Page 53 of Gladiator Moon

“You choose strangers over your family?”

“I choose innocent people.”

“You think the sword gives you leverage.”

“I know it does.”

“You think because you killed the devil of your world, you understand all devils.”

“Mostly, I understand that devils can be killed.”

The Dark One’s eyes narrow. “The devil of your world wanted death. Your devil was tired. Your devil was bored. Your devil had become a prisoner in his own right. Not me. In fact, you could say I’m fairly committed to the job.”

Pickles is oddly silent. For once, he doesn’t seem amused. His chubby face is pale, his eyes round. Maybe he is finally beginning to understand what his family has been serving all these years.

“Or, you can just quit,” I say. “Give all this up.”

The Dark One chuckles. “Quit deviltry?”

“Sure. Retire. Take up gardening. Open a bakery. Devil’s Delights. Or a coffee shop. Dark One’s Dark Roast would be a hit.”

“I was made for this job. Literally.”

“I doubt you were made to create demons, torture chambers, and a death arena to drink blood.”

“I did not create cruelty, Samantha Moon. But I do explore it. It is expected of me. An enjoyable byproduct, you could say.”

As he speaks, fresh blood pours down the tube, where it gathers, filling like a tank. The smell of it is awful and familiar. Once upon a time, blood had been my jam. That had been years ago, back when I hosted a dark master named Elizabeth. Now, I just need energy.

“You are brave because you hold a sword,” he says.

“Not just a sword, the sword. And some might say I was brave before I found it.”

“Tough words. It’s time to stop the madness.”

“I like madness.”

“I bet you do, asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I offend you, O Foul One?”

“Tread lightly, vampire.” He sits back down on his throne. More bones crack beneath him. “Remember, I am not like most people. I am a creation. I was not born. I did not grow. I came into existence fully formed, with purpose.”

“You are afraid,” I say.

That lands. I feel it. The Dark One’s eyes burn brighter. “I am not afraid of a vampire.”

“Except I’m not just a vampire anymore. Do you see these dark wings? Angel wings.”

The Dark One rises slowly, his body unfolding from the throne in a mass of blackened muscle, infused with open wounds that drip magma. The demons fall back. They fear him.

“You return here and attack my house, killing my children,” he says, growling. “You wield a weapon you do not understand, forged by beings who long ago abandoned this world. Do not mistake my irritation for fear. You are nothing.”

The chamber suddenly trembles. The Dark One looks up.

Chapter Twenty-two