Page 49 of Gladiator Moon

“Take me to your master,” I say, shaking it as I haul it up to its feet.

The demon shudders. “He lives below, mistress. Deep below. His palace lies beneath the arena.”

“Where he consumes the blood of the fallen.”

“Yes, but not just the fallen. Any and all blood is captured and funneled to him.”

“You serve him?”

“He made me to serve him.”

That tracks. The devil in my realm created his demons, as well. “Take me to him.”

“First we must travel past the fires, the cells, the pits, and past the Hall of Champions.”

Yeah, not terribly different than the Greek underworld, and probably the Christian Hell, too, which I have technically not visited. Yet. Then again, we will see what J.R. Rain has in store for me in future adventures. That is, of course, if I am to survive this one.

“What Hall?” I ask.

“The champions he consumed. He keeps their weapons and their heads.”

“He fights them?”

“In his way, yes. The winners have one final fight, down in his chamber, where they invariably lose to my master.”

I nod toward the door. “Lead the way, dipshit.”

“How did you know my name?”

“Lucky guess. Go on.”

The demon lumbers forward, cradling his damaged wrist against his side. Azul joins me, while the prince trails behind as commanded. We leave the armory and emerge onto a long, covered walkway that runs parallel to the arena, its high roof supported by thick stone columns. Open arches along one side give me glimpses of the massive stadium beyond, while a succession of doors and darkened passages line the other.

The demon leads us along the walkway until we reach a narrow set of back stairs, where we begin our descent into the bowels of the arena. Lower and lower we go, until the light from above disappears completely and there is only the sound of dripping water and not-so-distant screams. Eventually, the passage widens into a broad underground corridor, dark and damp and terribly familiar.

Yup, I have seen something similar in the Greek Underworld. Guess not a lot of imagination goes into designing hellscapes.

Shortly, enormous iron doors materialize before us, easily thirty feet tall and covered in creepy etchings that seem to move whenever I look away. Demons mill before them. More demons than I have ever seen gathered in one place. No way I can cut through them all. I would need ten of me. Hell, fifty of me.

“He’s waiting for you inside, stupid human,” says my guide.

“What are all those demons doing?” I ask.

“Waiting for his appearance. Once each day, he allows us to bask in his unholy presence. May I go wait with my brothers and sisters?”

“You may.”

He lumbers off, reminding me of a gorilla barreling across the uneven ground.

I chuckle, adjust my grip on Azul and Pickles, and leap up onto my wings.

Chapter Twenty

As I hover thirty or forty feet above the tallest of the demons, I realize I need a plan. I say as much.

“You’re just realizing that now, vampire?” asks Azul. “We’re doomed!”

“Oh, shut up. Give me the layout down here. Are we in your world’s version of Hell?” I give him a quick mental snapshot of what I understand Hell back on Earth to look like.