Page 62 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
The goblin leered through the bars. “I want to smell her flesh burn.”
Lightning sparked between the winged creature’s hands. A wendigo. The lightning flashed and grew. Aryana braced herself, but escape was impossible in this small cell. As a vampire, she’d survive the hit, but it would damn near melt the skin from her bones. Helplessly, she raised her chained hands above her face as if that might block the strike.
“Back up, boys. This one belongs to me.”
A demon with large hands, a broad jaw, and feline shaped eyes stood expectantly behind the pair. He bared his sharp teeth threateningly, long sharp nails extending out of his fingers. The other demons glanced at the crest on his robes and bowed, backing up. The lightning between the wendigo’s palms died.
“But of course, Lord Marbas,” he said.
“She is Zarathos’s pet,” the guard said.
The demon’s eyes gleamed even has his nails retracted. “I know who she is. Open the cage.”
A wariness stole over Aryana. Still in her chains, she rose. So far, the bars had served as the only protection she had from the abuse, but if they were going to allow them inside, she’d put up a fight.
The cell door opened, and Marbas stood at the entrance watching her in her battle ready stance.
He turned away. “Come with me.”
“Why should I?”
He shrugged, looking down the row of demons being tortured. The screams and cries of pain building. The goblin and wendigo had moved on to another’s cage, taunting the poor creature inside while the wendigo rebuilt his striking ability.
“Or you can stay here.”
It was a chance, but he didn’t know Aryana was a fighter. If she waited until the right moment, she could take him out.
She took a step, and her leg radiated with agony. She grit her teeth and limped forward. Marbas watched her, his lips pulled into a frown. “Come.”
He spun in a swirl of deep crimson robes, and she followed as they left the dungeons behind. She kept a careful eye on him, ready for when he turned on her. He led her through several hallways before he stopped in a deserted one. Then Marbas looked up and down the hall and dropped to a knee, pulling bandages from his robes.
Aryana stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“These wraps are covered in ground up unicorn hair. It will help the wound heal faster. Those scrapes on your back are light. They should mend soon on their own.”
She edged closer and let him wrap her leg. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
He chuckled. “I see our great arch king has already gotten to you.” The words were spoken in sarcasm. “I am Marbas. I’m a demon on the council that designs the Demon Trials.”
Aryana laid a hand on the dirt wall to steady herself while he wrapped. The moment the ointment on the bandages hit her wound, the pain eased, and she relaxed a little. “And why are you assisting me, Marbas?”
He stood, his expression clouded. “Because I want to see Zarathos defeated, and I want you to assist me in return.”
“Why do you wish for that?”
He waved a large hand. “My reasons are my own. But you can’t be pleased being his kalator. I don’t need much from you. I assume he has you under some bargain. But if you can give me information about the demon arch king, I’d be more than happy to ensure you make it through thetrials.”
“Kalators are killed before they have a chance of winning the Demon Trials.”
Marbas grinned. “There is a first time for everything.”
“You want Zarathos gone badly enough that you’d put a vampire princess on the throne?”
“Anything is better than Zarathos,” he said with vehemence.
His head swiveled around and he sniffed. “Speak of the devil.” He turned back to her. “Consider my words. We will meet again soon.”
And with that, he rushed off down the hall and beyond the corner.
