Page 54 of Gladiator Moon

The demons stir uneasily, and for the first time since I entered his chamber, the Dark One’s attention shifts away from me. I smile. “Something wrong?”

His gaze returns to me, hot and hateful. “There is a disturbance.”

“In the force?”

“In my arena, vampire.”

The chamber shakes again. Dust sifts down. Somewhere beyond the iron doors, back in the Great Hall where I had first entered, shouts erupt. Men. Women. Creatures. Warriors. Lots of them. Still hovering, I turn to look, but the doors had shut behind me.

The Dark One goes very still. Azul looks up at me.

“What is it?” I ask the wizard.

“Something is different,” he says. Then his bulbous eyes widen. “Oooh! One moment.”

“What?”

“The holding cells have all opened.”

“Wait. What?”

“It’s true.”

The Dark One’s voice thunders through his throne room. “Baltazar!”

The roar of thousands of voices. Metal clangs. Stone cracks. Something enormous bellows. Another tremor rocks through this entire underground palace.

Those demons milling before the throne of bones begin turning in every direction. Some look toward the iron doors. Others look to the ceiling. A few look at the Dark One, waiting for orders. Except no such orders come.

The Dark One’s burning eyes snap back to me. “You did this!”

“I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“It’s a rebellion, Samantha,” says Azul. “Many have escaped. I can hear them shouting. They want freedom and revenge.”

I smile. “Well, I had nothing to do with it.”

The Dark One stretches out one massive arm, then points at the closed iron doors. Shadows gather around his fingers.

“Kill them all,” he says to no one in particular, though I suspect all his demons hear him.

But they hesitate. They don’t seem to quite know what to do. That is, until the massive iron doors into the throne room blow open. A wave of prisoners and warriors flow into the chamber. Some are armed with stolen swords. Some carry chains. Some use only their claws, fists, horns, and teeth. Behind them come the warriors and gladiators, those destined to fight in the arena: winged creatures, horned monsters, armored beasts. Things kidnapped and forced to fight, now suddenly free and looking for revenge.

For a heartbeat, the throne room falls eerily still. Then demons and warriors collide. The sound is deafening.

The Dark One looks from the fighting up to me, his expression darkening. The Devil Killer warms in my hand. The thing is veritably begging to be used. A small, sharp warning erupts just inside my ear. I turn my head and spin away as a flaming arrow whizzes past me.

This just got real.

Chapter Twenty-three

The palace erupts.

Roars of violence. Screams of anger and pain. Metal crashing against metal. Stone cracking, walls shattering, the ceiling collapsing. Looks like the Dark One hadn’t built to code.

More horns blare from somewhere above us, below us, and, somehow, from within the walls themselves. I suspect the games above have been called off. I also suspect those warriors fighting up there have joined the fray. Which means that Baltazar has something to do with this incident. Not just me. Only Baltazar has the power to release the warriors from the arena prison. What in the hell is going on?

For one dizzying moment, it is impossible to tell where anything is coming from. The Dark One’s throne room turns every shout into a thunderous war cry and every clash of steel into the deafening clamor of a hundred blacksmiths hammering away at once.