the fight in the arena, he hasn’t bothered to come down to visit me once. Maybe it’s just as well. I can’t forgive him for what he’s done to my friends. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are their distorted faces, screaming at me to free them.
“Now that’s done, let’s talk about the next step in our plan,” Gale says, drawing me out of my nightmarish memories. “I’m here to take down the dragon—”
“You really think you can do anything while Carman’s around?” Bri retorts, still taking notes from her runic book.
“You’ve got it wrong. I need to find a way to cut the dragon up and encase its ogham in iron. Carman is Morgan’s problem.”
“Thanks,” I retort. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, even if you do manage to cut Carman off from her Fey powers, my hands are kinda tied at the moment.”
Gale cocks his head at me. “Whatever happened to the strong-willed girl who defied both a knight and a Fey lord to come here?”
“She’s wizened up,” I mutter.
“Or given up,” Bri says. She looks down, as surprised as I am by her outburst. “Sorry,” she adds in a small voice.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, the words struggling to get out. “It’s just…I thought I knew what I was doing, what I was getting into. I had a plan. But nothing’s going the way it was supposed to. And now I’m lost. And I’ve dragged you guys into it…”
“Morgan, don’t you know nothing ever goes according to plan?” Gale says. And, as he’s done before, he reaches inside the remains of my jacket to pull the poppy he’d given me out of my pocket, the flower bearing but a single red petal now. “That’s why we work together, as a team.”
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