The Monster Games

by Flint Maxwell

  “Forfeit?” I asked. “We can’t forfeit.”

  “I’m beginning to think no amount of gold is worth our lives,” Zack said.

  Maddie blew a raspberry. Her face was ashy and her eyes were distant. “Ha!” she said. “Zackary’s gone soft. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “It’s not about the gold now,” I said.

  Really, it never was.

  It was about the gaslings, about Fizzler and Gizzler and the eggs in their magical slime and even the elders. I wouldn’t give up that easy. No. Not yet.

  Then a strange voice came into my head. The voice of a dead monster. It was Frank the ‘Stein telling me the Games were fixed. No matter what I’d do, I’d still lose. But was that true? There was no way. That wouldn’t be fair… Then again, when have killer monsters ever been fair? Why would they send a basilisk to kill me if we’d never be able to win anyway? I didn’t know what to believe.

  “You can’t go on by yourself,” Zack said. “It’s not safe.”

  “As soon as I do and as soon as I finish the task, it’ll be safe. And the sooner the better. Maddie needs help,” I said. “I win and she can get the help she needs.”

  “I’m fine,” Maddie blubbered. “I’m bleeding a lot, but I’m fine, I swear.”

  Zack gently grabbed her hand.

  “Are you sure?” he asked me.

  “No other way,” I said. “The building isn’t far. I have to try at least, don’t I?”

  Zack didn’t answer. He saw the determination in my eyes. Maybe he sensed it, too.

  It was then that the crowd in the arena roared so loud that we could hear it all the way up here. Fireworks went off down there.

  Shit. That meant that one or all of the monsters had made it to the Fang. Neither Zack or I said anything about losing first place. Right then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of the task before Maddie or Zack or me wound up dead.

  “We’ll be right here,” Zack said, breaking the silence.

  I got up from my crouch. Listened to the wind, to any other noises. The cheers died. The rolling echo of the fireworks faded. I heard nothing besides the ripping and tearing of the ‘Steins’ flesh. I hate to say it, but right now, since it was a distraction to the rabid vampires, that was a good sound. The best damn sound I’d heard in a long while.

  I gripped my sword tight and turned my back on the rest of the Fright Squad, ready to prove an arena full of thousands of monsters wrong.

  “Abe,” Zack said before I left. “Try not to get killed, man.”

  I looked over my shoulder and tried a smile without much luck.

  22

  The Bloody Castle

  The path to the building was clear. The closer I got to it, the more it looked like a medieval castle. I thought that was odd. Of the many monsters competing in the race, I’d only seen a handful among the weeds and bramble. Dead.

  The rest. Well, the rest must’ve made it to the castle.

  I approached the building. Up and around a bend. There, the last demon was stuffed into the yawning maw of a dead banshee.

  Someone had a sense of a humor, obviously. I didn’t find it funny. If anything, it was a little scary.

  I looked behind me. The wind picked up speed. Howled like a werewolf.

  Up here, closer to the top of the mountain, I could see the land of Rodania beyond. The arena. The swamps. Even a speck on the horizon that was the tree Gizzler had taken me up. I saw the stones where Maddie and Zack were currently hiding. I hoped they’d be all right. I really did. And though, I was slightly worried about them, a different part of my mind was telling me that they’d be okay. Zack may be a horrible shot, but he was a part of the Fright Squad, and the Fright Squad weren’t chumps. No matter how many times Lorne or Dalton from the SOD might’ve commented so on our official Facebook page.

  In the distance, I also saw more rabid vamps joining the feast of the ‘Steins. They were little more than large bones now, like the fossils of dinosaurs. But there were plenty of other monster corpses to dine on.

  Just as long as they weren’t dining on Maddie or Zack. Or even me.

  I turned back. The castle’s entrance was twenty feet away from me. Over the howling of the wind, I heard no other noises.

  The place was spooky. Gothic in appearance. A handful of towers ending in points as sharp as any blade jutted into the sky. Windows were blacked out by dirt and dust and age. The stone was a faded gray, white-washed by the elements.

  I wondered whose castle this was.

  Then again, did I really want to know?

  Holding the sword, I stepped forward. Up the brick walkway. Through the opened doors taller than even a ‘Stein.

  Inside, the smell of dust and cold stone hit me. There was almost no light. It was like walking into one of those impossible doorways, like the one I’d seen in Perdition Cemetery.

  A shudder rippled through me.

  I had to keep telling myself that I was Hercules Crowley’s son. I was a founding member of the Fright Squad. I was brave. I wasn’t scared.

  But it was the silence that got to me, I think. That was the worst part. That, and being alone.

  The Fright Squad without its squad was just but one person. And the odds of one person against an army of monsters weren’t good.

  Through the entrance hall, my eyes began adjusting. I thought I saw a flicker of light. I squinted, which I thought was funny. Why squint when I could hardly see in the first place?

  The human brain was an odd thing.

  But I was right. My eyes hadn’t deceived me. Through a crack in a door in front of me, firelight shined. I approached this door. It had its own gravitational pull and I’d been sucked in, unable to fight my way out.

  Just as I’d reached to push the door inward, it opened by itself.

  The scene that greeted me caused my heart to freeze. My insides filled with ice cold water. I suddenly felt like I was drowning.

  I had entered some great hall, a place where kings and queens entertained guests, not entirely unlike the hall where we had our Champions’ feast the previous night.

  That feast had been pretty gross because of what had been on the menu, but this…this was worst.

  Scattered among the white marble floor were the mutilated bodies of all the contestants. Well, those who made it here.

  Decapitated vampires. A banshee with her scalp ripped off, not cleanly, either. The last ‘Stein looked like he’d been put through a meat grinder. I saw two werewolves that weren’t wholly werewolves anymore. They were in the process of changing back to their human forms. One was a man with long blonde hair and a darker beard. He looked like he might’ve been a rockstar in another life. The other was bald and old, his face wrinkled and contorted with pain. In their chests, pulsing blood like fountains, were smoking holes.

  Silver bullets.

  Someone had shot them with silver bullets. Guns weren’t allowed in the competition. No projectile weapons.

  So how? So who?

  These were questions I couldn’t answer. Nor was I sure I wanted the answers to.

  Against the fear, against my better judgment, I stepped forward through the gore and the bodies. My soles squeaked in the blood. The sound carried far and wide in the large hall.

  As I got closer and I managed to get a hold of my fear again, I saw what waited for me at the other end. On a throne covered in cobwebs and dust.

  A glittering fang.

  The Fang.

  In my excitement, I sped up. I slid, caught myself, and realized it probably wasn’t the best idea to go and start sprinting through the leaking brains and guts of the downed monsters.

  On that throne was my ticket to winning the Games. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would have no one to compete against anymore.

  The monsters were dead.

  I stopped in front of the throne now and looked at the Fang. It was a long and curved dagger made of bone. It had once belonged in the mouth of some great beast. />
  What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I wondered to myself, looking down at the Champions’ bracelet, which possessed empty holes around its circumference.

  Shove the fang into one of the holes? There was no way it would fit.

  Another curious thing, I thought. I saw no cameras. If this was the most important part of the first task then where were the drones whirring above my head, broadcasting this terrible scene to the monsters in the arena, the view boxes, and at home?

  So much was wrong. So much was off.

  Yet, here I went being stupid again. Typical Abraham Crowley behavior.

  If Maddie and Zack had been with me, I don’t think I would’ve reached out for that bone. I don’t think I would’ve even entered the dimly lit hall. Not after I’d pushed the doors open and saw the blood and entrails dashed all along the white marble floor.

  Alas, they weren’t here. Which meant that it was a perfect time for me to revert back to my natural state. Perfect time to do what I did best.

  Act stupid.

  I reached out and my hand hovered around the great artifact. Aside from feeling like Indiana Jones at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark, I felt a buzz ripple through my palm. It was not wholly pleasant, either. My hand opened. Blood spilled out from the wound. I barely noticed.

  As my fingers closed around it, a gurgling voice reached my ears, giving me a warning.

  Too late.

  I held the Fang, raised it up with a manic smile on my face.

  “I won!” I said.

  That was when the pained voice finished and I realized who it had come from. Against the wall to my left, covered in shadows, was the she-wolf who had saved my life. Her gut was slashed open. She was in the process of reverting back to her female self. That meant she was half-wolf, half-woman at the time my eyes found her. That meant she was naked.

  What did I do? Well, I did what any respectable guy would do, I gawked like an idiot. When I caught myself staring, my jaw hanging open, the Fang at my side dripping with my own blood, buzzing and all but forgotten, I mumbled an apology.

  “L-Listen to me!” she barked. Her voice, despite her current condition, was very strong. “It’s a trap. P-Put it back and r-run for your life.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. My mind was whirling. I’d been so caught up with winning, I forgot I might not be able to.

  The ‘Stein’s voice repeated in my head again. It’s fixed. No one can win… I could barely hear it, barely make out the words.

  Something was happening. Something I wasn’t prepared for.

  But go figure, right?

  The air in the room grew colder. My back was to the empty throne as I looked at the half-naked, transforming and dying she-wolf. Behind me, I felt a presence. An evil presence. A shadow came over the entire hall. The flames flickered and dimmed.

  “He is here,” the she-wolf moaned. “He is back. Run while you s-still can!”

  “You should’ve listened to her, young Abraham,” a new voice said, a voice I knew very well.

  I spun around slowly.

  Sitting on the throne like he owned the damn place, was Doctor Blood, my number one mortal enemy.

  23

  A Master Plan

  “I knew I smelled something rotten,” I said.

  Doctor Blood smiled. Sat up straighter in the old throne. Then he snapped his fingers.

  From the shadows high above in the vaulted ceiling, came rabid vampires. They were snarling, drooling, looking at me like I was the most delicious thing they’d ever seen. Covering them was the different colored blood of the monsters they had massacred before I’d gotten here. The most prominent of those colors being red.

  “I knew you’d make it up, my friend,” Doctor Blood said. “You are quite strong. Maybe even stronger than that wasted specimen your father was. I had no problem disposing of him. Now you…you, Abraham Crowley, have proven your worth to me. Perhaps I’ve done you a favor by not letting you be raised by such a weak man. If one could call Hercules Crowley a man…”

  He was just trying to get a rise out of me. I’ll admit, he was doing a great job.

  But something was off. I couldn’t move. My arms and legs went rigid. Every muscle in my body but my eyes had frozen up. I couldn’t even snarl at the Wraith in front of me. Couldn’t even swivel my head to try and plan my exit. The rabid vamps crept closer. Out of the corners of my eyes I saw they weren’t rabid. Not with the Madness, at least. They’d been infected by Doctor Blood’s infinity disease, like the many creatures that had attacked and shut down the NOD a couple of months ago. Like the werewolf and naked hunchback ghoul at Perdition Cemetery.

  The flesh of their faces wiggled and squirmed. I had terrible flashbacks of the penis-tentacle. Not for the first time since the Monster Games had started, either. Luckily for me I couldn’t see any genitalia hanging low, ready to pounce.

  Yes, I looked.

  It was the cut in my hand. The Fang had done something to me. Had brought Doctor Blood here. How?

  Doctor Blood looked positively pleased. He straightened up on the throne, looking down from the dais, with a shit-eating grin on his face. I was sure he was gonna start clapping.

  That just made me hate him even more. I didn’t think that was even possible.

  Against the voodoo magic of the Fang holding me back, I spoke up.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Simple,” he answered. “I hate you. You’re my worst enemy. The one I fear the most.”

  “Your honesty is refreshing,” I said. “But you’re still a p-prick.”

  Doctor Blood laughed. Slapped his knee. “Joking, of course! About the fear, that is. I don’t fear you. But I do hate you, Abraham. That is why I’ve decided to put an end to your existence.”

  The vamps were so close now I could smell their foul odor.

  “Great,” I said. “Is this the part where you explain to me your master plan?”

  Doctor Blood smiled with his sharp teeth and stood up. He reached in his pocket. I was sure he was going to pull out a bouquet of dead flowers like he’d done when he’d captured us at the cemetery, but he didn’t.

  Instead, in his hand, he held a dead dove.

  He threw it at me.

  I could hardly move so the corpse hit me square in the face. Anger rippled through me. I wanted to throw the bird back. Couldn’t.

  Doctor Blood thought that was hilarious. He doubled over with laughter.

  If I could’ve moved, I would’ve punched him in the face as hard as I could. Harder than I’d punched the ‘Stein. But I couldn’t move.

  “You think I have a plan?” Doctor Blood said. “I never have a plan. I just…go with the flow.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “You seem like you have a plan.”

  I noticed it was getting increasingly difficult to talk. My tongue felt swollen and my vocal cords ached. The Fang was doing this to me, I knew. I had to get rid of it somehow.

  Doctor Blood shrugged.

  “Sometimes I have a semblance of a plan. Like tonight. I did plan this. I have a very powerful friend in the Saber Corporation. She let me know about the ruckus your so-called Fright Squad was making amongst the monster community.”

  “Oh, you haven’t h-heard?” I asked.

  “I don’t exactly subscribe to The Daily Bite. I feel I’ve grown beyond such trivial things. I spend my time in a state of consciousness, in a state of being, your puny mind couldn’t begin to understand.”

  “You t-talk b-b-big for a guy who runs from losing fights.” I was trying to get a rise out of him. Rile him up like we’d riled up Xaluney back in Woodhaven.

  Doctor Blood walked right up to me. He was inches away. The man who’d killed my father, who’d attacked the NOD and injured Octavius, and I could hardly move a muscle in my body. I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to rip his face off. I wanted to stab him with the Fang.

  Couldn’t.

  “That is called strategy,” Doctor Blood said.<
br />
  “Yeah, like a plan,” I added.

  He snarled. “Whatever you call it, it is why I am still alive and your father isn’t. It’s why you won’t be, either.”

  “It was M-Marena Psydin, wasn’t it? That’s your friend,” I said. I knew it as soon as I met that wretched mermaid, and I never thought I could hate two people as much as I hated them at that moment.

  “Very clever, Abraham. What gave it away?”

  “Oh, I don’t k-k-know.” The words were really struggling to come out. I couldn’t feel my mouth. “The fact she t-tried t-t-to k-kuh-kill us with a b-b-b-b-b—” I couldn’t even finish that last word.

  “Yes, Marena is quite the firecracker, isn’t she? A body of a goddess and a brain like Einstein. She’ll prove very useful.”

  Majorly wrong on both observations. Didn’t waste my breath pointing that out.

  “For what?” I managed.

  “Well, for my bid as ruler,” Doctor Blood answered.

  There it was. There was his plan.

  “Yes, you didn’t think I’d travel all this way just to kill you, did you, Abraham?” Doctor Blood gave a little jig. The tails of his suit coat flapped, fanning around the smells of death and sick vampire that had made a permanent residence in my nostrils. “You’re hardly worth that, my friend. Killing you is just a bonus.”

  Even though he’d just said he was here to kill me. Can’t trust crazy people, I guess.

  He turned.

  I flexed my hand. Or at least I told my brain to tell my muscles to move.

  I got nothing.

  Not even a twitch. I was frozen solid.

  “I am here because all eyes are on the Monster Games. Such a savage competition. I don’t know why they would bring them back, but alas, I’m not on that little committee.” He paused, turned back around, that devilish grin on his face. “Then again, without these Games, my takeover would be a lot less…magical.”

  The vamps hadn’t moved. Pretty soon, the only muscle in my body that I had total control over were my eyes. They darted from corner to corner, judging the distance.