Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

Four armed guards were assigned to watch just him.

  Digger tried to relax as he was dried off and his hair was rinsed.

  A coiffeur began cutting, shaving the sides of his head and teasing and trimming the rest of his hair so it formed a ridge from front to back. Then the man tried to apply makeup. Digger waved him away.

  “It’s for the dramatic lighting,” the coiffeur said.

  Digger began to remove the cloth thrown around his neck. “I’m allergic.”

  The coiffeur gave one of the guards a pleading look.

  “Let him work or get thumped,” the guard growled.

  Digger sagged in his chair. The makeup work took longer than the rest of it.

  In the second seat, Paulus was getting his fingernails buffed. Then one of the women began to paint the nails black. Moment by moment, his fellow contestant was turning into a fierce monster before his eyes.

  By the time Digger was allowed to get up, he could only guess he appeared similar to Paulus.

  They weren’t returned to the holding room. Instead they were brought into a dark corridor and led down a ramp into a barred jail cell with benches. Six of the others were there already, similarly painted and preened into sinister greenskin monsters.

  A stack of weapons lay on the ground. Digger picked up an axe. It was made of wood but painted silver.

  “Fake.”

  “Yeah,” Paulus said. “Those are props for our showing. We don’t get the real thing until later, assuming we get any arms at all.”

  The comment caught the attention of the others. Digger selected the heaviest of the bunch, a faux longsword with a solid handle. After an hour they were all together again.

  A brightly dressed castle attendant appeared on the opposite side of the bars. “Okay, monsters! It’s almost time for your showing. Look fierce.” He took a moment to consult a notebook. “The game theme is the Nymph’s Grotto. You are her defenders. Imagine yourselves the last line of defense between your mistress and those who would steal from her and threaten her virtue.”

  “What?” the younger fel asked.

  “Act mean,” Paulus murmured. He picked up a fake axe.

  Moments later a line of tourists came down the hallway. They were dressed in fine suits and skimpy dresses. They giggled as they openly stared. Paulus surprised Digger when he roared and smashed his costume weapon against the bars. The men and women jumped and then laughed as he reached for them through the bars.

  “A spirited one!”

  One of the women scribbled a note on a page. Others did the same as they walked past and examined all of them.

  “Put on a good show,” Paulus whispered. “Don’t just stand there.”

  “What’s the difference? Either way we’re going to be thrown into the catacombs.”

  “They’re making odds right now. The better you look, the better chance we have of being placed somewhere where we get an advantage.”

  “Like what?”

  Paulus gestured with his axe. “Something with an edge. It’s the sad sacks who get put out front for the early stages.”

  Digger let out a bellow as the tourists flowed past but couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm as the older fel. All he could hope was that the sheriff had honored his promise and his brother would go free. He was doomed to play out this farce and didn’t want to waste energy he would soon need just so some purebloods could get a thrill from his demise.

  More groups of tourists came and went. Some made comments about their size and what would happen to them in just a few hours. Others chimed in on their favorites and who they were betting on. A few threw coins, or candy. One young woman flung a garter belt at Paulus, to the delight of her pack of friends.

  Paulus kept up his performance and didn’t comment as Digger fell silent. From down the corridor came the sounds of other prisoners, but these were pleading and crying. He realized they weren’t the only group of monsters. Judging by the scoffs and laughter of the tourists, these were scoring poorly.

  “Hey, greenskin, catch.”

  A woman leaned past Paulus and threw a wadded lacy handkerchief at Digger. It bounced off his face and landed on the floor. Digger lunged at her and caught her wrist. The woman was petite and wore an abundance of jewelry. And now she screamed. Digger yanked her against the bars and grabbed her throat. The other tourists were shouting. A guard got his hands through the bars and tried to pry Digger’s hands free. More guards entered the cell and Digger felt a hard rap on his head, followed by more blows as he was beaten down into a spinning haze.

  The woman, now free, was sobbing.

  “Grab that one,” a guard said.

  He was hauled to his feet and dragged out of the cell.

  “Where to?” a second guard asked.

  “Preliminary round. And hurry up. We start soon.”

  The world spun. But he managed to smirk. At least now they’d get it over with quicker.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE COOKS AND SERVANTS hustling about the castle’s kitchen bumped Angel aside anytime he got in the way. Perhaps they didn’t notice who he was. In their breakneck rush and with so many of them dressed in fancy attire above their station, it didn’t surprise him. Still, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t give some of them a thrashing later, but for now he was hungry.

  As he squeezed past a chef shucking oysters and others stirring steaming pots and working at the ovens, he wondered who else in the castle might be an assassin.

  If Red Eye couldn’t be appeased, it meant Angel would have to fight back. The thought unnerved him. Red Eye was one man, but he’d been proven to have a long reach.

  Angel snagged a meatball from a chafing dish. It scalded his tongue as he tried to chew. The cook who was working at the dish gave him a look but said nothing. Even bowed her head deferentially. At least someone in Diregloom knew their place.

  The preparations were for the banquet, which would be an ongoing parade of dishes for the mainland royalty here for the games. Even now there was a mass of visitors in the courtyard outside. These were here for the early viewing of the monsters. They would be milling past the kitchen windows in costumes or their Sunday best, wearing high hats, plumes, corsages, ruffles, and shining pieces of decorative armor. More than a few carried swords, mostly rapiers or foils. Some were contestants wanting a look at the opposition. Among them would also be the bookmakers who would be setting the odds, so even those not rich enough to buy a ticket could place a bet and listen to the news of how each round’s contestants performed.

  Angel could have been out there with them enjoying the party. He felt the tug in his heart at the thought of action. He had a good eye for a racehorse, so picking which fel was going to score the most hits on overconfident pureblood contestants would be a piece of cake.

  He shoved the urge aside.

  He was back at square one. Somehow he needed to earn enough coin to pay off his debt. He needed to find his companions, retrieve Marisol, and question the fel cook one last time before disposing of him. The gravedigger would see his end soon enough. That only left finding dear Sprite. Perhaps the sheriff knew something of her whereabouts. Then he could exact his own justice on her.

  A trumpet played a short trill outside. Round one of catacombs was about to begin. He wanted to be with his aunt during the games. Snatching a glass of sparkling wine from a tray, he headed into the banquet room.

  Claudia was there, along with Rochus and a few of the senior matrons who oversaw the staff. She was busy doling out orders as she inspected the lavish tables being set with dishes of food. She didn’t even glance at him as her procession passed him by.

  The trumpet signaled again.

  He fell in behind them and followed as they went out to the front courtyard and faced the crowd.

  A cheer went up. Aunt Claudia plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and waved.

  A bald servant with an earsplitting voice said, “Let the catacomb games begin!”

  The attendants waited until the o
vation died down before conducting the crowd towards the open maw and into the catacombs. Claudia continued waving until they were all filtering away. A roar from the entrance echoed through the courtyard and caused the crowds to hush. It was one of the carriage trolls from somewhere below. The spectators then broke out in laughter and howls.

  “My money’s on the troll!” a loud voice shouted.

  Angel would have bet against him. His aunt had always made sure the contestants had the upper hand. But would she risk one of her prize pets?

  The staff got their final orders and hurried off. His aunt brushed past him but he caught up to her.

  “Aunt Claudia, did you get any rest?”

  She looked at him for a moment, her expression impossible to read. “Just a little, dear. But there’s so much to do. The preliminary round is to start in twenty-two minutes. And then we have our first banquet.”

  “A moment of your time.”

  “I’m really quite busy.”

  Whatever affection he had rekindled the night before was gone. But with assassins out for his blood, he couldn’t put off talking to her.

  “I’ll be brief.”

  Rochus glared but didn’t say a word.

  Claudia motioned Angel to get on with his request. He cleared his throat. He wished he had her alone, but it wasn’t possible.

  “I need to borrow money.”

  She giggled. “You want a loan? After what you did?”

  “It was a mistake. I made up for it, didn’t I? The watch is back. Your game day is turning out to be a smash. I’ve never heard such a buzz. And all of these are ticket buyers.”

  “Hmm. The margin on this will be thinner than I’d like. The stone workers have never been cheap.”

  “I’ve got a few ideas that could help. We could do all the books ourselves, control the bets. It’s something I understand well. But right now I need a few coin to help clear up some final details of my trouble with getting the watch back.”

  Her face clouded over without ever losing the smile. Her eyes grew cold. She waved Rochus back and wandered to a banquet table. There she took a moment to adjust a silver serving spoon so it lined up with a set of forks.

  “I’m surprised to see you this morning,” she said.

  Angel was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I enjoyed hearing the tale of your adventure. It would have been a fine way to remember you.”

  “I don’t follow, Aunt Claudia.”

  “You got the watch back. But my plans are still lost to me. I’ve never been good at remembering details. That’s why I put them to writing. That page was worth more to me than any trinket. If only you had died with some dignity. It would have added spice to the day’s festivities.”

  He felt a chill in his gut. “There was an assassin in my room.”

  “So you got my little gift.”

  “You sent her?”

  “Imagine how it would have played out! A noble-born killed by a fel rogue in the heart of the castle. An escapee from the catacombs snuffs out a life in its prime. Imagine the horror, shock, and rage! I’ve met some of the contestants. Oh, but for the warriors of old who hunted wild fel in the deserts and mountains. But we have to settle for our sport. This would have stoked a furnace in the bellies of my contestants, something no prize can ever do.”

  “You...tried to kill me.”

  “You believed bringing the watch back would earn my good graces. Now we understand each other.”

  He remained stunned. Rochus stood nearby, perhaps close enough to hear. Also close enough to stop him if he tried to strangle the deranged woman in front of him.

  Angel dropped to his knees and grabbed a hand. Kissed it. “Please. What can I do to make it up to you?”

  She ripped her hand away. “I don’t know. What can you do?”

  “What if I can retrieve that paper? The gravedigger might know where it is. He’s here, in the catacombs.”

  “You don’t have much time. I guess you can enter as a contestant and find out. Finding my lost page would please me.”

  “It’s still the first round. I’ll talk to him. Maybe one of his friends has it.”

  But he saw he no longer had her attention. Rochus was signaling her. More servants had queued up for their instructions, along with a few guests. Her smile brightened as she went to welcome one of them with a hug. Angel almost didn’t recognize Viscount Ilario. Still wearing his austere suit, he had a ribbon on one wrist and the young boy on his arm.

  At least someone was having a good time.

  But then he saw waiting with them his older brother Jamie. Seeing him there didn’t make sense. Jamie—the soft-headed puppy who had fallen for his fel nursemaid. So why was his delicate sibling here?

  The answer was all too obvious when he saw the fancy rapier with the silver handle on his brother’s belt. He also wore a wide-guard dagger.

  Claudia gave Jamie a hug. “What a surprise! My steward mentioned your letter. Said you’d visit and that you wanted to be a contestant. How wonderful!”

  Jamie bowed and gave a dimpled grin, which waned ever so slightly when he made eye contact with Angel.

  “You see, Angel? Now you can enjoy the spectacle even more now that you have someone to root for. Oh, my sweet nephews, this will be so much fun. But Jamie, the games are starting and I’m sure you don’t want to be late. While we might not catch the first round of the preliminaries, I’m sure there’s time to see you inserted so you have a chance at winning. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

  “More than anything, Aunt Claudia,” Jamie said.

  “Then off you go. I’ll be cheering for you.”

  As his brother was ushered along by an attendant, Angel asked, “Have you spoken to her?”

  Jamie stopped in front of him, his mouth tight.

  “Your Sprite is here somewhere, brother. What do you hope to accomplish by entering the games? Hmm?”

  “Don’t call her that. You almost cost Isabel her life.”

  Angel shook his head. “Not me. You’re the one who expressed his love for a fel. And then Father did what Father does. By the way, does he even know you’re here? And how will Mother react when she learns her dearest has run off to fight in Aunt Claudia’s contest?”

  “I didn’t tell them.”

  “Of course you didn’t. Because Father would have stopped you. Can’t have both his boys running away to the decadence of Loom Island. But whereas he won’t even write me, he’ll send for you. And what will you do then?”

  “What I do doesn’t concern you.”

  “No? I’m your brother. Of course it concerns me. What prize here calls you? Gold? Is it fame? Is it making a name so you can try to openly declare your love to a greenskin?”

  When Jamie flinched, he knew he had hit paydirt.

  Angel gave a satisfied nod. “I guess all things are possible here. But the edict stands, even in Diregloom. But more importantly, how are you going to even find sweet Sprite when she’s gone missing?”

  “What did you do? Where is she?”

  “I’ve been asking that same question. Seems she’s gotten mixed up in some trouble. At least that’s what I’ve heard. But I’ll keep my ears open. Maybe I’ll find out before you have to go fight. But don’t let me stop you from stepping into the games.”

  Jamie looked as if he was ready to burst. But he never would. A weak retort would follow, or even better, tears. “You’re trying to trick me. I’m going to play in the games. I’m going to win. And then I’ll find Isabel and keep you and Father from her forever.”

  Angel applauded. “Then bravo. I too will cheer for you. Remember, the pointy end goes towards the monsters.”

  Jamie marched off with the attendant.

  Claudia stood at Angel’s side. “That sounded a bit cruel.”

  “I was hoping to talk him out of playing. He’s only an average swordsman. He lacks the stomach.”

  “A pity. He’ll have to take his chances, I suppose. So if w
e were to run his odds side by side with yours, who would the bookies favor?”

  Before he could ask her for clarification, she hastened away with Rochus. The games wouldn’t start without her.

  Angel dismissed the thoughts of his brother. Goading him had been a momentary distraction. He couldn’t help himself. But now he had to consider his next step.

  If Claudia had sent the assassin, it meant Red Eye wasn’t the threat Angel had believed. He had to find this page of hers. That piece of paper could be anywhere. It felt like he was back at the beginning. Isabel could have it, or the sheriff.

  But it all came back to the gravedigger.

  Angel had to speak with him before the games started. He still had the cook as prisoner to use as leverage. What was this piece of paper to the fel? There’d be no reason not to hand it over if it meant saving someone the gravedigger cared about.

  He made his way outside and headed for the demon’s mouth.

  Perhaps one of the monsters unwittingly held the key to Angel’s good fortune.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  DIGGER COULD HEAR THE crowds.

  He had been thrust into yet another cage, this one wrapped in a dark curtain. Three other prisoners huddled nearby. These hadn’t been preened and pampered as he and the others had been but instead reeked of sweat and their own filth.

  He tried to get their attention but none would even make eye contact. They were sullen and terrified, and why not? They were about to die for the pleasure of a bunch of noble purebloods.

  Sunlight shone in through a gap in the fabric, revealing a ramp leading up. Twisting decorative vines ran along the walls. He heard the echoes of people talking above, as if there was a second room looking out over the hallway beyond the curtain. The sounds only grew louder as the unseen gallery filled with spectators.

  Something roared. The crowd cheered. The monstrous growls diminished, but Digger concluded it had to be one of the queen’s trolls.

  He felt a moment of pity for the brainless creature.

  After a while a large group descended the ramp. Scores of spectators, some wearing masks and others elaborate makeup, came down into the hallway.