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“The basics. No stealing. No fighting in the common areas. If two people have an issue with each other, they can pound on each other in the practice arena.”
“Wait, your leaders actually encourage them to scrap?”
“When words fail, sometimes a good fisticuff can vent the frustration.”
“No thanks. Seems kind of middle school if you ask me.”
His lips quirked. “Only because you haven’t tried it.”
“Is this an invitation to bitch-slap you for being annoying?” I sweetly asked.
“Would you feel better if you did?”
My lips pursed. “Maybe.”
“Then perhaps we should arrange a meeting time for you to expel your annoyance, but don’t be surprised if I put you over my knee because of your stubbornness.”
The statement had my mouth rounding. “You can’t spank me. I’m an adult.”
“Then act like one.”
Burn.
Rather than keep arguing, I changed the subject. “How do you get food and other supplies?”
“There is a garden at the rear, along with a barn and paddocks for livestock. Everything we can’t make or grow is brought through the portal.”
“I am not churning milk to make butter.”
“Why would you when we have machines to do it?”
“You have electricity?” I couldn’t help my surprise.
“Solar panels provide some of it. The rest is via a generator run off a pocket of natural gas we tapped into. And before you ask, we also have plumbing instead of buckets or latrines.”
“Well, shit.” I had to admit to being impressed. The place was less primitive than expected.
We’d reached the top of the slope, and only then did I notice the barren strip of land running around the place, the demarcation between green grass and dirt quite stark. “What’s that?” I pointed. “Is it a running track or something?”
“That is not a place to step on,” he cautioned. “The Ring is part of the castle’s security. There are pits and spikes that will trigger if you put any weight on that area.”
“What happens when a squirrel decides to pay a visit?”
“Their size isn’t enough to enact the defenses. Given demons start at fifty pounds, the pressure point is forty.”
“I thought you said this place was safe.” I couldn’t help but sound accusatory.
“It is. The only time I’ve seen them activated was when a reaper called Killian got drunk and wandered off for a piss.”
“Did he die?” I asked.
“No, but he has a hell of a scar on his thigh where a spike speared through it.”
“If I can see it, can’t they?” I pointed out the obvious flaw with their defense.
“Demons tend to be one-track-minded. They see their prey or target and tend to move in a straight line, heedless of their environment.”
“So you’re counting on them being dumb. Got it.” And even less reassured. What if a smart demon figured it out?
