Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

“What? Why ever not?”

  “Because this has been the most thrilling round in any of my games. You heard the crowd. They’re excited!”

  “He just murdered four purebloods! A fel!”

  “And bravo for him. He also beat the odds and declared his intention to not buy his freedom. Isn’t it magnificent? It’s the best season yet. He’s staying in the game.”

  “Aunt Claudia, all I have to do is go down there and get it back.”

  “No. He’s resting up. He’ll need time to prepare for this evening and I won’t have you hurt him.”

  “I’ll ask nicely.”

  “No one’s allowed into the lower levels that doesn’t belong there.”

  Angel glared at the various nobles keen on the conversation until they looked away. “You’ve sent an assassin for me,” he whispered. “Now I have what you want in reach and you’d have me wait?”

  “Oh, there’s no wait unless you choose to. By all means, take your nap. Maybe your widdle headache will feel better. But there’s a way you can claim the page without breaking any of my rules.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’d make me fight?”

  “Your brother has spunk. Maybe he’s the one who deserves a place on my island. The catacombs await, dear. Besides, we might have a few contestants give up their places after hearing about that slaughter.” She gripped his arm and gave the muscle a squeeze. “But you’re strong and a trained swordsman. I’ll even place a wager on you if it makes you feel better. It’s your choice, of course, my Angel. No matter your decision, I’m having the best day ever. You playing catacombs alongside your brother will only be the icing on top of it.”

  He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. No bucket of crabs was going to scare him off. He knew he could beat the gravedigger in a straight fight. But what other surprises awaited those who played the evening round of his mad aunt’s game?

  “The tokens he captured are for the taking?” he asked.

  His aunt hitched up her dress and began mounting the steps out of the gallery. “Of course.”

  “And the prize watch. How many tokens?”

  “Ten. And only for a contestant who survives the final chamber.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll play the game. Win that watch. But there better be room for my companions.”

  Her smile couldn’t get any wider. “Oh, super. I’m sure we can squeeze them in. Now I have to hurry. I have my game keepers to talk to. We’ll need to work on bringing up the lighting in all the rooms for when the action starts. Plus it was a bit chilly down here. I wonder what the oddsmakers say now that we’ve had this upset.”

  She kept talking. Rochus had appeared from some recess of the gallery and was taking notes.

  Game time for the evening was two short hours away, after the banquet. He had time to get Marisol and Gavin and Hector. They needed to be ready to fight.

  If there were no more snags, Angel was starting to see a way out of his predicament. He’d enter the game, kill the fel, take the cursed page and give it back to his aunt. And then he’d buy the watch and pay off Red Eye.

  Everyone would be happy.

  Simple.

  “Aunt Claudia, I’ll do it. But I have one small favor to ask first. And I think you’ll like it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  PAULUS WAS STROKING his beard as the guards brought Digger to the waiting room. The lounge had been straightened out since Digger had left. The table had fresh platters of fruits and meats. Full pitchers of beer and decanters of wine were set next to stemmed crystal glasses.

  “You’ve earned us the royal treatment,” Paulus said.

  The others appeared nervous. All of them were looking at Digger.

  “You heard us shouting?” Paulus asked. “We had you in mind. We were told we’d stand a better chance if we made a good show. That’s what they want from us, you know. Didn’t expect you to survive. No one did.”

  The cell door slammed and locked behind Digger. “I wasn’t expecting to either.”

  “Is it true?” a green-eyed fel asked. He hadn’t been among the earlier inductees. “Heard you killed half a dozen purebloods.”

  Paulus chuckled. “And was too efficient about it. They want a show, lad. Taking them out after they’ve fallen is bad business.”

  Digger eased down onto one of the couches. “Bad business? This is murder. Why shouldn’t they get a taste of what they’re dishing out?”

  “Because believe it or not, we might survive the day if we do our part. You fall, you scream, you bleed a little, and then you play dead.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on. You were the first to see those contestants. The ‘adventurers.’ Young kids with weapons, most drunk or stoned. They want to hear us squeal and cry for our mamas. Take our token. Buy their prize. No one cares that we’re not really dead. And we go free after it’s all done.”

  “You saying it’s all an act? That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  Paulus shook his head and scowled. “How long have you been in Diregloom? They have real weapons. Sometimes we do get killed. But it sure beats a noose.”

  The green-eyed fel looked confused. “How do you know so much? Did you work at the castle?”

  “He was a monster in a previous season,” Digger said. “So what can we expect later?”

  “It’s always a closely guarded secret. We have the defensive advantage, but the game’s rigged in favor of the contestants. I guess that was put to the test with your performance.”

  “Then why don’t you look pleased?”

  “Because at the end of the day, the queen hates to have her team lose.”

  THE TWO STITCHES IN Digger’s cheek were oozing. As he sat he tried to stay alert, ready for the moment when the guards or game attendants came for him. He had been told it would be two hours, but he knew he couldn’t believe anything from those involved with the catacombs, the castle, or the queen.

  Plus, Lord Angel might show up at any moment to claim the page.

  But that was a long shot.

  Why would the nobleman risk himself when he could pay off anyone to murder him? Even one of Digger’s fellow monsters might try something if it meant their own life would be spared.

  He thought of Hellard’s appeal to him and the others at the Dragon and Rose. As if fel would ever be united in a cause against purebloods. If generations of being hunted down hadn’t done it, if losing their hold on Loom Island hadn’t changed their collective minds, then it was every fel for themselves.

  Take the lesson humans had known since spawning from the dust of the ground in the times before the fel walked the earth.

  Trust no one.

  Rely on yourself and never be disappointed.

  A wave of tiredness almost sent him to sleep.

  It wasn’t just his body. It was the same feeling that had coursed through his veins after putting the magister and his guards into the ground. Something had left him since he learned his parents had been murdered. His spirit felt weary. And now he taken more lives, and the day wasn’t over. He feared he had lost a part of him he would never regain and now he was giving up the final pieces of his soul.

  Paulus poured him a beer. “Don’t worry, it’s small.”

  Digger sniffed it. Tasted it. It was excellent, hoppy and malty and smooth without being too strong.

  But after a couple of sips, he paused. “We can’t lose our edge.”

  “Maybe so, but it’ll calm the nerves.”

  He waited for Paulus to eat something first. Then he followed suit, slaking his thirst and eating. Like everything else he had been served since being brought up to the castle, it tasted fabulous.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  HELLARD PUSHED HIS cart next to a few other people waiting by the side gate to the castle. They had similar carts, and they had a look about them as they stood there. They wore hoods over their heads even though it wasn’t cold. Their clothes and boots were brushed clean
, but a sheen of dirt remained on all of them. At least one of them had a pick and shovel inside his cart.

  Just the people he was hoping to find. Graveyard workers like his new friend Digger.

  A fel smoking skunkweed from a curved pipe looked up at him. “Who’re you?”

  Hellard settled in and tried to look bored. “Queuing up for the inevitable bodies.”

  This caught all the gravediggers’ attention.

  “Don’t remember any new drudges hired by Xavier. You for East Hill?”

  Hellard didn’t know any Xavier. He had heard of East Hill but wasn’t aware of any other cemeteries on Loom Island. “Yup. East Hill cemetery. Xavier told me he was short a man.”

  The fel blew smoke. “Mind your place in line. I’m sure there’ll be plenty to go around.”

  A guard opened the gate and waved them and their carts through. On the side of the keep opposite of the party was a set of steps descending to a lower gate. Two of the gravediggers were escorted down. The fel with the pipe took a last puff before knocking the ashes out against his cart and putting the pipe away.

  “How bad does this get?” Hellard asked. “I have a delicate stomach.”

  “Guards do the cleanup. We just pick up the bodies.”

  As if to underscore his comment, the two fel emerged again with a shrouded dead body, which they flopped into their cart. They went down and brought out two more and then began to tarp the three corpses. The fel who had been smoking went down next.

  One of the other gravediggers was grinning. “This should be a good weekend.”

  Hellard peeked under one of the shrouds. The body appeared to be pureblood.

  “Hey! Hands off!”

  “Relax,” Hellard said. “Just looking, not taking. I’m wondering who will mourn these poor souls? Also I thought the games were rigged in their favor.”

  “They are. One of the game attendants just told us a fel cleaned house in the preliminary round this afternoon.”

  His companion, a woman with a toothy underbite, looked glum. “Figures. I bet the sure odds the monsters would get wiped out.”

  Hellard chuckled. “That’ll teach you. Did anyone say which monster made it?”

  “Why?” the woman asked suspiciously. “You know some of the felons in there?”

  “Maybe if word gets out that one of ours has taken out a pureblood or two, we might gather our own cheering section.”

  “False hope, ogre. Why don’t you just focus on the job?”

  The other gravedigger came back up the steps with a body over his shoulders. A green hand dangled from the cloth. “That’s it for this round. The other dead purebloods are being taken back to the mainland. Sorry, new guy, you’ll have to wait for the next round in a couple of hours. But it looks like you’re closer to front of the line.”

  Hellard checked the dead fel’s face. It wasn’t Digger.

  A guard began to escort them back out the gate. The buzz of the crowd carried on the evening air. A few of the attendees were visible past the guards, mingling near the front of the keep.

  Lord Angel appeared with two of his rapier-carrying associates on his heels. He marched through the crowd in an obvious hurry. He looked angry.

  Hellard hunkered down and watched him exit through the main gate.

  There would be no way he could beat the man to the stockade, assuming that was where he was going. Monty, unfortunately, would have to fend for himself. He still had Lord Angel’s two friends tucked away inside a shed. But Hellard wasn’t going to try to make any kind of deal on his own. If Digger was out of the picture, Hellard knew what to do with the hostages. He wished he knew where Isabel was.

  The bandit in him told him to cut and run. Diregloom was a big city and he’d find others who might be roused to his cause. The odds of freeing Digger from the catacombs weren’t good.

  But just maybe, just maybe, an opportunity might present itself if he was patient and kept his eyes peeled.

  In the meantime, he had an excuse to make new friends.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  THE GAME ATTENDANT was a diminutive man with a knobby nose and wearing a jester’s cap. He led Digger and the group of monsters from their waiting room through a narrow corridor and out into a wide faux cave with stalactites and sparkling ropes of ornamental seaweed.

  Guards followed. And judging by the sounds, more were watching from the walls.

  The center of the room featured black and pearlescent squares in a grid pattern. A closed portcullis lay beyond. Anyone trying to make the gate would have to cross the grid.

  “Watch your step here,” the attendant said, pointing to the grid. “Safety’s on; should be safe, but it pays to be careful.” He only stepped on the black squares.

  Digger’s makeup had been reapplied and a gold medallion hung around his neck. No one had explained anything about it. The other fel were chatty and jumpy, nudging one another as if they were about to go out on a date rather than face sword-wielding tourists out for their blood. Paulus once again appeared calm.

  They stuck to the black steps and crossed the grid. The attendant showed them a rack of weapons.

  “Your choice here, except for you.” The attendant handed Digger his broken whale bone.

  Digger grabbed it. “It’s busted.”

  The attendant shrugged. “All eyes will be on you. It’s now your brand. You can upgrade like you did before, if you wish, once the round is underway.”

  The others picked up large tridents and unwieldy chopping swords that looked like kitchen utensils or something a child might draw. The weapons seemed heavy enough that they could do damage, but against rapiers and swords they’d be too slow.

  Digger looked at the empty weapon rack. “Give me my sword back. I won’t pick it up until the round begins.”

  “That’s all you get. Now listen for your cues. Fight on this side of the game board only. Stay hidden until the contestants begin to cross the board.”

  Gripping the bone, he considered the possibility of smashing the attendant and making a run for it. But up in the high gallery, guards shifted and whispered. No doubt there were arrows or crossbow bolts pointing at them in case anyone got a crazy idea.

  The attendant went from prisoner to prisoner, straightening collars, wiping hair from faces, and brushing crumbs from their clothes. “Make it a good show. We’re all counting on you.”

  Digger thought about killing the man on principle.

  Two clusters of stalagmites on their side of the grid were actually hollow and made of wood, with blankets laid out on the floor. Their hiding places, from where they were supposed to spring up and scare the contestants. Digger walked back to the portcullis. It wouldn’t budge. The fake stonework was stucco over wood. There were more than a few real rocks strewn about for decoration. Most were unwieldy but a few were throwing-size. He began to collect them and brought them to one of the hiding places.

  “What are you doing?” one of the fel asked.

  “Taking every advantage we’ve got.”

  Paulus picked up his own collection of stones.

  The lanterns shining above the chamber dimmed. In the poor light the seaweed glowed. It truly was a marvelous effect. Sparkling glass set into the wall twinkled like stars or gemstones. Candles flickered to life above them as the gallery was illuminated. The spectators began coming down the steps, a warm buzz to their conversation. Judging by the noise, it was by no means a packed house.

  Curious.

  Digger crouched to examine the nearest white square. It didn’t appear any different than the black ones, but he didn’t want to press on it to find out. He then hurried over to where Paulus was taking cover.

  “Stay hidden,” Digger said. “Wait for me to throw my rocks. Then you go. We take out the first ones across. Bottle them up.”

  Paulus pulled one of the nervous fel along with him and got him situated behind the stalagmites. “Sounds like a plan.”

  They hid and waited.

  From
somewhere distant rose echoed cheers. The muffled voice of the game caller could be heard, but the words were indistinct. More cheers followed. The ones in the gallery above must have skipped whatever new first round was taking place in order to get to this chamber and front-row seats.

  He guessed there may have been other rooms beyond the first which didn’t involve the monsters. The voice of the announcer continued to echo along with still more cheers.

  Almost an hour passed before the gallery began to fill up.

  One of the new spectators spoke with a loud slurred voice. “I don’t care what you say. The first round one was better. This was all swinging dummies. My niece could have pushed her way through that!”

  “Yeah,” someone answered. “But that slime was funny.”

  “Sit down, both of you. It’s about to start.”

  The buzz above grew to a crescendo before falling to a hush. Digger focused on slowing his breathing. Ignored the growing cramp in his legs. The fel next to him kept making wet mouth sounds.

  “Stay close,” Digger whispered. “Watch my back and I’ll watch yours.”

  The fel nodded.

  “Ladies and lords,” the game caller said, “the adventurers have moved beyond the entryway and into the heart of the evil nymph’s lair. Her first line of defense has fallen. What new surprises lie in wait for our contestants? As a reminder, keep your hands within the bars at all times. This round will see our catacomb goers make their way into the chamber of secrets.”

  As if on cue, a soft whispering came from all sides of the chambers. A faint screeching began, as if a violin was being played purposefully out of tune. The gallery applauded. Blue light rose up from behind some of the larger stones.

  Digger could only guess at how many secret chambers and compartments were hidden away around him.

  More lights illuminated vermillion figures carved in the walls. Men, some appearing beastlike, were all making their way towards a beckoning woman who dominated the scene.

  The game caller said, “Here is where the nymph selects the best from among her suitors. She tests their skills, their strength, their cunning. Only the most virile will gain her favor. No intruder has ever entered this part of her grotto and lived to speak of it. Yet even now, our brave catacomb runners approach!”