Page 30 of Blaze of Our Lives

“Good plan,” she agreed. “Well, my best guess is that there will only be one challenge.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” I muttered. “I guess it’s survive or die time.”

“Let’s survive,” Pandora uttered.

Watching for my opening to join the shitshow me itchy. Reminding myself that in the past I’d successfully ended Demons who wanted me dead was only a small comfort. It was wildly unrealistic to think the challenge wouldn’t include violence. Still staying low and hidden, I tested to see if my magic worked. My fingers immediately sparked. I quickly shoved them into the sand to douse the flames so I wouldn’t be discovered.

The sound of metal on metal made me jump. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“A huge screen just appeared,” I explained. The screen was the size of a billboard on the side of the highway and was situated above the bleachers. Tribal music blasted out of speakers I couldn’t see. Photos of the contestants were being projected. For the umpteenth time today, my jaw went slack. “No freaking way.”

“If you leave me in the dark, I will start singing. You do not want me to sing,” Pandora threatened.

“Umm… the contestants,” I said, staring at the screen. “Their faces. It’s all wrong. They have the bodies of Demons but not the faces.”

“At the risk of sounding like you—which gives me gas—could you be more specific?”

I had the absurd desire to laugh. I didn’t. “Yep, I can. One them has the face of Mr. Rogers. One has the face of Mr. McFeely and the other has the face of Pee-wee Herman. It’s the people from Candy Vargo’s version of the Higher Power’s plane.”

“I do not get paid enough to deal with this shit,” she grumbled. “It’s quite obvious that you’ve internalized other people’s accounts.”

“Very obvious,” I agreed. “The munchkins had the faces of Brad Pitt, Clark Gable, Warren Beatty, Dolly Parton and Jennifer Aniston.”

“Son of a bitch,” she griped. “I’m so mad I missed that. Did you get a picture?”

“Nope. After they beat the hell out of each other it wasn’t worth it.”

“I would have been fine with seeing them dismembered,” she said, pouting.

“Of course, you would have,” I shot back with an eye roll. “Names. Their names are with the photos. Mr. Rogers is Drogruzun. Mr. McFeely is Ezzanod and Pee-wee Herman is Brolrath.”

“I don’t recognize any of those names,” Pandora said. “They are not my people.”

I caught myself before I reminded her that she didn’t have people anymore. It had already been said and she hadn’t liked it. Even if… no, when I got her out of me, the Shitty Whore was in for a world of hurt. Killing Lilith would not go unpunished. Candy Vargo was pissed that Pandora had escaped her timeout for trying to destroy Abaddon. There was no way the Keeper of Fate would make that mistake twice. It went without saying that I would owe Pandora for her help. The Demon world was very eye for an eye. However, she’d committed the sin that made all others pale in comparison.

“Good to know,” I said. “Pretty sure they’re not my people either.”

The photos of Drogruzun, Ezzanod and Brolrath were on a loop. I’d seen all three at least six times now. In the blink of an eye, the wind picked up. The sun emitted a sizzling pop and grew brighter. I had to shield my eyes from the glare. Drogruzun, Ezzanod and Brolrath began to growl and gnash their sharp teeth. In human form a Demon looked like a regular person. In Demon form, not so much. The searing heat coming from their hulking eight-foot bodies stank like sulfur and made my stomach clench. The green fire with icy blue sparks covered their bodies popped and crackled. They were ready to rumble.

Shit.

The next surprise wasn’t much of a surprise. I’d expected it. It was my dream state, after all. A picture of me graced the screen. It was a recent photo from a shoot Cher had insisted I do. The look was casual sexy. I was leaning against a wall at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. My expression was direct and fairly neutral, but my eyes held a world of untold secrets. It was the picture of a strong woman—a woman who knew what she wanted and would work to get it. A woman who would not back down from a fight.

“I need to be her,” I whispered.

“Who?” Pandora asked.

“Me.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I told her. “I just got my cue to enter the scene.”

“Excellent,” she said. “Chin high, shoulders back and be prepared to dismember the competition. Go for the balls first. If you angle the sword slightly to the left of the crotch and slice it up in a circular motion, you will sever off the penis as well as the testicles. It’s quite glorious. They never expect it. Just when they realize they’re now sopranos, lop their fucking heads off.”

“Mmmkay,” I said with a wince. It wasn’t a bad plan but the visual was nasty.

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