The Infernal Games

by Reed Logan Westgate

  “You invited a demon into the city,” he countered. “You made a pact and broke it. You are nothing now but a filthy infernal whore. A plaything that will be twisted and warped until you’re just as vile as your master.”

  “You’re a fool,” Xlina spat back. “I didn’t bring it here; it brought me here, you slack-jawed yokel hick.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he panted, steadying himself. “In the end, you’ll be willing to do anything to relieve yourself of that mark.”

  “So you’re going to kill me for my own good?” Xlina countered sarcastically. “My hero.”

  He started forward, then pulled up, accurately predicting her parry and using that moment to again strike out with another thrust kick. She was ready this time, raising her lead leg and parrying the kick with a swipe of her knee, pushing his blow to her right side and bringing him to land with her slightly to his left in perfect position for a counterattack. Her right hook came in strong and fast; with his left arm shattered, it was a clear shot to his face with an unnatural crack that sent his head back violently as his nose splattered across his face. His legs went weak as he wobbled from the impact under his own weight. He collapsed straight down in a crumpled mess, rolling on the ground and struggling to get his bearings.

  “Nice moves,” Amber called, mimicking the strike with an imaginary opponent before smiling and holding up her fingers in a peace symbol.

  “Alright, scumbucket,” Xlina said, stepping over the downed man and dropping a knee heavily into his chest. She raised her first and stared him in the eyes coldly. “Talk or fight?”

  “Xlina!” came Amber’s frantic call from down the alley. Xlina looked up to see another man, this one much larger, a burly six-foot, three-inch mountain of a man grabbing Amber around the waist with one arm and batting aside her flailing arms with another. She lunged forward, but the mook on the ground grabbed hold of her ankle with his good arm, clenching as if his very life depended on it.

  “Hands off the goods,” Xlina snarled with a heavy stomp on the downed man’s head from her free foot. Three more stomps followed before the grip finally loosened and the man lay still on the ground. She looked up to see the burly man lifting Amber to his shoulder. She started to scream but noticed the Mist at the end of the alley. She could no longer see the street beyond and knew that no one beyond the Mist would answer her calls. “Let her go!”

  “Aww.” The brute smiled with crooked teeth; his glamor shimmered, revealing reptilian skin with bright yellow eyes and sharp teeth. “I have your attention, do I?”

  “Don’t hurt her,” Xlina called, raising her hands in defeat. “I’ll give up; just don’t hurt her.”

  “Xlina, don’t,” Amber protested, striking at the massive reptilian man. His skin showed a dense greenish scale against a very tightly stretched black t-shirt. He casually tossed her to the ground before him like a sack of dirty laundry.

  “Sssssshut it, girl, and you might live out the day,” he snarled.

  “But you won’t,” came the familiar sound of Oxivius’ voice from above. All eyes darted up to see the well-dressed Oxivius perched on a fire escape two floors above ground level. His hands were already tracing a dark sigil in the air. Xlina’s stomach developed the same pit-like feeling as that day with the cephalopod. The call of death dripped in the air as he lunged his hand through the sigil forcefully. The sigil burst into a black, inky haze, and a long bone shard burst from just beyond his thrusting hand like a javelin. It flew impossibly fast, piercing the brute through the abdomen and diagonally down into the pavement, pinning him like a piece of beef on a skewer.

  Seizing the opportunity, Xlina vaulted forward, springing over the downed Amber and reaching out, her hands aglow with nightmare energy. She found purchase on either side of the brute’s head as he brought his hands up to grab hers by the wrists, but his strength faltered as if the bone spear sucked the strength from him. His reptilian skin cracked and burned from her nightmare energy, and he growled in pain. With a sharp twist, she focused all her strength, spinning his head until she was no longer looking into his eyes but at the back of his head. Stepping back, she shuddered as she released the last of her energy and let the thing’s death wash over her.

  “Amber,” she said. “Don’t look.”

  “What is it?” Amber replied, scurrying to her feet and poking at the brutish lizard.

  “It’s a man,” Oxivius called, descending down the fire escape and dropping to ground level. “Horrible mistake summoning the Mist; he used his Wiccan magic to shape change into that lizard hybrid, but it allowed for me to sling a spell of my own.”

  “This is magic,” Amber replied in awe, looking at the bone projectile and reaching out in curiosity.

  “Don’t touch, petite,” Oxivius cautioned. “The bone spur saps your vitality. Now if you excuse me, I need to get some answers from your playmate on the ground.”

  “I think he’s past that point, Ox,” Xlina said, looking at the busted face of the man in the suit.

  “Not for me,” Oxivius replied coolly, crouching over the body. “You don’t want to watch this. Please turn away.”

  “Amber,” Xlina pleaded, wrapping her arm around the girl and turning to the alley entrance. “Let’s let him work.”

  “I want to see,” Amber protested, but Xlina just continued ushering her along.

  Standing at the edge of the alley, the pair of girls looked into the Mist, unable to see anything but shadows of the Earth Realm beyond. A wet gurgle and the sound of meat being cut came from behind them. Xlina chanced a look back to see Oxivius squatting over the prone man with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held a jack-knife in one hand, which was covered in blood and dripping down over his knuckles. In his other hand, he held an organ of some kind. It flopped messily, spilling blood with trails of ichor as he brought it to his mouth and bit into it. Her stomach turned in knots, bringing the familiar nauseous sensation she felt when he accessed his death magic.

  He ripped at the organ with his bare teeth, blood dripping down and staining his beard. It was a violently gruesome display of savagery that made the very core of her being question what it was she was doing. Everyone, from the Brothers Three to the assailants, had warned her that prolonged exposure to the mark would cause her to allow evil to seep into her soul, that she would do and accept evil things as she slid down that slippery path to damnation. While watching Oxivius chew on the organ of the recently deceased, it was hard to argue otherwise. As if on cue with her thought, his head flung back, and his eyes filled with a blood-red glow. She could feel the energy of death gather in the air as he stared blankly at the wall. It was as if he was watching something he alone could see. His eyes flashed with a surge of power before returning to their normal icy blue hue.

  His eyes caught hers then in a moment that seemed like an eternity. The expression on his face, his beard stained red with the dripping blood, wasn’t feral or even aggressive. It was a look of sadness perhaps, as if he were lamenting his existence, or perhaps he was lamenting that she had seen him this way. There was an apology in his eyes as he looked at her, an apology for dragging her closer to the darkness. Yet beyond that, there was a pleading, a yearning for acceptance. He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood on his face as best he could manage.

  “Come, Amber,” Xlina said, turning back with an arm over the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s see what’s left of my apartment, shall we?”

  She walked to the edge of the Mist and beyond, emerging from the alleyway across the street and heading for her apartment as if she had been casually strolling through the neighborhood and not passing between the ether that existed between realms. Amber signed in relief as soon as they stepped through, and Xlina made a mental note to be more mindful of how frail normal humans were to the energies of the Otherworld.

  “I bet the maintenance guy is going to be pissed.” Amber laughed, remembering the splintered door. “That’s definitely coming out of your de
posit.”

  “You’re right about that,” Xlina laughed back as they crossed the street and made for the front door of her building. “I guess I should have sprung for renter’s insurance after all.”

  It felt good to have normal, healthy banter; after everything that had just happened, Amber was like a grounding wire to her humanity. Who would have thought that the snooty rival down the hall would become her anchor to the normal?

  They made their way up the stairs to the second floor and were pleasantly surprised to see the maintenance man had already come and gone, leaving a new door hung on her apartment with a note instructing her to stop by management for the key.

  “Yeah,” Xlina sighed, pulling the yellow Post-It note from the door and crumpling it in her hand. “Come see management for the lecture if you want to get in and collect your things. The bastard will probably give me the eviction notice at the same time.”

  “We can regroup at my place,” Amber offered, motioning to her apartment door with a hopeful smile, glad she could contribute.

  “Thanks, Amber,” Xlina replied. “You go ahead; I am going to head down to management and see about getting in. I am dying to get into my own clothes.”

  “Will do,” she replied with a mock salute before pulling Xlina close in a hug. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Nearly getting you killed?” Xlina answered, uncomfortable with the unexpected embrace.

  “For saving me,” Amber answered. “And trusting me to see your world. Despite how crazy, weird, and... violent it is.”

  “You’re welcome,” Xlina said, returning the hug and departing back down the stairs toward the first-floor management office. The sense of acceptance washed over her, and she wondered if it was the same feeling Oxivius was searching for. She imagined him again crouched over the body, and she wondered how many times he had been considered a ghoul picking the flesh of the dead. No wonder he was such an odd duck. At least with her dreams she could walk around like a normal person most of the time. Oxivius harbored a much darker gift that would forever label him as an outsider among humanity.

  She approached the management office and strode in with firm resolve. She hated seeing the building manager, Larry. He preferred to be called Lawrence, but he was definitely a Larry. The heavy stench of cigar smoke filled the office as she entered. It assaulted her senses with a heavy ash smell faintly tinted with an apple scent, as if anything could mask the pungent aroma. There sat Larry behind his desk, sporting a pair of black-rimmed glasses as he pored over a pile of receipts. He was bald on top, with only a few wisps of hair left, which were comically combed over. His ruddy face was round and aged, showing his many years with crow’s feet and pockmarks. His nose was bulbous, with the typical purplish tint that seems to follow a long life of heavy drinking and smoking.

  Larry drummed the fingers of his left hand anxiously on the desk as he flipped through the stack of receipts with his right. He looked up from his glasses at Xlina standing in the doorway and grumbled incoherently. Leaning back in his chair, he looked like an ape, wearing a heavily stained white tank top that seemed to get lost in the copious amount of body hair on his back and shoulders. He gave her a smug look as his belly peeked at her from where the tank top ended and his gut began flopping out onto his lap.

  “Damages,” he barked, thumping the receipts with his right hand in a demanding gesture. “And lost time from the two hours I spent with the PD, young lady.”

  “Larry, I know,” Xlina jumped in, trying to prevent a heated discussion.

  “You know,” he scoffed with a bluster, reaching for his cigar still burning in an ashtray on his desk, which seemed to be two months past due for a good cleaning. “Quiet enjoyment.”

  “What,” Xlina asked.

  “Article 13 of your lease,” he barked again, pounding his fist on the stack of receipts. “Quiet enjoyment is a right to the undisturbed use and enjoyment of real property by a tenant and owner. Quiet enjoyment is not having a door ripped off its hinges or having the damn complex turned into a crime scene.”

  “I’m sorry,” Xlina pleaded in desperation.

  “Sorry!” he barked with an unsatisfied huff. “Sorry doesn’t calm my other residents.”

  “It wasn’t—” Xlina began but stopped immediately as Larry held up his hand.

  “Shut it,” he ordered. “The detective already told me: looks like a break-in. They want your report, so you’ll need to head down to the station. I don’t buy it though.”

  “The break-in?” Xlina asked timidly.

  “Yeah,” he snorted back, pulling a long draw from his cigar. “I’ve been in the business for years; ain’t never seen no robber tear a door to kindling like that. So come clean; what you got? A boyfriend? A stalker? All hopped up on angel dust and looking for a good time?”

  “No,” Xlina balked in disgust at his inference.

  “Yeah, I know how it is,” he barked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, flicking his cigar so the ash fell freely to the dingy gray floor. “College life is all wild parties and drunken binges, right? All fun and games until the cops show up. Any more incidents like today, and I’m throwing you out. You hear me? I am running a business here, not some college frat house.”

  “Yes, sir,” Xlina said robotically.

  “You better hope to hell the boy that did this isn’t coming back,” he snarled leaning forward. “I’ll have his punk ass carted off to jail, and I mean it. You’re just lucky the cops are calling it a break-in.”

  “It wasn’t what you think,” Xlina sighed. “Trust me.”

  “This is your one chance, Ms. Dar’karrow,” he threatened, pointing a pudgy finger at her chest. “I’ll drop the damages bill in your mail slot. Hope you have a good renters policy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Xlina replied, feeling like a worm on a hook. She could at least punch a beast from the Otherworld; her landlord, on the other hand, was just a piece of work.

  “I expect it to be paid in full,” he clarified, pounding his finger on his desk in sync with each word to accentuate his point. “I ain’t running no loan service here. If you need money, go to a bank.”

  “I understand,” she said, waiting for the lecture to be over so she could claim her new key. Larry eyed her, giving her a scan from head to toe as he brought his cigar back to his mouth. There was a look in his eyes as if he wanted to say something more, but he thought better of it and instead reached into his desk and produced the new key.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” he barked. She scooped up the key, grinning with a nod, and turned from the office. “And don’t call me Larry!”

  She exited the office as quickly as she could, making her way back to the stairs and letting a cough escape her lungs, glad that she was back in clean air. She came up short at the stairs, finding Oxivius leaning on the banister with a wry smile.

  “I could eat him,” he said with a grin, showing his pearly white teeth.

  “He’d probably not settle well,” Xlina warned sternly. “All that fat and filth would clog your arteries.”

  “Am I still welcomed?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course,” Xlina replied, starting up the stairs.

  “That’s good,” he said, taking her arm in the crook of his as they ascended the stairs. He still had a coppery scent like blood, but his hands had been wiped clean. “I learned the most fascinating things from your assailant.”

  “Is that what that was?” she asked as they crossed to the second-floor threshold.

  “Indeed,” he replied with a nod. “The Aztecs used to consume their adversaries’ hearts, believing it carried a foe’s strength and knowledge with it. There must have been some truth to that, for a lamia like me, that is. You see, when a death eater consumes the heart, I can claim much more than sustenance; I can see images of the owner’s life, clues imprinted in their being.”

  “Is that why your eyes went all evil like,” Xlina mused, wriggling her fingers in front of her eyes pl
ayfully.

  “Precisely,” Oxivius confirmed as they reached her door. She used the new key to unlock the door and gestured for him to accompany her into the apartment. “Inviting me up to your place, how forward... first a meal, and now back to your place?”

  “Ox.” She laughed in response.

  “I was beginning to think you preferred Amber,” he replied teasingly. “I mean, there is nothing wrong with that.”

  They looked around at the trashed apartment, the last quip falling flat in the face of the devastation before them. The Mist had taken the Cu Sith bodies with it, but the wrecked table and scattered dishes lay strewn about, the only evidence left of their struggle.

  “Perhaps another time,” Oxivius said slyly, looking at the mess.

  “I think I liked the cannibalism jokes better, Ox,” Xlina said flatly, picking her way through the debris. “Why isn’t there blood?”

  “The Mist hides many things,” he answered with a shrug. “Some speculate it was a spell cast long ago to conceal the Otherworld. Just be thankful; if half of Amber’s blood were found here and her missing with us at the Necropolis, then your report to the police could have been an interrogation rather than a burglary claim.”

  “You heard that part, huh?” she added, scooping up broken items and tossing them into a trash can.

  “I think half the building heard it, love,” Oxivius answered.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked, feeling a little overwhelmed.

  “Well, you still have a social worker,” he answered. “Have her do her thing and smooth it over. As far as your assailants, we need to go see a puckwedgie.”

  “A what?” she asked, not wanting to think of her social worker but instinctively remembering the mark at her mere mention.

  “It’s the fae who is trying to off you,” He added nonchalantly. “They are a forest-dwelling fae, tricksters who no longer honor their pacts with man. They prefer now to lure them to their deaths.”