Page 64 of Gladiator Moon

“You will have to do better than that, Samantha Moon!”

Devil Killer or not, there is no way I can match the Dark One’s raw physical strength. Not down here on the floor or in the air where I can’t find any purchase. The bastard stands between me and the rotating meatball floating above him. Grr. Pretty sure if I tried to fly around him, I would meet a similar fate, splat! against a far wall, or onto the floor.

With these grim thoughts in mind, Baltazar suddenly appears just behind the Dark One, floating in the air, cross-legged, looking like a very emaciated genie from Aladdin. All that is missing is a magic carpet. The wizard smiles at me, nods, then gives me two enthusiastic thumbs up. Considering his longish head hasn’t caught fire, I’m thinking the teleportation spell really has been broken, unless Baltazar is immune to it.

I know he can teleport. He told me as much. Had he just teleported? Or is this some kind of trickery? An illusion, perhaps? Either way, I do not think I can beat the Dark One one-on-one. The devil in my world had not grown so big or been so physically powerful, and he certainly hadn’t wielded a sequoia-sized sword.

And so, I take in some air and, knowing I might very well receive the mother of all headaches, I summon the single flame. It appears instantly, as if waiting for this very moment. With the devil’s massive sword now screaming toward my head, I see within the flame the spot just next to the hovering, pulsating orb. I move toward the flame, even as it races toward me.

And make the leap.

Chapter Thirty-one

I reappear next to the spinning meat orb.

A bellow of anger erupts from deeper in the chamber as the Dark One saw me disappear or saw Baltazar’s sudden appearance. No doubt, the devil knew where I had gone to and what I was up to. Either way, I needed to act quickly before he turned the air into magma or something. Meanwhile, the dark orb was far uglier up close than I would have believed, covered in crepe skin and hundreds of thick pulsating red veins that reminded me of glowing snakes. The beating sounds were louder up here—thunderously loud, in fact.

“No!” booms the Dark One’s voice from seemingly everywhere. “I’m not ready to die!”

I hesitate, which would have been a mistake had I done so even a beat longer. Already, the air shimmers around me with the beginnings of another crazy attack, likely another legion of demons.

Is it really my place to kill this thing? I consider the question for all of a nanosecond. Technically, the Dark One isn’t my problem, though he certainly made himself my problem when he had me kidnapped. And a growing part of me suspects I was sought out for this very reason. I was exactly the right person to wield the Devil Killer, having wielded another version of it back on my own world. Pretty sure I’ve been manipulated from the beginning.

Still, I don’t agree with the ruthless way these Games are conducted. And haven’t I already killed, like, a bajillion demons? What’s one more bad guy?

Besides, the Devil Killer wants him dead. I swear the sword is pulling me toward the Dark One’s beating heart.

Yeah. Enough is enough.

This is for the next mom torn from her family. The next person kidnapped from another world and forced to kill for someone else’s entertainment. Someone who doesn’t have access to a Devil Killer. Someone who won’t be able to fight her way home.

I beat my wings hard before the creatures forming around me can fully take shape. Holding the Devil Killer before me like a knight lowering his lance, I dive headfirst toward the giant heart.

The tip of the blade pierces the outer shell of what looks like a thick, leathery membrane. The blade sinks perhaps six inches before refusing to go any farther. I blink, confused. What could stop the Devil Killer? Was this not the Dark One’s heart?

The ‘heart’ contracts violently around the sword. I grunt as I tighten both hands around the hilt. It feels as though the weapon has suddenly become embedded in solid rock. I pull once. Nothing. I pull again with all my strength. The Devil Killer doesn’t move so much as a fraction of an inch.

The heart continues beating, louder than ever. Every thunderous beat slams through me like a giant’s fist, rattling my bones and making my vision blur. The immense black heart convulses beneath me, its thick crimson veins swelling until they now resemble tree saplings.

The Dark One’s voice echoes everywhere: “No!”

Except this isn’t going in as easy as I thought it would. There was no puff of black smoke like with his demons or bats or tentacles. This heart was resisting, fighting for its life.

Around me, the chamber suddenly lurches. The floor buckles far below. The walls crumble. Great chunks fall from the ceiling, narrowly missing me. More black hands burst from every surface at once, clawing at me. Tendrils whip down through the air. The demon birds return in a frenzy, diving from every shadow with screeches of pure fury.

The Devil Killer, now radiating angel light along the blade, inches deeper into the pulsating black flesh. Suddenly, the glow along blade intensifies as the light pumps directly into the dark heart. Soon, it spreads outward from the wound in thin, irradiate veins.

At first, there are only a few such veins. Then dozens. Then hundreds.

White-gold energy races away from the black heart and outward into the surrounding chamber, following pathways I hadn’t known were there. Walls illuminate. Tendrils blaze. Even the bucking floor beneath me pulses with brilliant light, as though angel fire has entered the Dark One’s bloodstream and is spreading through every part of him. Which I have no doubt it has.

The Dark One roars. This time, there’s no mistaking it. He’s in agony.

“I made this place!” he cries out from everywhere. “I shaped every stone! Every creature beyond these walls bows before my will!”

“That’s the problem,” I say, straining to shove the sword even deeper. I plant both my Reeboks against the pulsing surface and flap my wings hard, driving the sword in even deeper. Finally, the Devil Killer moves. This time, all the way to the handle.

The Dark One screams, his cry filling the crumbling space completely, coming from everywhere at once. No longer does he sound like an all-powerful ruler of the Underworld. He sounds ancient and tired. And frightened.