Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  He got Monty up. But the guards still had their bows trained on him. A murmur rose from the crowd.

  The queen clapped her hands. “My guests! To the banquet hall for refreshments and the awarding of prizes.”

  While they filtered out, leaving her alone in the gallery, Digger and the rest of the fel were kept in place. He tensed up, expecting the worst as he steadied his brother.

  He fought to keep his voice calm. “We’d like to leave now.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” the queen asked. “Before you walk free from here, you have something which belongs to me. A piece of paper. A trifling thing you should never have had.”

  Digger fished the crumpled page out. The attendant moved to take it but at the last second Digger held it back.

  “Lord Angel wanted this so badly, enough that he’d try to kill for it. Your plans—I know what they are.”

  “Do you?” the queen asked.

  “I know what lies to the east of your walls. If your catacombs expand that way, I know what will happen.”

  “What is it you think you know?”

  “There’s a lot of fel in this city who have buried loved ones in East Hill cemetery. The oldest of the crypts run this way towards the castle. What do you think will happen when the population finds out what your expansion will mean?”

  “My subjects will do as their told.”

  “You can push us only so far.” He wadded up the page and tossed it over. The attendant grabbed it, unfolded it, and nodded to the queen.

  Digger tried to get past the guards. At any moment he expected them to either seize him or attack. But he had little strength left to do anything about it. Monty was breathing hard and had his eyes clamped shut.

  “It’s okay. It’s almost over.”

  The guards stepped aside.

  “Oh, champion?” the queen called. “You’re welcome back here anytime.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  DIGGER AND THE OTHER monsters were escorted through a series of narrow hallways and several sets of stairs until they returned to the original waiting room. More food was there and a few waiting servants immediately moved to help them. Monty and the others appeared groggy, their earlier madness evaporated.

  The attendants assisted in removing costumes and makeup.

  Monty was unhurt but continued to shiver uncontrollably. Digger sat with him as his own bleeding shoulder was sutured and bound. Isabel was returned to the room, having been changed out of her gown and into a simple dress with an apron and bonnet. She eyed the servants with suspicion before checking on Monty and Digger.

  “He’s okay,” Digger said. “We’re okay.”

  She nodded and sat next to them. She didn’t seem to want to speak in front of the castle staff. A moment later she began counting her tokens.

  The other fel were tearing at the buffet. It was as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

  A servant began wiping thick makeup from Isabel’s face with a white handkerchief and some kind of cream. Isabel placed the tokens into the pouch of her apron and allowed herself to be tended to.

  “Is that enough to buy you what you want?” Digger asked.

  “And what is it you think I want?”

  “You want your Jamie to live. He survived. You want Lord Angel to land in trouble with those gangsters. But using the tokens to buy that thing will make you a target. It’ll also justify this place in the eyes of the entire city.”

  She pushed the servant away and proceeded to wipe the makeup from her eyes. “I don’t like your tone. We nearly died today. What’s wrong with wanting to salvage something out of this?”

  “Taking a prize validates the games. Think about every pureblood who watched us fight. In their minds we earned our reward. If we take it, it means we agree to play by their rules.”

  “From what I’ve heard, more of them died this season than any other. Thanks to you.”

  “So what do you think claiming the queen’s prizes gets you?”

  “Security. A place of my own in Diregloom.”

  He scoffed. “You think you and Jamie will be safe here?”

  “No. Jamie will have to go home. He was stupid to come. This place is too dangerous. And if you think I’m being selfish, I do support the Black Rock Mission. They saved me once. I’ll keep doing what I can for them so they help others like us. My question for you is, why don’t you want any of those things?”

  “Because there’s no such thing as security here. Not for me or my brother. What’s going to stop Lord Angel from coming after you?”

  “Angel’s days are numbered.”

  “So you say. But if you haven’t noticed, these nobles have a way of making sure they wind up on top. You’re going to want to vanish with your winnings. Get as far away from here as possible. Maybe Hellard can help. We can’t take the chance Angel is just going to get taken out by this gangster.”

  She nodded but appeared to be in thought. She scooted over to look at Monty. Took his hands. Digger was surprised to see his brother manage a slight smile.

  “He’ll be fine.” Digger got up and tested his shoulder. The ache was fierce, the pain sharp. Each motion sent jolts up his neck and down to his wrist. He paced impatiently for whatever was to come next.

  The attendant in the clown costume appeared at the cell door and invited them to follow. They took a hallway to the base of the ramp that would lead them up out of the maw of the catacombs. From the sound of things, the party above was well underway.

  Digger stopped the clown. “We’re released, right? Isn’t there another way out?”

  “It’s part of the show,” the attendant said. “Act fierce, if you could.”

  The clamor died when they emerged out of the demon’s mouth and faced the throng of spectators. A few people cheered, including a man who sounded like the heckler. But most jeered and all too quickly there came a hail of canapés, fruit, and wine glasses.

  Digger did his best to shield his brother as they walked through the mob. Isabel tried to face the crowd defiantly but had to duck more than a few wine flutes that shattered around them. The other two fel followed closely. The initial barrage petered out and stopped entirely when a waiting group of palace servants wearing long brass-buttoned orange coats stepped forward, providing them a corridor that led to the front of the castle.

  The queen and several other nobles waited. The queen’s smile had been replaced with regal coolness. Angel’s brother Jamie stood at her side. A balding man dressed in a white ruffled shirt and waistcoat spoke up. Digger instantly recognized the voice. He was the game caller.

  “The victors of the games may now choose their prizes. Please follow me.”

  The queen and her entourage preceded them towards the castle doors. Most of the nobles in the crowd bowed.

  Isabel began to climb the stairs after her. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Digger remained where he was. He had Monty by the arm. The exit gate was a stone’s throw away. He had one last token in his pocket. He tossed it to her.

  “Wait for me,” she said.

  Digger made no promises.

  IT FELT UNREAL WALKING out the castle. It was as if any moment a guard would stop them and they’d be rearrested. Some new rule would be added, or their charges would be reinstated at the whim of Angel, the queen, the sheriff, or some other random noble.

  The mass of partygoers outside were clapping wildly and no one threw anything. Most were fel, but there were also many pureblood rank-and-file citizens of Diregloom surrounding them. None of the faces gawking at Digger and Monty had been in the gallery. They had heard the details of the game’s outcome secondhand. Perhaps some had made money off the long odds of a monster winning the games. It didn’t matter, not to Digger. He had to get his brother out of there, find a new way to keep their heads down, and hope by the end of the next week their faces would be forgotten.

  They were jostled. More than a few backslaps followed, and then some buffoon spilled a mug of beer all
over Digger. Digger shoved several people aside and hurried Monty past the worst of it. The crowds thinned by the time they made the first fountain.

  Monty looked greener than normal. “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’ll figure it out. We’re almost out of here. We’ll find someplace safe to hide.”

  His brother shook his arm free. But he was instantly unsteady, and he leaned against an olive tree growing at the side of the cobblestone street.

  Digger steadied him. “Just throw up. You’ll feel better.”

  Monty was breathing deeply. “I don’t need to...”

  He threw up.

  Digger waited until Monty was done and guided him to the spraying statue where six cherubs spouted water from bugles. Monty rinsed his mouth. There were still too many eyes on them.

  “Hurry up.”

  But where to hide Monty? Certainly neither of their apartments. The decision came to him as he helped his brother down the length of Fountain Street towards Stockade Square. He’d take him to the last place anyone would look.

  The graveyard.

  THE WEIRD TWINS REFUSED his offer of coins. This was good, because he didn’t have any left. They wore identical smiles and their frog eyes were wide and impossible to read.

  The sister with the eyepatch draped an arm around Monty. “One as handsome as he? I’ll watch him close and keep him safe.”

  The second sister took Monty’s hand. “So smooth. So soft.” She peered into his eyes. “Yet troubled.”

  “Keep him out of sight, even from the other gravediggers. Will your father be okay with this?”

  “He’s at the games,” the sister with the eyepatch said. “Left us to care for the yard. Besides the other diggers, no one comes on a day like today. Yet you’re here.”

  The second sister’s tongue flickered from her lips like a snake. “With company.”

  “Digger?” Monty asked as he was led towards the cottage.

  “They won’t hurt you. I’ll be back. Say, I need to borrow a cart. I’ve lost mine. Some tools as well.”

  The sister with the eyepatch raised her eyebrow. “A cart and tools? This will cost you, Digger. And how do you propose to pay?”

  Digger sighed and waited for her terms.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ANGEL WOKE TO THE SOFT beat of a distant drum. The sound only grew as his mind tried to focus on where he was. He had been fighting in the catacombs. Overwhelmed. The gravedigger and Isabel had been making threats. Demands. But then he had passed out.

  Judging by the soft linen and the bed, he guessed he was somewhere in the castle. The bed was smaller. This definitely wasn’t his room.

  His face itched. And still the drum kept beating, and it only got louder. He groaned as he sat up. Gauze and bandages wrapped his face. There was a wad of gauze inside his lower lip. As he pulled it out, he felt loose teeth.

  Four other beds filled the room. Each had a patient in it wearing bandages. Splinted arms and legs were elevated by wires on harnesses attached to the beds. Two white-clad women tended to one of the patients. Orange light spilled in through a window.

  It took Angel a moment to realize the patient the nurses were caring for was his cousin Marisol.

  He swung his legs out from under the sheets. White pain shot up through his side. He felt something shifting. Broken ribs, no doubt. He gritted his teeth and prepared to stand.

  A third nurse came rushing over and placed her hands on his shoulders. “You’re in no condition to get up.”

  The nurse was a fel.

  “Get away from me.”

  Bang-bang-bang.

  A wave of dizziness almost sent him back down, but he thrust his hand out and gripped the fel’s arm. Then he forced himself to stand. The nurse assisted him. He managed to hobble over to Marisol’s bed. Her pallid face looked like that of a corpse. Her mouth was agape. At first he thought she wasn’t breathing, until finally she drew in air and let it out in a ragged gasp.

  “It’s a wound to her spine,” the nurse said. “One of her kidneys has failed. We will have to operate. The surgeon is coming but he’s working on another wounded contestant. Lord Clement.”

  “Get him here now.”

  Bang-bang-bang. The drum kept pounding.

  “He’s performing an operation.”

  “I don’t care. Tell him the queen’s nephew has ordered him here.”

  Bang-bang-bang.

  Angel winced. He had to lean on the footboard of Marisol’s bed. The reek of something astringent threatened to make him gag. But the hammering wouldn’t stop. The incessant pounding made his ears ring and his molars ache. He began to peel away the bandages from around his face. The noise...it wasn’t coming from the window but was beating inside his skull.

  “I wouldn’t do that, sir!”

  “Where’s...my aunt? Send for her.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Rochus said. The steward entered the convalescents’ room through a pair of double doors. He still wore the clown outfit but the cap was off and some of his makeup had streaked. The buzz of a distant party and violin music followed him.

  “Don’t provoke me, Rochus. Send for Aunt Claudia.”

  “She won’t see you. You’re to take your rest. And then, you’re to return home.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rochus barely contained a smile. “The queen thought it best you go back to Bahia and your family. Loom Island isn’t good for your health.”

  “Let me talk to her.” He fought to get out the word. “Please.”

  “She was most insistent.”

  “I got her what she asked for. Everything that was taken has been returned. She can’t reject me now. If I could just see her for a minute.”

  “She has her guests from the games and is quite busy. Perhaps I can dictate a note.”

  The throbbing in Angel’s head felt like it was going to split his brain in two. The thought of dictating anything to his aunt’s pet fel made him sick. Judging by the look on the steward’s face, he wasn’t going to gain an audience with his aunt anytime soon.

  But then another, darker thought brought clarity to his clouded head.

  “The games are over?”

  “Two of the victors left before the ceremony. Quite rude. But it seems the girl Isabel held more tokens than any catacomb contestant has ever won. She purchased quite a few of the queen’s prizes, to the reluctant accolades of the nobility. If I’m to be honest, several of your peers were shocked at the outcome. An upset, truly. The monsters’ winning has created a buzz. Strange, though. You’d think more of them would be scared off by such an unforeseen outcome. But we’ve had more contestant candidates immediately apply to fight in our next season than ever before in the game’s history. We’ll be able to select the best nobles. The queen is very excited.”

  “I don’t care about any of that. My aunt...her assassins...they’re no longer out to kill me?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Where’s my brother? I need to see him.”

  “He was at Lady Claudia’s side for the duration of the awards. He seems to have recovered from the blow he suffered. She’s quite taken with him. Now won’t you go back to bed? Your aunt has given me a bottle of her best medicine she says will make you feel...what were her words? Right as rain.”

  “Stay away from me, Rochus.”

  Angel pushed past him. Despite wearing only a nightshirt, he ran out the door of the castle ward in search of the exit.

  THE SWIG OF FORTIFIED wine he took only made him feel queasier. Yet he clung to the bottle he’d taken from one of the revelers as he hobbled out the castle stable and tried to mount his horse. Even with the stable boy helping him, Angel kept hopping around in circles until he finally pulled himself to the saddle on his belly. He managed to swing his leg over, the bottle slipping and shattering at the horse’s feet.

  It took another moment of gripping the reins as the animal jerked
in surprise before he could take control of the horse.

  Bang-bang-bang went his head.

  Too many green faces stared at him as he urged his horse through the crowd at the front gate. Lanterns illuminated the evening, lighting the way down to the waterfront. He shivered. He felt clammy with sweat. It wasn’t very cold out, although Diregloom’s fog was coming in. Yet the touch of the air felt like ice as he clutched his nightshirt and directed his horse to his townhouse.

  He didn’t need much. Clothes, certainly. While most of his luggage was at the castle, he had brought a couple of satchels of party clothes to the rental house along with toiletries and his best shoes. And if he didn’t want to wait for the morning ferry, he’d need money to pay a fisherman to climb out of bed and get him away from Diregloom. He had a small stash of silver, his emergency stash. It would be enough.

  He needed time to regroup. Heal. Find new allies who would return to the island with him. Then he could confront Jamie, find Sprite, and take the treasure that belonged to him. His injuries and the embarrassment he had suffered were all temporary setbacks.

  Returning to the townhouse was a risk he’d have to take. Red Eye would still be looking for him. But Angel would gamble that the gangster had heard he had been in the games. Angel’s departure would fool everyone.

  As he tied the horse off at the hitching post, he thought of whom among his cousins he might borrow money from. Red Eye would settle for a partial payment with the promise of more to come. Address the vig, worry about the principal later. Perhaps Sprite had done him a favor by winning. With his brother in the city, she’d be easy to catch.

  Next he could figure out what to do to return to his aunt’s favor. He managed to smile. He knew he’d think of something. Let her see he was willing to play by her rules and be a part of her games. Whether Marisol would recover was anyone’s guess. He’d miss her, but a rising star like him would gather more moths.