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“Such as?” Beranabus asks tightly.
Lord Loss frowns thoughtfully, but it’s a deceptive frown — he knows exactly what he’s going to ask for. “There is no point in your promising not to kill Cadaver, since it is a promise you cannot guarantee. If I gave him to you, it would have to be unconditionally.”
“That suits me fine,” Beranabus growls.
Cadaver gets to his feet, trembling with rage and fear. Lord Loss ignores him.
“A life for a life,” the demon master whispers. “I will give you Cadaver if you give me one of your followers.”
“Which one?” Beranabus asks without blinking. Shark, Sharmila, Dervish and I gape at him, unable to believe that he’d sacrifice one of us so casually.
“The choice would be mine,” Lord Loss murmurs. “All I guarantee is that it won’t be you. Otherwise, no deal, and I’ll unleash my familiars immediately, with orders to slaughter you all.”
Beranabus looks around at us. His gaze is steady, but there’s a slight tremble in his left hand, the only sign that he’s not as calm as he seems. Shark returns the stare honestly — he’s ready to die if the choice goes against him. But Sharmila, Dervish and I look away. Not that it matters whether we agree or not — the choice is Beranabus’s, not ours.
Nadia has stopped chanting. She’s sneering at Beranabus. “Go on,” she says witheringly. “Don’t pretend there’s any doubt. Sell us out. It’s what you’re good at.”
An angry red rash rises up Beranabus’s neck, but he doesn’t respond. Instead he casts an eye over the demon-encrusted walls. “Agreed!” he says abruptly.
Lord Loss laughs and extends a hand towards us. “Eeny . . . meeny... miny...”
“Such games belittle you!” Beranabus barks. “Choose!”
“Very well.” Lord Loss’s hand points at me. Vomit creeps up my throat. I see the end coming, perishing in this horrible universe, far from home. I prepare myself to run, even though I know it’s hopeless.
But then the hand moves on and settles on its real target — Nadia!
“Hah!” she shouts at Beranabus, all of her contempt for him contained in that one small sound.
Then she shoots across the room. Lord Loss grabs her out of
the air. Wraps all eight arms around her. I see her eyes snap tight, her lips close, her face scrunch up with fear. There’s a blinding flash of light. I cover my eyes with an arm until the glow fades. When I look again, Lord Loss is covered in blood, bits of flesh, and shards of bone and hair — all that’s left of poor, pockmarked Nadia Moore.
THE CHALLENGE
ICAN’T believe it happened. I know it must have — the evidence is splattered all over Lord Loss and his arachnid throne — but still I can’t believe it. Nadia can’t be dead, not so suddenly, so bloodily. Surely even this warped universe of horrors can’t be that cruel.
While my brain’s whirring, Cadaver shrieks and tosses Art at Lord Loss, then makes a break for freedom, racing to a wall which has slightly less demons on it than the others, scuttling towards a window.
Lord Loss catches Art smoothly and cradles him to his chest, keeping him clear of the hole where the snakes are slithering over and under each other. Art laughs, undisturbed. Lord Loss whistles to the demons on the wall. They surge around the window, blocking it, driving Cadaver back.
The demon momentarily thinks about fighting, then releases his grip and drops to the floor. In a crouch, he lets the hairs on his arms grow to their fullest length, glares at Lord Loss and waits for the demon master to make the next move.
Lord Loss chuckles at Art or Cadaver, I’m not sure which. Then he says something twisted — it must be a demon language. Cadaver falls to the floor, writhing and hissing. He rolls around, scratching at his throat and face. The demons on the walls laugh and screech at him.
Then, over the sounds of the demons, comes a strangely mixed cry of fear and delight. Cadaver stops struggling and sits up. The cry comes again, and this time I realize it comes from Cadaver. He’s been altered. He has a mouth.
“I have honored my end of the bargain,” Lord Loss says. Cadaver screams unintelligibly in response. “Such language,” Lord Loss tuts. “I am glad most of my guests are not able to understand you, or their ears would sizzle. I apologize, Beranabus. Such curses should not be uttered even in this universe.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Beranabus says. “Usually from demons I’m about to kill.” Cadaver goes silent and shifts his attention to Beranabus, eyeing him suspiciously. Beranabus smiles icily. “Don’t worry. If you answer my questions honestly — and that should be much easier now you have a mouth — I won’t kill you. My advice is to come quietly. Fight if you wish, but without Lord Loss to protect you, we both know you can’t win.”
Cadaver bristles and looks at Lord Loss. He says something low and pleading. Lord Loss shakes his head. “No. I vowed to give you a mouth and voice, and promised to protect you until that time. I have acted in good faith. I owe you nothing more.”
Cadaver sneers, then spits on the floor, putting his new mouth to good use. Facing Beranabus, he retracts his hairs and marches towards him with pride, offering himself to the magician, hateful but resigned. When Cadaver is by his side, Beranabus raises an eyebrow at Lord Loss.
“Go,” the demon master says, waving at the demons around the door, who part at his command. He’s smiling. His eyes flicker down at Art, then up at me. He knows this isn’t over, that there’s more miserable pleasure to be had.
Beranabus starts towards the door.
