by Lori Adams
Chapter 24
Something Evil This Way Flounces
Rama is talking but I can’t absorb any more. I am numb. Feeling very much like a pathological fool.
Why didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t I remember Lovaria’s quiet determination, that clever inner strength she concealed from others? She was always plotting ways to get what she wanted. And I have, inadvertently, provided a body for her to thrive in.
No one who truly knew her would ever say she was evil, just someone who lived by her emotions. By her undying love for Dante. Is it possible that she has been patiently lying dormant all these years, waiting for her moment to rise again? To join him in this bizarre afterlife? She has acclimated to Hell so smoothly that I’m led to believe that Lovaria has been as determined as Dante.
Everything is sideways in my head and I don’t know if I should reach for her or run from her.
“Hey, wahine!” Rama catches up with me, bringing me out of my trance. He asks if I’ve found her so I point and we look. The initial shock has dissipated somewhat and I now see that Dante is beside her, clutching her hand possessively. He is so handsome in his dark, formal suit. So mysterious behind the black mask. I can only assume that their costumed cohorts are Vaughn and Isatou.
“Too many guards,” Rama murmurs, and I notice the four bodyguards in their skull helmets hovering behind them. Degan was right; they are massive and all too attentive. I want to tell Rama that things have gone from worse to catastrophic but the music abruptly stops and a loud gong captures everybody’s attention.
The crowd swivels toward the front where an altar should be. It’s a raised dais instead, lined with chunky marble thrones that hold the masked members of The Order. The throne in the middle is slightly higher than the others, and the man sitting there is raising a heavily jeweled hand for attention. He, like the others on the dais, is wearing a regal purple cloak, hood, and red eye mask. His hood is trimmed with a wide gold band, marking his importance over the others. All in all, they are a pathetic display that mocks some religious or holy sect in their robes and rosary necklaces with inverted crosses. It’s obscene and insulting but I’m sure Rama and I are the only ones offended.
I feel Degan at my elbow, whispering, “That’s Lord Malachi in the center. Remember from the Games? He’s team Dante and has unseated Lord Brutus.” My eyes slide along the purple robes and land on the red eye mask that partially hides an ashen face and crusty lips. Lord Brutus. The name sets my blood boiling all over again.
Lord Malachi stands, gathers everyone’s attention, and starts the ceremony with a loud announcement. “Tonight, we begin our grand tradition by welcoming our lone survivor of the Demonic Games: Reptilious Septimus!” The creature with the reptilian Mohawk down his back steps before the dais and faces the crowd. He wears a crown of bones and dead flowers, and punches the air with his fists, snarling like a beast. The cavern breaks into wild cheers. More dead flowers and tiny bones are tossed at his feet. The evil he radiates is tangible, and I wonder if he is really Wolfgang underneath it all. Wolfgang’s lust for blood might not have kept him from entering the games this year, especially if he can change into any form he wants.
After vowing to keep an eye on lizard man, I shift my attention back to Lovaria and Dante. He is methodically scoping out the area and I have to duck behind some sheik in a long dark robe and horned mask when his eyes sweep over me. Dante is being vigilant; he’s worried about something. When I peer around the sheik, I see the four skull-faced guards herding away any creatures that get too close to Lovaria. Everyone is kept at arm’s length. It surprises me that Dante would feel the need for protection beyond himself. His ego would hardly allow it. Unless he thinks she is in danger. Or worse, he suspects that Lovaria is not the real me, the one experiencing an Awakening. Is it possible that Dante has figured things out? Could he know that I’m here to get her?
When the glorification of Reptilious Septimus dies down, the crowd parts in a wide circle as though anticipating what comes next. I clutch Rama and Degan as we are forced to shuffle backward. “Don’t lose sight of them!” I wail, trying to keep an eye on Lovaria and Dante. Their guards are clearing room for them to move back. They eventually stop along the right edge of the dais. We are at the left edge, directly across from them in the wide circle.
Lord Malachi returns to the High Throne. Music begins and it’s some obscene melody disguised as a Viennese waltz. I am happy to report that no music sounds pleasant in Hell.
Several couples that have been left standing in the center of the wide circle begin to dance. It’s not clear why they are singled out. Or why the ape-faced creatures hastily place fresh tall candelabras all throughout the dance floor.
The couples begin to twirl about, picking up speed while everyone watches. The heightened anticipation of the crowd is unmistakable, the rasped breathing behind their masks, the subtle shift as they lean forward, the eyes flickering and tracking the dancers. I reconsider the couples with a closer look. There are five altogether, dressed in exaggerated costumes, dripping heavily with sparkling jewels. The men have shiny black hair, slick as though coated with something. It drips in gooey patches down their black, embellished tuxedos. I hadn’t noticed before but all the women have long, pale hair, dry and brittle like wheat hanging down their backs. The couples don’t wear masks like the rest of us but beautiful, jeweled blindfolds. Aside from all that, their dancing is subpar, kind of timid and clumsy.
“I don’t get it,” I murmur to Degan. “What’s so special about them?”
“Oh, it’s the Bonfire of the Vanities,” he says softly. “Or as some like to call it, the Flax and Pitch salsa. Just watch.” I tell him I don’t want to “just watch.” I need to sneak around the edge of things and approach Ka while everyone is distracted. Degan squeezes my arm, his eyes turning hard beneath the court jester mask. He leans into my face, whispering aggressively. “You make a move now and it’s over! This is the first intrigue; everybody watches! If you don’t, you’ll draw suspicion! You’ve trusted me this far, so don’t stop now!”
My heart is pounding. I don’t like his vicious tone and I want out of here as fast as possible. I throw a quick look around and see that he’s right. Even Dante and Lovaria are captivated. No one is moving; no one is talking. I jerk my arm free and wait as patiently as I can.
Dancing blind, a couple inevitably bumps into a flaming candelabra. The bloody candles tip over, setting the dancers on fire. Covered in flax and pitch, they burst into flames to the delight of the crowd. Cheers explode. Then another couple is set on fire. Like a domino effect, they all knock into the candelabras and burst into raging fires. This is what the horde has been eagerly awaiting, the entertainment of torture. The Bonfire of the Vanities.
The shrieks of the dancers are beyond belief, and I wrench away, too disgusted to watch. The smell of burning flesh mixes heavily with the cinnamon toxin, making my stomach curl. I cover my mouth. Degan twists me back around, growling that I am drawing attention. Rama slides an arm around me, his comforting voice telling me to focus on something else. Anything else until it’s over.
Tears from the smoke make it hard to see but I do my best. After a long, gruesome moment, the fires burn out and all that remains are misshapen clumps of ashes that once were bodies. That’s when madness descends. Dozens upon dozens of lesser demons, reapers, and soul seekers rush through the crowd, eager to get to the dance floor. They drop to their knees and plunge their hands into the ashes. Like children starving for something they’ve been denied, they laugh and play and coat their clothes and skin with ashes. They rip off their masks and cover their hair and faces until only their eyes remain untouched. They howl and revel in their own wickedness. Lord Malachi, along with most of The Order members, is laughing and enjoying the sickening tradition. Lord Brutus shows no pleasure in the revelry; his beady eyes hard beneath his eye mask, and his lips flat against yellowed teeth.
“It’s almost over,” Degan whispers as the next pa
rt unfolds. As is custom, those coated with ashes beg the game winner to come forward. Reptilious Septimus returns. He spreads his arms and allows himself to be wiped with ashes. After a proper coating, he shows himself to the crowd in a grand display. He laps up the glorification, walking around the circle with his arms out and fangs bared. Those covered with ash follow behind him and join in his chant, “We who devour the ashes await yours!”
A deafening cry of cheers reverberates throughout the cavern. Reptilious Septimus marches through the packed nave, repeating the chant with his ashen followers in tow. They disappear from view while the ape-face creatures swoop in to remove the overturned candelabras. Within moments, the wide circle before the dais is clean and vacant.
Lord Malachi calls attention simply by standing up. “Before we continue with our usual tradition, The Order would like to make an announcement. As many of you may have heard, Demon Knight Dante has done the impossible—lured a prospering spirit walker into our very own kingdom!” He pauses dramatically to glory in the riot of cheers as though he, instead of Dante, had achieved such a remarkable feat. Then, laughing and hushing the masses, Lord Malachi orders Dante to step forward.
Murmurs ripple among the guests. I hold my breath and watch Dante guide Lovaria into the center of the wide circle. They come to stand directly before The Order, and I have a clear view of their faces. Behind them, their guards shift to the edge of the dance floor, staying within easy reach.
“Of course, I could not let this extraordinary achievement go unrecognized,” Lord Malachi says, laying a hand to his chest and tilting his head respectfully. “And so, I, as well as all members of The Order, have agreed to elevate Dante within our noble ranks. Our Demon Knight of the Royal Court of Bastards is now our Principe from the House Dannoso serving the Royal Court and all in the fifth kingdom!” Another wave of cheers and applause explodes. Some whistle and shout “Grandine al nostro principe!” The mob is elated to have a future spirit walker in their kingdom and only too happy to reward their very own Demon Knight.
Unfortunately, the jubilation is short lived.
Lord Brutus pushes himself up from his marble throne, a single act that cuts through the noise like a knife. Within mere moments, the cavern is as quiet as a tomb.
“I protest!” he sneers. He points a gnarled finger at Dante and spits out his accusation. “He is a false knight and no member of the House of Dannoso!”
“What fool, you old man!” Lord Malachi barks. “You have no say in this! The vote has been taken! Sit down!”
“We shall have no false nobles answering to The Order!” Lord Brutus shouts back.
“You are the only false noble!” Lord Malachi charges. It’s an empty allegation born out of a long-suffering hate for the old man and fear of losing his place on the High Throne. Beside him, Lord Sultar demands that Lord Brutus be allowed to speak.
“All accusations must be heard,” he states. “If the Demon Knight is false, we have a right to know.”
The Order members start grumbling to each other. The crowd follows suit. This is most unusual and they don’t know what to make of it. Dante has gone rigid but his eyes are frantic behind his mask.
“I have nothing to hide!” he says. The Order members stop their grousing and turn back to him.
“Nothing to hide?” Lord Brutus mocks. “You are an imposter. A false knight under a false name! You, Demon Knight Dante, belong to the House of Montecchi…of the third kingdom.” Audible gasps burst from the stunned audience. I don’t understand the importance of the accusation, so Degan explains that any noble from a neighboring kingdom that has not been formally invited into another kingdom by way of The Order is considered a spy. So basically Dante is being accused of treason against the Royal Court of Bastards.
This is bad. Really bad.
Strangely enough, Dante looks unmoved. His confidence is undeniable and acts as a soothing balm that calms his voice. He smiles that patient smile I know so well. “My lords, as I said, I have nothing to hide. It is true that I have taken the name Dannoso in place of Montecchi.” He has to pause here because his statement sparks grumblings from the crowd. Many already feel duped. He lifts a hand for quiet. “I have long severed my ties to the House of Montecchi. As you all know, I have been in the fifth kingdom since I arrived in Hell. That fact is beyond reproach. I have never had ties to the third kingdom—”
“The third kingdom that is all but ruled by the House of Montecchi!” Lord Brutus interrupts. His pale face trembles with rage and his cracked lips seep black blood. He moves along the dais, adding fuel to a simmering fire by shouting accusations and flailing his arms. He is working the mob into a frenzy. “Who knows how long you have betrayed our Royal Court of Bastards. Sharing our secrets and selling our hard-earned souls to our enemies! How many death contracts have you bargained away to the third kingdom? To your own House?” He points at Dante. “As a member of The Order, I have taken it upon myself to sell you back to your family, Demon Knight Dante. You now belong to your father, Lord Giano Montecchi.”
I see a shudder run through Dante. I hear a gasp from Lovaria. She swings around, clutching his hand, her eyes frantically searching his but Dante won’t look at her. He is glaring at Lord Brutus and seething with controlled fury. The old man smiles cruelly and then gestures to someone beyond them in the crowd. There is confusion among the masses but they eventually part and reveal a man in a dark cloak and hood. He walks up the aisle, tall and defiant, carrying himself with the air of high aristocracy. Setting his hood back, he reveals himself, and my memories spin back in time, rapid frames clicking through a camera lens. I recognize that unbending stature, those dark eyes flashing beneath the black eye mask. A sharp widow’s peak of salt-and-pepper hair matches a trim gray beard outlining his narrow jaw. Dante’s father, Lord Giano.
The four guards that have protected Lovaria form a half circle behind Lord Giano, making it clear that their allegiance lies not with Dante but with his father. Lord Giano must have wanted to ensure his son’s safety before and during the ball. It isn’t Lovaria they have been safeguarding, but Dante.
Lord Giano stands apart from his son and Lovaria. Dante has yet to acknowledge him, keeping his eyes focused ahead. Lovaria is visibly shaken. She continues to clutch Dante’s hand while her eyes jump from Dante to Lord Giano to Lord Malachi. She can hardly understand what’s happening. And she’s not the only one.
Lord Brutus makes the introductions to The Oder. “I present, Lord Giano Montecchi of the third kingdom.”
Dante’s father gives a stiff, formal bow. “I am Lord Giano, father of this man, Dante Montecchi, who rightfully belongs in the third kingdom.” Like his son, his voice is calm and respectful.
Lord Malachi’s face turns red around his mask. Ignoring Lord Giano, he glares at Lord Brutus. “You have brought a noble from the third kingdom here without my consent! I sit on the High Throne! Not you! I can have you sent to the Nether Region for this!”
Lord Brutus is unfazed. He goes on to explain that he had worked his deal with Lord Giano while still residing on the High Throne. He did not need permission from Lord Malachi, or any members of The Order. Lord Giano simply wants his son back. A fair bargain has been made and Dante, although he was due to wed tonight, will return to his father’s care. Alone.
While members of The Order bend their heads and whisper, Lord Malachi considers things on his own, his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes narrow behind his mask and shift from Lord Brutus to Dante.
Silent but tightly coiled, I wonder how much longer Dante can contain his rage. He has worked too hard and too long for this; how can he possibly let it slip away now?
After what feels like hours, Lord Malachi seems to settle things in his mind and returns to his seat on the High Throne. He has a stubborn attitude, as though he hasn’t just been outwitted by Lord Brutus.
“Explain the terms of this bargain,” he demands with open arrogance.
“Straightforward enough,” Lord Brutu
s replies, his voice rough as gravel. “Dante goes with Lord Giano and his men back to the third kingdom. Never to return. The spirit walker, Sophia, remains here. Even trade.”
“Even trade?” Lord Malachi echoes, his eyebrows rising above his eye mask. “You cannot bargain to keep something we already have.” He glances at the other members to gauge their similar reactions. “The spirit walker is ours. She is not part of the bargain.”
Lovaria looks up at Dante, her eyes erratic behind her golden mask. “Dante! Do something!” she begs. Dante’s chin goes up but still, he remains silent, almost resolute in allowing them to finalize their terms before he puts a stop to it all.
“Lord Brutus,” Lord Malachi continues, “you alone have brokered this deal. Not in the name of the Royal Court or The Order but plainly for your own reasons. As far as I am concerned, you have not proven that our Demon Knight has betrayed us. You have not proven anything but your desire to have him banished from our kingdom. We have just elevated his stature here. We plan to wed him to our beautiful treasure, Sophia, and to secure them both in our Royal Court. And you would have us give up our principe and principessa…on a whim?” Lord Malachi scoffs and plays it up as though he is appalled at the very idea.
Lord Brutus looks to the other members to back him. Even those who once sided with him remain silent. It seems that Lord Malachi has proven his case.
“What do you want?” the old man snarls, and Lord Malachi lowers his chin, placing his adversary in check.
“Make me an offer.”
Lord Brutus twitches with irritation. The crowd presses closer, eager for his answer. But the old man is thrown off his game. He has nothing to offer; the bargain will collapse and he will most likely be punished for his reckless behavior.