The portal brought them right back into the dining hall; they dropped onto the floor with heavy thuds. Ophelia groaned at the ache of the landing as she made her way to her feet. The boy, however, stayed on the ground, losing the contents of his stomach all over the carpet. She cringed, sidestepping out of the onslaught’s path, and looked around to find Cade and his accomplice shoveling food in their mouths at the far end of the table.
“You almost got people killed,” she said, seething, stalking toward them, “and you’re sitting here stuffing your faces?”
“Not our problem,” Cade said. “You were there before me and Beau. You should’ve taken the opportunity when you had it.”
“There can only be one winner,” Beau added. “It’s every person for themselves.”
Ophelia wrinkled her nose at them. They were heartless scoundrels. She had been much too focused on the insidious dangers Phantasma would throw at her, and foolishly overlooked the threat that her fellow contestants posed.
“You could have waited a bit longer to make sure as many of us could get through as possible before waking the hound! You’re both selfish pricks.”
Cade laughed as he set down the leg of roast chicken he had been ripping into as if what she just suggested was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard. “Don’t be so naïve, little mouse.”
“Of the two of us, I think it’s you who is closer to vermin,” she spat at him.
His expression quickly turned to a sneer. “If it’s between everyone else and me, I’m choosing me. You think I want to be here? My family gave me the option of going back with the prize or not going back at all. I don’t give a fuck about your sense of nobility.”
“Besides, that Devil, Zel,” Beau chimed in before the vein in Cade’s forehead ruptured with anger, “he already ran off to offer a bargain to whoever needed one in there. That’s how this place works. And if they’re smart, they’ll take it. Otherwise, it’s their own fault that they die.”
“A Devil’s bargain is not a mercy,” she reprimanded. “It’s deplorable of them to prey on victims like this.”
It was becoming apparent that these were not the Devils of her sinful daydreams. The ones that could take advantage of defenseless souls but chose not to… using their magic for their sensual desires instead of insidious games… But isn’t that why she had always so closely adhered to her mother’s rules?
This was a Devil’s true nature. It made her sick to think she ever imagined getting whisked away by such darkly perverse beings.
Beau wiped the back of his hand across his freckled face, smearing the shiny grease from his meal off his lips before he spoke. “That Devil made it abundantly clear that anyone could have forfeited before they entered. Not really the Devil’s fault for taking the offerings of such fools.”
Cade laughed in agreement. “The desperate will consent to the most egregious prices after all. I’d bet a Devil’s success rate here is ten times what it is with tourists in the French Quarter after dark. And if you ask me, I’d much rather Devils reap their deals here than be roaming our streets.”
“You’re disgusting,” Ophelia told them, backing away a step. “And if someone had to make a deal with a Devil in that maze, it’s because you assholes couldn’t wait a few minutes longer.” Cade snapped out his hand to grab her wrist and hold her in place. “I don’t like being called names.”
“Let go,” she demanded, trying to tug herself away, but his grip only tightened.
“You can’t really think you’re going to win this competition if you can’t handle these harsh truths, little mouse,” Cade taunted.
“Stop calling me that.” She glowered as she pulled again.
“Make me,” he bit out.
The malice in his eyes made her blood run cold. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been alone in the company of a man. And she certainly had never been around a man like this. One who looked at her like she was prey.
She braced herself and gave another hard yank. When he still wouldn’t let go, something strange happened. Her wrist slipped right through his grasp. Not because his grip loosened, but because her entire arm turned transparent. Her mouth fell open as she watched her limb return to its solid state a second later.
“What the—?” Cade scrambled back from her. “You’re—you’re one of them. One of the manor’s Demons. This is a trap!”
Beau clamored out of his chair. “How did you even touch her, then?”
“I don’t know! She was solid at first!” Cade swore.
Ophelia couldn’t help it, she giggled. Her mind was finally reaching its breaking point after the terrors of the first trial. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the young man she’d saved passed out in a pool of his own sick, and her laugh deepened.
“Let’s get the Hell out of here,” Beau insisted, panicked. He pushed his way past Cade, his food completely forgotten.
Cade narrowed his eyes as he made to follow his companion, but they didn’t get very far before the entire room went pitch-black.
“What is she doing now?” Beau shouted. “I can’t see anything!”
A few candles flared to life as soon as he said those words, and Ophelia’s eyes widened as she took in the scene change. The food on the table was now crawling with spiders and other rancid creatures. Centipedes and magots writhed over the now-bare carcass of the roasted chicken; goblets of blood replaced the wine.
Beau retched and lost his dinner all over the rug.
“Stop it,” Cade growled at her, an ominous orange glow illuminating his face from the dancing firelight. “Go away, Demon bitch!”
Her giggling stopped. “I am not a Demon!”
“I don’t believe you,” Cade snarled as he stalked toward her. “Make it stop or—”
He paused when he noticed a metallic flash atop the table. A silver carving knife had appeared. The damn house was spurring him on.
They lunged simultaneously. She was only a second too slow, and he managed to slip the blade off the table, brandishing it between them.
Adrenaline speared through her. “I’m not working for Phantasma,” she implored. “This isn’t happening because of me!”
“I saw your arm disappear, you lying bitch.” He stabbed the silver blade in her direction.
There were several paranormal beings that could be killed by silver. If a Poltergeist managed to possess a solid form on this linear plane, silver could sever them from their vessel and send them back to the Other Side. If you could manage to stab a Wraith or Demon in the heart with it, it would banish them to Hell—permanently. Necromancers, however, had no such magical weakness to the metal.
She would just bleed out the old-fashioned way.
Cade dove forward, tackling her to the ground. She struggled against his weight, thrashing her hips and legs to buck him off of her, but with him straddling her waist, it was hard to gain leverage. When he brought the blade down toward her heart, she threw her hands out, trying to block his swing, but the action was unnecessary. The knife plunged into her chest, but there was no blood. No pain. From her neck down she had disappeared.
A strangled sound caught in her throat at the sight.
“Don’t tell me you’re not going to fight back, angel,” a voice drawled somewhere above her. “Careful, or I’ll have to start believing you save all your moxie just for me.”
Ophelia bristled at Blackwell’s taunting words, while Cade remained oblivious of the real threat standing right over his shoulder. But Blackwell was right.
Before Cade could bring the knife down again, she summoned the small amount of magic she had left after her confrontation with the Hellhound and sent all of it right into the bastard’s abdomen. Icy blue sparks crackled through the room from her palms, and Cade flew off her, passing through Blackwell’s transparent form, and landing on his back with a thud. She scrambled to her feet.
Cade didn’t waste any time recovering, pushing up from the ground more pissed than before. Blackwell was grinning down at her like a fiend, and her breath hitched as she watched him shift from his non-corporeal form to something just solid enough to grab the neck of Cade’s shirt and yank him back before he could advance on her once more.
Cade stumbled in confusion, his arms flailing in panic as he tried to twist around and see what had caught him. Blackwell’s grip held firm.
Cade looked at her and demanded, “Let me go!”
“I’m not holding you,” she told him, palms up to demonstrate her innocence.
“Stop lying to me, bitch—ah!”
Blackwell spun Cade around to face him now, Cade dropping the knife to the ground in shock.
Then Blackwell solidified himself completely. “Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.”
Cade gawked at the sight of Blackwell’s tall frame, but his expression quickly soured as he spat, “Incredible, even Demons have whores—”
Blackwell grabbed Cade’s wrist and twisted his arm until he screeched in agony.
“Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.”
A surprised laugh fell from Ophelia’s mouth, and Blackwell turned his face just enough to wink at her. Her amusement was quickly cut off by the feeling of something crawling up her right arm, however. She looked down to find spiders the size of her hand skittering over her dress. “Gross.”
While she began brushing the pests off her, Blackwell sent Cade flying into the far wall before blinking out of sight to reappear by her side, transparent once more.
“It’s time for you to get out of here,” he urged as he flicked another of the arachnids off her shoulder. “It’s about to get much worse than a few bugs.”
“Worse than the Hellhound?”
She regretted the question the moment it slipped from her mouth. Spiders bigger than her head were dropping from the ceiling of the dining hall, and she swore she saw something slither out of a dark corner.
Phantasma certainly knows how to throw a victory dinner.
“It’s too dark for me to see anything,” she complained, spinning around to grab one of the candles on the table, sending bugs scurrying in every direction.
When she held the flame up to illuminate the space in front of her, however, the wax melted all the way down to the quick. She hissed as the hot liquid dripped onto her.
“Out this way,” Blackwell advised, guiding her by her elbow. “Watch your step.”
That was easier said than done, but she didn’t resist as he led her toward the exit, kicking away another snake as they went. After a few careful steps, Blackwell’s hold on her elbow tightened and he halted them in place.
Then, his mouth was right next to her ear. “Don’t. Move.”
She began to ask why, but his hand clamped over her mouth to stop her from speaking. She scowled, having half a mind to bite him for such a rude gesture, but then she noticed it.
Describing the creature in front of her as nightmarish would be an understatement. It was another serpent, but this one would not be so easily kicked away. Its fangs were the length of her forearm. The reptile’s shrewd yellow eyes unsettling as it poised itself to strike. When it opened its mouth—which was big enough to swallow her whole—she noticed it had not one, not two, but three rows of razor-sharp teeth behind those fangs.
Blackwell slowly dropped his hand from her face when he was sure she was too frozen in shock to make another sound. He moved behind her, pressing himself flush against her back, sliding his hands around her waist to hold her steady. By the way the serpent didn’t track his movements, she knew he had gone back to being only solid enough for her to see and feel. She was too terrified to pretend she wasn’t grateful for his presence in that moment. Even though the stillness of his chest against her was oddly unnerving. There was no rise and fall with his breath—no heartbeat.
Ophelia’s heart, on the other hand, was about to burst.
“You’re going to slowly back away,” he instructed. “And when I say run, you run. Got it?”
“Couldn’t you just make it go away?” she whispered back.
“Not without payment,” he answered. “Unless you’re changing your mind about my offer, I don’t have enough power to get rid of the serpent or transport you somewhere with me.”
She balled her hands into fists. “I will not make such a life-altering decision because I’m cornered. That’s as bad as making a deal with a Devil.”
She felt him shrug. “Then get ready to run. On my word.”
She took a deep breath, and he gave her waist one last reassuring squeeze before blinking away somewhere too dark for her to see. Now it was just her and the beast.
There was a crash of glass somewhere in the back of the room, and the snake snapped its head away to investigate. She waited for Blackwell’s signal.
One excruciating minute passed. Then another.
When it failed to come, she wondered if the blackguard had abandoned her. The serpent was already turning back her way, and she knew she had a decision to make. Trust the Phantom she’d only just met with her life—or make a run for it.
She was hoping her locket might guide her through the decision, but it remained cold as ice against her throat. She gave Blackwell one more minute. When he still did nothing, she took a deep breath and broke into a sprint before the serpent’s full attention locked in on her again.
Wrong decision.
Her movement recaptured the serpent’s interest, and the creature darted forward, striking out with its head. She didn’t even have time to scream as she dodged to the side, crashing into the sharp edge of a marble pedestal, and sending the stone bust that adorned the top crashing to the ground. As she fell forward to her hands and knees, one of the shards from the statue sliced open her left palm.
“Fuck.” She cradled her palm to her chest and twisted around to see the snake poising itself right above her. When it lunged out this time, she wasn’t fast enough.
As the creature’s fangs pierced through the soft flesh of her shoulder, the room shattered with the sound of her shriek.
