“He needs a doctor,” I shouted, my anger flaming. “Hey! He needs a doctor, damnit! I’m talking to you!” I waited to get Vorkol’s attention, but she was deep in conversation with a female demon sporting a shaved head in a white kimono-looking dress.
I knew she heard me. And yet, she couldn’t be bothered with me anymore.
There was only one thing left for me to do, only one thing I’d sworn never to do, never to tell. It was the only thing that could save Logan. She’d listen to me then.
My lips parted—
“Don’t,” wheezed Logan, and my gaze flicked to him. “Don’t tell her.”
I frowned at his perceptiveness. “Damnit, Logan,” I hissed, and feeling nauseated, I added, “I don’t care anymore. If I don’t tell her, you’ll die. I need to get you to a hospital. It’s the only way.”
His face twisted in pain, and he tried to smile. “I was dead anyway.” He swallowed and added, “You were right. She was never going to let us go. You can’t tell her.”
“Shut up.” My heart thrashed, his words ringing true, but I refused to accept them. “Come on. I’m getting us out.”
With whatever remaining strength I had, I managed to pull Logan up and wrapped his left arm around my shoulder. Supporting most of his weight, I stood and dragged him with me. My legs shook under his weight, but with his help, we managed to stay in a vertical position. I took the knife from his hand and slipped it into my back pocket.
“Are we going to walk out?” came Logan’s voice next to my ear. The laughter in his voice almost made me smile.
“Something like that.” Why not. No one was paying any attention.
My plan worked for about three seconds, and then the minotaur appeared in my line of sight.
Andromalius approached us, his muscular shoulders swaying. “What of the male?” he called out, when he reached us, his sword pointed at Logan. He looked over his shoulder to his mistress.
I frowned. “His name is Logan,” I said darkly. Not that it mattered.
The minotaur demon flared his nostrils at me, and a guttural growl rumbled from his throat, a sound of pure hostility and death that would have terrified me a few days ago. Now, I was just too tired.
Andromalius stood calmly and steadily, his sword’s tip in the sand with his hands folded over the weighted pommel, awaiting her instruction.
“I have no more use for the mortal if he can’t fight,” Vorkol said finally, a quick glance in our general direction before returning her attention to the demon in the white kimono. She snapped her fingers again. “Give him to the hounds. Mortal flesh is always best when it’s still warm.”
My lips parted, and real fear hit hard. I couldn’t get any of that damned, acidic air into my lungs. My knees wobbled, and I cried out as Logan’s weight crushed me. I strained to keep from falling over.
Andromalius’s feet moved toward us.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Cold terror rose, sudden and complete, and I braced myself as my heart lurched in panic.
This was it. I’d failed. We were both going to die—
“Wait!” came a shout from the crowd.
Heart racing, I turned my head towards the voice.
Faris stood near the lowest row of seats, right above the wall of concrete that separated us and the sand. Dressed all in black, his eyes met mine for a moment before he looked at Vorkol.
“You were banned from the games, Farissael,” said Duvali as he left the balcony and made his way forward toward Faris with a murderous look in his eye.
Faris flashed his perfect white teeth. “When did banning ever stop me,” said the mid-demon, his voice loud and clear, and the demons around him laughed.
“What’s he doing?” asked Logan, his breath on my cheek and his voice low with pain.
Keeping my eyes on Faris, I answered, voice trembling, “No idea. But I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Faris was reckless. Faris, what are you doing?
“Duvali,” commanded Vorkol, and her demon servant halted a few seats before Faris, looking like he wanted nothing more than to rip into him. “What do you want, Farissael?” asked Vorkol. The threat in her voice was palpable. It wasn’t the usual villainous emphasis one would expect, but she said it in a calm, almost bored tone, as though she were commenting on his clothes.
Faris turned and our gazes met. I could see the muscles in his jaw tense, even from a distance, but his face was expressionless. Only his eyes held traces of a hidden meaning as they focused on me. He was trying to tell me something. But what?
He gave me a tight smile and said, “Him.” The mid-demon pointed to Logan. “Let me have the mortal,” said Faris.
My heart stopped. And then started up again.
The demons in the arena laughed, thinking this was another one of Faris’s many pranks. But Vorkol’s face was stiff, which meant she wasn’t buying it.
“And why do you want this mortal?” asked Vorkol, regarding him with a casual mistrust as she leaned back against her throne-like chair.
Faris shrugged like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was Oscar-worthy. “You obviously don’t have use for him anymore.” He gestured with his hands. “Look at him. He’s leaking. Why not just give him to me? Let me take him off your hands. He’s nothing to you. It’ll save you the hassle, not to mention the slippery mess the hounds leave after a meal. Think of it as a favor,” he added, and I could almost see a twinkle in his eye.
“Why, Farissael?” pressed the Greater demon, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. “And no more lies. Lie to me again, and I will let you join him.”
“Because,” said Faris, his voice loud. He straightened, looked Vorkol straight in the eyes and said, “He’s my lover.”
I choked on my spit.
Then there was an abrupt and profound silence in the arena. Demons stood stock-still and stared at Faris.
I exhaled slowly and watched Faris’s face, amazed at how genuinely frank that had come out. Hell, if I didn’t know him, I would have believed him. Even his eyes carried that devoted emotion you’d expect from lovers.
Okay. He was good. But would Vorkol buy it?
The Greater demon gave Faris a considering smile. “Fine,” she said, dismissing the thing like it was nothing to her, as though discussing Logan’s life was as unimportant as the life of a flea on one of her hounds. She picked at her nail and said, “You can have him.”
Giving Vorkol a brilliant smile, Faris bowed at the waist. “You are too kind, Vorkol.”
“Sam,” began Logan, panic rising in his voice. His body trembled.
I shifted his weight on my shoulder. “Shhh. It’s fine. Faris will take care of you.”
My heart swelled. My eyes burned in gratitude, and it was hard work to keep the tears from spilling down my face and ruining Faris’s Oscar-worthy performance.
The mid-demon was already striding across the sand towards us when I looked back. His face was grim and worried, which only added to the overall effect. If I ever got out of this alive, I would give him free rein in the mortal world whenever he wished.
“I’ll take it from here, witch,” said Faris, loudly enough for the minotaur to hear, his voice laced with contempt. “I think you’ve done enough.” Faris moved to Logan’s right side and wrapped the angel-born’s arm over his shoulder.