Hell On Wheels

by Rhyll Biest

  Before she could make a sharp retort Missy jumped to her feet. Valeda looked over her shoulder. Adriel. His gaze rested on Missy who suddenly found somewhere else she had to be.

  If only I had somewhere else to be as well.

  ***

  Adriel slowed as he neared Valeda. He needed to establish a truce between them.

  She eyed him warily, Moloss at her feet, as he approached with his peace offering, a plate of food. He held it out to her.

  She looked away, pale face revolted. ‘I can’t eat that.’

  He forced a stiff smile. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Look at it.’ She poked at the hunk of dead horror bird on the plate. ‘It’s as hard as a rock and doesn’t even look properly cooked.’

  ‘You have to eat.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you care whether I eat?’

  ‘Because you’re my responsibility while under my protection.’

  ‘I don’t need your protection,’ she snarled.

  ‘Is that so?’ He gave what he knew to be his most infuriating smile.

  ‘I despise patronising males.’

  He grinned. ‘How much do you despise them? As much as I despise—’

  ‘Manners? Education? The face you were born with?’

  ‘Unreciprocated oral sex.’

  She scowled. ‘Ack! Must everything be about sex in this place?’

  ‘Not at all. I’ll see you get another plate of food, the meat well-done. What part of the horror bird would you like? Breast or thigh? I’m partial to both, myself.’ He grinned at the way her hands curled into fists before tossing the meat on the plate to the waiting Moloss who wolfed it down.

  ‘You think you’re funny, don’t you? Let’s see how funny you find it when I get this collar off and play hacky sack with your internal organs.’ She stalked away.

  How he loved her flirtatious side.

  Fira passed by and he grabbed her by the arm. ‘Make sure she eats.’

  ‘Who? The child bride?’

  His brows lowered.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ She sniffed. ‘Though what am I, her ma? Want me to act as her nanny too?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  She left, muttering darkly under her breath. He sighed. Not his finest moment, starting an argument instead of making peace with his wife and then taking out his bad mood on a soldier. He used to have more finesse but the curse was making him edgy.

  He’d woken, unrested, from a sleep in which a large black creature had stalked his dreams, as big as a dread mare but wolfish rather than equine. It had loped for miles through forest and battlefield, never tiring. And he’d seen through its eyes, the world flattening out to nameless colours as he swept through trees—the scrape of branches failing to penetrate his thick fur—his radar-sensitive ears laid flat against his skull, his nose a cunning interpreter of the wind.

  Like a hellhound.

  Unease pricked his scalp at the thought.

  He needed answers from his bride about her brother. The closer the battle with Paimon loomed, the more he feared the curse would prevent him from defeating the enemy. But how did he make the princess talk without causing her eyes to bleed?

  Surroundings blurring, a high-pitched whine bored into his ears.

  He grabbed at a tree for balance. Rage from nowhere turned the blood in his veins into molasses, a rotten black mess that forced his heart to beat triple time as a red veil lowered over his vision. Pain, pure and absolute, clawed his flesh. His vision sharpened then receded, a slingshot that fired him into confusion.

  And then nothing.

  Moloss whined and jumped up to lick his hands, the hound’s eager thoughts bouncing and bumbling against his. He blinked. Where was he? The bark, rough and warm under his hand, reminded him. How long had he stood there for? Why had Moloss sought him out rather than keeping guard over Valeda? He ran a hand over his face. What was happening to him?

  ‘Moloss, guard!’

  The hound took a second to look abashed before haring off after Valeda.

  Adriel ran a lightly shaking hand over his eyes. He was losing control, running out of time. Paimon’s curse would rage through him like a hungry cancer before he even got a chance to raise his sword against him.

  He didn’t want to do it, but he had to press his wife harder for information about her brother, otherwise he was lost.

  ***

  Valeda explored the camp, moving away at the first hint of unwelcome glances, looking for the armoury. It might have tools, tools she could use to unlock her collar. While most of the tents were sleeping size, a bigger one drew her attention and she circled it. Could it be the armoury?

  She ducked her head inside the flap for a look and met the flat stares of several naked soldiers sitting in heated mist.

  ‘Oops, sorry.’ She backed away, face burning. How was she supposed to know there was such a thing as a sauna tent?

  Her back collided with a hard wall of flesh and she spun around, an apology on her lips. It died as she looked up at the captain. He stared down at her, silver eyes gleaming, holding what looked like a bundle of poles in his hand. ‘Peeking inside the sweat tent, princess? What would your mother say?’

  Scowling, she smoothed her tunic. ‘Of course not, I was looking for something to eat, and—’

  ‘No need, Fira will find you something suitable.’

  ‘Right, because Fira has such exceptionally refined taste.’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Once you’re done eating, make yourself useful and pitch a tent big enough for both of us. We’re going to have to make camp for several more hours.’ He thrust at her the bundle of tent poles he held.

  She stared at them. It wasn’t a difficult job but his tone rankled. Who was he to tell her what to do? ‘Why do I have to pitch the tent?’ Her gaze drifted down to his midsection. ‘Can’t you pitch your own tent?’

  ‘Would you like to see that?’ His raised a dark eyebrow.

  She sniffed. ‘Hardly, and just so you know, I’m not sleeping in the same tent as you.’

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I don’t particularly care whether you sleep or not, but you park your curvy little butt inside our tent by curfew or I’ll come looking for you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ She narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Oh, I would.’ His tone could have cut glass. ‘It’s a safety issue.’

  She challenged his hard gaze with her own. ‘You’re not worried I’ll cut your throat in your sleep? That’s a safety issue too, isn’t it?’

  He didn’t even blink. ‘Try it and see what happens.’

  Formidable as his size was, she would bring him down. Oh, yes she would. ‘You underestimate me.’

  He brushed a fingertip over her collar. ‘Not at all, this says otherwise.’ He winked at her.

  See? There it was, the lack of respect that grated so much. Was it really asking too much for him to treat her with just a tinge of deference?

  He thrust the tent poles into her arms before he strode away whistling.

  She stared at them. Perhaps she could sharpen them into stakes and skewer him while he slept. Smiling, she carried them to the blood portal she’d drawn earlier. She couldn’t wait any longer for Lymenia—who was no doubt having a jolly time razing a city to the ground somewhere and had forgotten all about the books. Valeda dug in her tunic pocket and found the scrap of paper. The note, written in her blood and addressed to Cinna, would find its way to her sister but she hesitated before throwing it into the portal. Each time she and her sisters used the portal it grew brighter and more easily tracked by demons with that ability. But what were her options? Wait around until the captain’s questions pureed her brain? She tossed the note into the portal and watched it fade from sight.

  As she waited, she used her dagger to make skewers out of the tent poles. ‘You can be “head”, and you can be “gut”, you two can be “gonads” and you can be “back”.’ It probably didn’t bode well that she’d started namin
g her weapons, though Lymenia would no doubt approve.

  Moloss, lying by her feet, gave her a quizzical stare.

  When her sister finally did appear, it was with gyrating booty and a pair of headphones clamped to her head. Her fractured straw-and-gold gaze met Valeda’s as she tore the headphones off to sling them around her neck. ‘Whatchya doin’ there?’ Cinna eyed the tent poles on the ground.

  ‘Pitching a tent.’ Valeda scanned the barren landscape and shuddered.

  Cinna smirked. ‘Look at you and the husbo glamping on your honeymoon, so cute. And here was me thinking he’d be the type to keep you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.’

  ‘Another comment like that and I’ll pull your nails out one by one.’

  Cinna grimaced. ‘Jeez, grouchy much?’ She squinted at the iron collar around Valeda’s throat. ‘What’s that you’re wearing? Has the captain gone all Fifty Shades on you?’

  ‘No,’ she growled.

  Cinna gave her a sunny smile. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. But, hey, if you have a little baby captain, do you reckon you’ll have a natural delivery or pop it out through the sunroof?’

  ‘Through the what?’ She frowned.

  ‘The sunroof. You know, get a C-section.’

  Her frown shifted to a scowl. ‘There will be no babies, Cinna.’

  ‘Breastfeed or bottle? Gonna eat your placenta?’

  If ever her palms had itched to slap someone … ‘For the love of fairy facial rashes, will you focus, please.’

  ‘What about baby names? Flangelina, Hercooty, Fergyna.’

  ‘Cinna!’

  ‘All right! What? Don’t shout, Fifty Shades will hear you.’

  ‘Are you going to help me, or not?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m here, aren’t I?’ Cinna scanned the distant camp, her flecked eyes swirling madly. ‘Plus, I was dying to see this place.’

  That, Valeda readily believed.

  Cinna eyed Moloss. ‘The captain gave you a puppy? How sweet.’

  Yeah, real sweet. ‘I need you to steal something for me.’

  Cinna leaned forward, fractured eyes glowing. ‘Ooh. What? And why?’

  Valeda blinked. This was the problem with asking others for help—they asked questions. ‘Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you steal a lot of shit and you’re pretty good at it.’

  ‘Why would I take that the wrong way?’

  Valeda bit her lip. ‘No reason. Anyway, do you think you could steal me a key?’

  ‘Too easy.’ Cinna eyed her collar. ‘The key for that thing? Where’s it kept?’

  Valeda frowned. ‘Well, that’s the tricky bit. I’m not sure. Though I suspect the captain keeps it on him at all times.’

  ‘Fifty Shades has it on him?’ Cinna shook her head. ‘Aw, c’mon, Glas, even I’m not that good.’

  What felt like barbed wire dug deep into her brain as her hope in Cinna faded. ‘Please try, though if you can’t manage it, there’s something else I’d like you to do.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I need to get in touch with Lore.’

  Cinna whistled. ‘That’s a big ask. Archdemons are hard to find unless they want to be found.’

  ‘I know, but you said that they frequent the dead pools, looking for useful things to recycle.’

  Cinna nodded. ‘I’ll snuffle around and ask the dead what they’ve seen, but it’s a bit of a long shot. What do you need to get in touch with Lore for?’

  To save my sanity. ‘I’d like to negotiate a deal.’

  ‘Oh, sounds juicy.’

  Her stomach rumbled. ‘And please bring me some non-perishable snacks. This lot live on carrion.’

  ‘Ew.’ Cinna wrinkled her nose. ‘Nasty. But let’s go back to that other thing—why no babies with Fifty Shades? Is he not welcome in your love grotto?’

  Valeda scooped up a handful of sand and pebbles but before she could throw it Cinna disappeared.

  Chapter 7

  Valeda was still deliberating whether to wrestle with the tent poles when the first moon set and Missy tapped her on the shoulder. ‘It’s on in fifteen, follow me.’

  Valeda glanced at the spot where she was meant to pitch the tent. Stuff it, Captain Carnage could pitch it himself.

  Moloss at her heels, his claws scraping against bare stone where it peeked through the dirt, she followed Missy and the carry pack slung over her shoulder. What was in the bag? Knuckledusters? Turnips?

  Around the bend of a canyon, a crowd had gathered at the side of a thin chalk line on the ground. It curved in a circular formation. A solitary dust devil swirled within it.

  Valeda studied the red rock beneath her feet. ‘Isn’t rock kind of a hard surface to skate on?’

  Missy glanced at her. ‘It’s gotta be rock, otherwise the ground gets ripped up.’ She pointed at a series of stone arches. ‘The competitors skate through the rock formations as part of the course, and they try to pass each other. Game lasts an hour.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very long.’

  Missy snickered. ‘Feels long enough if you’re playing.’

  Valeda glanced at her. What did that mean? ‘How does it work? First to the finish line?’

  ‘Nope. It’s a point system. Each team has a jammer and a pivot, and whoever’s wearing the team underpants on her head can score points by passing opposing team members.’

  Underpants on her head? ‘What do the others do?’

  ‘Try to stop her from passing.’

  Valeda raised an eyebrow. ‘And how do they do that?’

  ‘Knock her out or block her.’

  Block her. The words sounded so innocent. ‘And what are you allowed to do to block someone?’

  ‘Technically, you should only use the booty bump or your body, not your hands or elbows. And you can’t block from behind.’

  Right. Valeda squinted at a demoness walking by in a sawn-off nurse’s uniform, arse cheeks on show. ‘Why’s she wearing that?’

  ‘Oh, well it’s not all about the bloodshed. We like to play dress-ups, so it’s kind of about getting silly as well. And after the game’s over it’s time for drinking and then, generally speaking, everyone gets their freak on, so it makes sense to wear something sexy.’

  Valeda blinked. ‘Gets their freak on?’

  ‘Yeah, dressing up for derby matches is all one big flirty warm-up for the evening orgy.’

  Orgy? Her eyes widened. ‘The what?’

  ‘The date night orgy. I told you about it.’

  But without mentioning the ‘o’ word. She cleared her throat. ‘Who takes part in that?’

  ‘Everyone.’

  ‘Everyone?’ Including the captain?

  Missy blinked. ‘Oh, well, not if they don’t want to.’

  ‘And is that right after the game?’ If so, she would have to leave before the game finished and hide. Now she was wishing she had pitched the tent.

  ‘Nah, generally it’s ale, ale, and a few more hours of ale, and then shagging, shagging and more shagging.’

  Classy. Sweet Satan’s panties, Valeda hoped no-one invited Semya to attend. That would just be embarrassing, running into her sister at a post-game orgy. Not that she’d be around to see it; she would be hiding inside her tent.

  Missy shoved a carry pack at her. ‘Here, hold this.’ She shimmied out of her tunic and pulled on a waitress uniform with the hemline resting an inch above the twin hulls of her arse cheeks.

  Valeda raised an eyebrow. ‘A waitress? Really?’

  Missy twirled, her grin wicked. ‘That’s right, my game name is Vajayjay Diner because I serve up fresh, hot snatch daily.’ She winked.

  Valeda smoothed her tunic to hide her horror. ‘Where do you get your costumes?’

  Missy tapped the side of her nose and grinned. She pointed at a towering black pompadour in the distance. ‘That’s my game wife, Fira.’

  Game wife? Valeda was afraid to ask. ‘Is Fira on your team?’

  ‘Yup. We’re up against the fifth ph
alanx. We wiped the ground with them last game.’ She bared her teeth in satisfaction. ‘Coach Arvalis is coming your way. She’s going to mind you while I play. Stick close to her.’ Missy disappeared into the throng of spectators.

  Valeda looked around. A minder? She didn’t need minding; she already had a pint-sized hound that never left her side.

  She stiffened as a pack of rough, rude ruffians surrounded her, one making an unspeakably obscene gesture with his tongue and two fingers. Moloss emitted a low, surprisingly deep growl.

  However, before Valeda got to see Moloss in action, a one-armed she-demon appeared and rattled her sabre against its scabbard, her grey eyes narrowing at the ruffians. ‘The cap’n’s orders were to make her welcome, not to make lewd gestures at her.’

  ‘Aw, lighten up, pussy-lover.’

  ‘That’s pussy-lover extraordinaire to you, thanks very much. Now, go soak your nuts in lava somewhere far away from my derby track.’

  More laughter and the group wandered away.

  ‘Useless pack of fart funnels.’ She slid Valeda a sideways glance. ‘I’m Arvalis.’ She rammed her sword back into its scabbard before eyeing the iron collar around Valeda’s neck. ‘Is that a wedding gift from the captain?’

  ‘Yes, I picked it out myself.’

  Arvalis gave a bark of laughter that she hastily turned into a cough. ‘Come on, let’s get a better view of the track. Missy said you’ve never watched demon derby before. I’ll explain it to you.’

  Explain it? As if she couldn’t work it out for herself. Valeda forced a smile. Arvalis was just being kind in her own annoying lowborn way. And she could be useful. As Valeda followed the she-demon, a movement high above caught her eye. It was a she-demon perched high on a rock ledge, her aura like a scarlet tunic billowing in the wind, and red eyes glowing embers in the dark. Even from a distance Valeda could sense the power emanating from her. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘The ref.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Justice.’

  Valeda shot Arvalis a look. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘Nope.’

  How many other demons with powers fought with the captain’s legions? Aside from the captain and his brother, Justice was the first she’d seen. And how many fought for her brother?