Legs pumping with sweet adrenaline, I ran as fast as they would take me with lack of food and water, which wasn’t fast. It was more the equivalent of a heavy smoker trying to run a block while coughing up his lungs. Yeah. I was a spectacle to watch.
Why did Faris toss me a puny knife?
I was glad I had an audience to see me like this. The roar of laughter reached me, but soon all I heard was the thrashing of my heart in my chest. There was only me, that gargantuan killer spider, and a puny knife.
Why had Faris looked at me like he’d just solved all my problems? Like I should know what to do with the knife?
Thank the cauldron the igumo wasn’t a great sprinter. I’d run around the arena once now, and the demon spider was still behind me. But I wasn’t an idiot, I couldn’t run around like this for much longer. If the spider was smart, all it had to do was wait for my energy to run out. Then I was its meal.
But I couldn’t stop now. Stopping meant death. I didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to have its hairy, disgusting legs touch me or its fangs sinking into my skin. I might vomit.
If I was allowed anything at all, why would Faris toss me such a small thing?
Small knives were good for cutting and slicing.
And then it hit me.
The knife wasn’t for the spider. It was for me. He intended me to use it on me.
With my heart in my throat, I spun around. Seeing that the igumo was halfway across from me, I pulled off my left glove, pocketed it, and gripped the knife in my right hand. I slashed it across my left palm, and dark red blood pooled in my palm, lots of it. I needed lots.
Gasps and cries of outrage slammed into the silence, but I didn’t dare look at any of them. Especially not Vorkol.
I had power in my blood. Blood was power. All witches had it, some more than others. Blood magic was complicated, and I had never really gotten into it. It was messy. All that blood. Also I could never truly swallow the killing and sacrificing of small animals—sometimes humans, but they were bad humans. I didn’t want to go that route with my magic. Having demons do my bidding was easier, and I didn’t have to kill a squirrel or a rat for it.
Still, I was in the Netherworld. The balance of magic and all things supernatural was different here. And yet, Faris had tossed me a knife. That meant he knew my blood magic would work. I had to believe it. I had to trust him. He’d just risked exposing himself now. Vorkol had seen him. Things would be different for Faris now.
I fell to my knees, my focus clear, which was surprising under the giant-killer-spider demon circumstances.
The igumo halted about a hundred feet from me and cocked it head, seemingly catching a whiff of my blood. It was still for a moment, and then its body shook. A horrible wailing sound erupted from it—a sound a normal spider shouldn’t make. This was no ordinary spider.
And then its fur changed from black to red—blood red, as though it were mimicking my blood and anticipating tasting it. Yikes.
I knew I had seconds before the spider attacked.
Here goes nothing.
Squeezing my left hand, I drew a triangle-shaped sigil using my own blood in the sand before me. With my heart pounding in my ears, I squeezed more blood out of my hand and added a circle next to the triangle. I wrote the name Sabnock in Latin in the center of the circle.
I looked up to find Faris’s dark eyes locked on mine. He gave a small nod of encouragement. He knew exactly what I was doing. It had to work. It had to.
Then came the part where I had no idea if it was going to work.
By the cauldron, let me be right.
Taking a deep breath of acidic air, instead of stepping inside the circle, I stepped into the triangle.
Blood trickled down my left hand. I’d cut myself deeply, but that was the least of my problems.
The igumo screeched, and then it was on the move again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Gathering up my courage, I stood with fisted hands and willed my mind to focus as I channeled the magic from the blood summoning circle and triangle.
A wind rose around me, lifting my hair and carrying the scent of sulfur and rotten meat. My skin pricked as energy flowed in and around me. The air shifted, and a cold wave of energy cascaded over me.
It was working.
The igumo demon was only fifty feet away from me and coming fast.
My heart thrashed madly in my chest. The energy was unfamiliar, and yet I didn’t stop. Channeling the blood magic, I recited the incantation as fast as my lips would move, all without pause. I cried, “I conjure you, Sabnock, demon of the Netherworld, to be subject to the will of my soul. I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters, and I deliver you into the black chaos in perdition. I invoke you, Sabnock, in the space in front of me!”
Energy rushed through me, cold, dark, and powerful, and I nearly fell backwards. I steadied myself as the energy screamed and surged through my core, burning the inside of my body as though my blood was liquid fire.
Damn.
I gasped as the blood circle and triangle at my feet shimmered and sparked into life with yellow and orange flames. The air sizzled with magic and I watched, amazed, as the energy churned and burned as it flowed around them, like liquid fire.
The igumo demon halted at the sight of the fire, seemingly afraid or maybe even curious.
And then the real pain hit.
I reared back as searing pain screamed through my body. The full effect of the blood magic hit me, and it burned, vicious and endless. My body shook in agony. I couldn’t breathe.
Blood magic hurt like a bitch. No wonder most witches stayed the hell away from it. But I would take the pain, all of it, if it meant a chance to get back home.
Heat rushed from me, leaving a sick, cold feeling in my stomach—the usual when conjuring demons.
And there, inside my circle, was a lizard demon the size of a rhinoceros.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “It worked.”
20
Who do you call when a giant spider is out to get you?
A kimono dragon on steroids, that’s who.
Sabnock was huge, ugly, and by the roundness of his yellow eyes—pissed as hell. His skin was midnight blue with silver stripes along his back, all the way to his tail, tipped with three sharp spikes. His body was hard and rippling with muscles. Thick forelimbs with slightly higher hindlimbs ended in clawed feet that could rip your head clean off with one strike. He opened his mouth and hissed, revealing rows of wickedly sharp teeth the size of kitchen knives. Excellent.
He was magnificent and deadly and mine, for the time being. Part of me wished he’d come in a smaller size. Was he good on a leash?
My pulse thrashed with excitement, pride, fear, and satisfaction. Even in the Netherworld I could summon its own monsters. I was a true dark witch.
I felt pretty damn good about myself right about now, even though I was in the Netherworld about to be eaten by a giant spider as the night’s entertainment.
I smiled. I wasn’t dead yet.
There was an immediate uproar from the demons, a sudden chorus of shouts and protest as outrage and anger filled the arena. It was music to my ears and filled me with valor. They weren’t laughing anymore, and I wasn’t just a puny little witch.
I met Faris’s gaze, and the demon was smiling proudly at me. He winked and gave a nod of his head. I had no idea how he knew my blood magic would work, but now I owed him big time. Something occurred to me. If he’d known my blood magic would work, perhaps Faris really could get me out of here. The mid-demon was full of surprises.