After a couple steps he bumped into me, as though pushed. I glanced back to see Two Heads looking around in confusion. Both sets of eyes came to land on me, and a flash of anger took over. “Hey!” it said.

“Sorry, buddy.” I took a step back and gave an olé gesture, clearing the way for him. “After you, please. I insist.”

“How many tickets did you get?” One set of eyes dipped down to my hand holding the tickets, and the other looked around. “I don’t see no friend of yours.”

“He’s shy.” I slipped the tickets into my pouch. “He’ll be in soon.”

“You know what they do to those who are greedy.”

“Feed them to the lion?”

“Yes.”

I nodded with a frown. “Not a lot of originality in this place, huh?”

Both faces gave me a confused look that turned into hostility. “I will be watching you.”

“And coming from you, that’s saying something.”

He moved down the aisle toward the performance area at the bottom. I thought he’d stop at the first few rows, clearly excited for the show. Instead, he continued on, crossing the circular area and disappearing through a flap in the back.

My stomach turned over. “Not good.”

We had best go.

Yes, we had, because if we didn’t, I had a feeling we’d be part of the coming act. I couldn’t ride a unicycle, and I certainly couldn’t do it carrying a bunch of scantily clad women. I’d be found out or ridiculed, and I wasn’t interested in either.

We moved around the top, behind the last row of bench seats, making for an opening. Once there, I tried to pull at a flap, but wire held it fast.

Nothing my sword couldn’t fix.

It was a testament to how dazed this place made me that I couldn’t remember putting my sword away.

Hurry, Darius thought, and I felt a firm hand on my arm. People are filing in now.

His heart started to thump faster.

I pulled out my sword in a quick, practiced motion and slashed it at the wires. The sword cut through them as easily as it did Jell-O. I knew from experience.

I ripped the flap back as Darius thought, Go!

Before I could dash through the newly created opening, air condensed around me weakly and held me in place.

“Do I break out of this?” I asked Darius through the side of my mouth.

He didn’t answer right away, and I knew it was because he was assessing the situation. Probably looking around to see who would notice, something I couldn’t see from my stuck-in-the-air-and-facing-the-flap vantage point.

Do not break out. Let us go with the flow for now.

Easy for him to say—he was invisible.

“Grab the ticket from my pouch.”

That will be noticed.

“So will the fact that I got two tickets for one me. That seemed to be a sticking point with my new friend.”

The air revolved me until I was looking at a demonic face shrouded in blond hair. The only other oddity, as far as those things went, was that it had human male genitalia that ended halfway down its legs…in a hand.

“Normally I would say that you didn’t try very hard, but you win the gross factor. That’s really…something.” I couldn’t look away. Until the hand flexed into a fist. “Yikes. You give cock punch new meaning.”

“You took a ticket. You must fight,” the creature said.

I expected shivers of fear. Instead, I felt shivers of excitement. Am I smiling?

Three Fists turned and made its way to the nearest aisle. The air, so weak that it almost couldn’t hold me, dragged me behind it, scraping my boots against the ground.

“You will want to release me from this hold,” I said in a rough voice while trying to keep control of my power. “It is making me angry.”

It ignored me, thumping me down the stairs.

Close your eyes and focus on me, Reagan, Darius thought, following behind. Focus on me. Don’t let your power loose. Not now.

I did as he said, sinking into the feel of his steady heartbeat. His comforting presence.

All the while, my rage thumped in time to bim-bom, bim-bom, bim-bom.

“We need to find a loving sect,” I muttered. “Maybe a lustful one. Certainly a quiet one. The rage is getting out of control.”

“That is why you are here, is it not? To let the rage out of control?” Three Fists hissed, and I got the feeling this was him excited. “Wrath. Violence. Blood.”

“I just want to go on my way.”

“You will, soon enough. Unless you can rise up and claim your worth.”

I had no idea what that meant.

Three Fists used his air hold to move me across the performance area and through the flap. Darius followed. Several demons, including Two Heads, were crowded in a sort of holding area. The air hold released me and Three Fists pointed at a line forming to the side. “Wait in that line.”

“Is someone going to give me instructions before I go out? I’ve never been here before.”

“Wait in line. Go through. Kill the creature, or die trying.”

“Simple enough.” I shuffled to the back of the line, already a dozen people deep and continuing to grow. Darius shadowed me. “So all these people are waiting to fight some creature and hoping not to die?”

The creature in front of me, a plain-Jane demon compared with the rest of the lot, looked back. It must’ve thought I was talking to it, because it answered. “Are you fresh from the Brink?”

“Yes?”

It turned back around. “Did your maker send you here to prove yourself?”

“…Yes?”

It nodded. “It is trying to kill you. No one from the Brink stands a chance against one of its kind.”

“Its kind being a demon, or being the creature we’re about to fight?”

“Generally both. Humans are weak. Their pleasures might delight us for a moment, but mixing their blood with ours”—it spat, a glob of green—“is the worst offense. You are an abomination. Your human half will ensure you die a horrible death.”

“You forgot to say no offense at the end of that. It’s only polite, really.” A roar drowned out the music for a moment, and even though it was probably a bad thing, I couldn’t help but enjoy the reprieve. A crowd cheered. At least, I assumed that was what all the banging and thumping and scratchy or guttural yells meant. “And why are you here?”

“To prove to my sect that I am ready to rise in power.”

“You think you can kill the creature, then?” Another roar drowned out the music. The crowd banged and jeered.

“No one kills the creature.”

Three Fists came through the flap we were all waiting in front of and spoke to the first contestant. A ticket was handed over and Three Fists motioned the creature—who, like my half-blood-hating buddy, wasn’t wearing circus paraphernalia—through.

“Right. Okay.” I chewed my lip, thinking over the things I’d heard. “But you either kill the creature, or die trying, right? So that means you were also sent here to die. Hello, pot.”

Another roar preceded a collective gasp, followed by wild banging and cheers. A moment later, Three Fists was back, looking for the next contestant.

That was fast.

Adrenaline coursed through me. I was about to go up against the creature that had made a lion quiver in fear.

“Did your creator tell you nothing?” The demon ahead of me glanced back while making a distinctly mocking sound. It made me want to punch it with Three Fists’ third fist, if it could be arranged. “You must last for one cycle to claim victory.”

“Ah.” So Three Fists was a broad-strokes kind of guy. “How many people make it through?”

“A quarter or less of those who make the attempt. Have no fear. You will be added to the list of those who don’t.”

We stepped forward. “You like me, don’t you? I can tell. No, no.” I held up my hand as it glanced back. “Don’t get freaked out. I have a sixth sense where it concerns demons. I can read you buggers from a mile away. You want to be my bestie.”

It spat again.

The roaring creature moved through the contestants at an alarming pace. Only a few made us wait, causing the crowd to gasp and moan. Two Heads didn’t make the cut. The cheering for those who lived was not nearly as loud as for those who probably died a gruesome death. It was clear what this crowd was into.