Chapter 2 – Negotiations In The Dark

      Disappointing Balthus was my most fervent wish. But although I had managed to mislead Lady Nightwing on that point, I wasn’t sure how much good it had done me.

      The only thing I knew for certain was that I wasn’t going home without whatever she could tell me about that infinity tattoo.

      “What kind of wager?” I croaked.

      Lady Nightwing’s vicious grin grew broader with the knowledge that I had chosen to stay.

      “Well, let’s see. We could have a riddle game,” she offered with a nonchalance that I trusted about as much as I’d trust Leslie Horowitz with my life savings.

      “I’m not very good with riddles,” I answered in a careful tone. “And I’m not sure how much sense a human riddle would make to you, and vice versa.”

      Lady Nightwing gave me a nonplussed look and Hob grumbled his displeasure.

      “No, Hob, perhaps Sydney is right. A race, then?” she suggested. The calculating light in her eyes made me suspect that, of the two, this was the option she would have preferred anyway.

      I rubbed my palms against my jeans in a nervous, unthinking gesture, feeling as if a vise was closing ever tighter around me. The rough denim reopened the drying cuts and the friction pushed the splinters deeper. Cringing, I stilled my shaking hands and lifted them away from the fabric.

      The renewed sting was forgotten when I looked up to find that the imps had begun to creep closer on all sides, a writhing wall of misshapen flesh moving to box me in. Hob was sniffing the air, his gaze fixed hungrily on my torn and bleeding skin.

      I stuffed my hands into my pockets, unmindful of the pain. What was a little stinging compared to the possibility of being eaten alive?

      “Your pardon, Lady Nightwing,” I sputtered in a high voice. “But I don’t think I’m in any shape to run a race at the moment. Maybe a game of chance, rather than skill, would be the best choice to even the playing field?”

      “I did not mean for you to join in the race, Sydney.” Lady Nightwing’s dry words were accompanied by a derisive snort from Hob. At least he had stopped scenting for my blood. “We would choose our contestants from the slave stock below and pit them against each other.”

      “Oh,” I said, still not enamored of the idea. I definitely wouldn’t put it past Lady Nightwing to rig a race in her own favor. Nor was I especially hot on the idea of participating in the forced racing of her slaves.

      “Um, I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know where to begin as far as picking out a suitable contestant,” I ventured apologetically. “I’ve never been much of a gambler.” As a matter of fact, I had taken more chances in the past twenty-four hours than I probably had in my entire life. “How about something simple, like …”

      My finger brushed the edge of thin metal deep within my pocket and an idea hit me. “The flip of a coin,” spilled from my lips, just as Lady Nightwing decisively said the word, “Dice.”

      She blinked at me as I pulled Sparrow’s silver coin from my pocket, knowing it was likely my best chance at receiving fair odds. After hearing stories about weighted dice, I had a feeling I wouldn’t fare any better with that suggestion than I would with races or riddles.

      “What do you say? It’s straightforward and quick, with a fifty-fifty chance for each of us.” A storm-cloud of suspicion drifted across Lady Nightwing’s brow. “And you can call your side first, since it’s my coin,” I added hurriedly. “You can’t get a fairer wager than that.”

      “Let me see that,” she demanded, presenting me with the outstretched fingers of one marble-veined hand.

      I balked at the idea of placing something that I knew was so precious to Sparrow in her possession. What if something happened to it? How would I tell Sparrow I’d lost his good luck charm and the last thing his mother had ever given him?

      Lady Nightwing’s face darkened with my hesitation and I realized it was too late to change my mind. If she knew the thing was important to me, I would be in even more danger of losing it. I schooled my expression and reached out to drop the coin in her palm.

      She snatched it away from me and held it up, flipping it over to study both sides. Bright silver glinted in the pale light spilling from the crescent moon upon her forehead. She grimaced as if the coin offended her, and I scrambled to catch it as she flung it back at me.

      “How came you by such an old sidhe coin?” she asked, her distaste evident.

      I shrugged, trying to make it seem insignificant. “I saw it and thought it was interesting, so I held onto it. But you can see that it’s just a plain old coin. No tricks. You choose the sun or the tree, and we’ll toss it in the air and see where it lands.”

      “You have strange friends for a human,” Lady Nightwing said with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “I am not best pleased that you brought this Seelie token into my domain, but fine - if it will make you more comfortable with our wager, then this is what we shall use.”

      She gave me an ingratiating smile that made my skin prickle with unease. “You are, after all, my guest, Sydney. Now, let us venture below to the arena. Our contest will take place there, for the amusement of the Hoarde.”

      She turned and glided across the deck toward the raised mast platform, the hem of her transparent gown fluttering around her pale ankles in the breeze. Hob smirked at me nastily and gestured for me to follow her with one thorn-spiked arm. I had no choice but to comply.

      The imps drew apart in order to allow Lady Nightwing through. A rotten peach sailed past, narrowly missing my head as the night grew darker with the retreating light from the Lady’s crescent moon. Laughter and grumbling faded to silence as the imps blended into the shadows once more.

      I followed in Nightwing’s wake, past the mast and down the opposite side, where a door had been cut into the platform wall. It opened onto a steep, narrow stairway that descended into blackness. There was no railing, only rough walls crowding in on either side, close enough for me to brace my forearms against as I ventured deeper into the belly of the Hell Barge.

      The climb was endless, the dank air disturbed only by the rasping breath of Hob at my back. Absolute darkness enfolded me, clinging and sticky like tar. It felt sentient, a heavy waiting presence that gradually suffocated life and hope. On and on I pushed through it, straining to keep moving despite the voice in my head screaming for me to turn around and run back, toward the feel of wind on my face and the familiar darkness of the night above.

      A steady rising panic engulfed me, leaving me breathless and dizzy. I stumbled, scraping my arms against the invisible walls of my prison as I steadied myself. A grunt sounded close behind me and something sharp pricked the back of my leg through my jeans. I gasped as I forced my feet to continue forward.

      “Hob!” Lady Nightwing grated from somewhere below me, a warning peal in her tone.

      The sound was a relief to my ears as I struggled blindly toward her voice.