* * *
Rian screamed, Cassie cursed, and someone kicked Casanova in the head. That last was Rosier, who had leapt into the hole after them, even as Casanova hauled the damned girl against his side, preparing to jump back up. But they were falling too fast, the rock rushing by in a blur, the square of slightly less dark above their heads rapidly diminishing as his feet struggled for purchase on nothing more than—
Than a solid piece of perforated metal.
He stared at it for a split second, uncomprehending. It was dull gray, except for splotches of rust and bits of red soil that were flying up to hit him in the face. It suddenly dawned on him that they were on some type of platform—it was too kind to call it an elevator—that was plunging with wild but possibly not life threatening speed into the heart of the mountain.
Which would have been quite a relief if their passenger wasn’t about to murder them all.
“Why are you just standing there?” Cassie yelled, as Rosier got unsteadily back to his feet.
This is it, Casanova thought blankly. He was going to die. He was going to die hearing that voice bellowing at him, and the knowledge that she would probably swiftly follow him into the hereafter was exactly no consolation at all.
“Where do you go if you die in Hell?” he wondered aloud, only to have her sink those tacky pink nails into him.
“Do something!”
“What would you suggest?” Casanova demanded.
“Beat him up!”
“Demon lord,” he pointed out, and Rosier grinned.
“Not now! He can’t use magic!”
“Like hell he can’t!” Casanova had bruises that said otherwise.
“Not in here!” she said furiously. “Rian said—”
Casanova didn’t get to hear what wisdom his demon might have imparted, because Rosier took that moment to spring across the platform and take a swing at his head. Which, for a being as powerful as he was supposed to be, seemed a little clumsy. Casanova ducked with vampire speed and glanced at the girl.
“Can’t use magic?” he asked. She shook her head frantically, as the demon snarled and spun on a dime, coming back at Casanova.
Who calmly punched a hole through his face.
Or, at least, he would have, had the creature been human. The blow didn’t appear to have had the same effect in this instance, although it did send him flying back against a rusted support beam. Casanova couldn’t be sure, because they were moving too swiftly, but he rather thought that particular beam might have a Rosier-shaped dent from now on.
But the demon shook it off and staggered back into the middle of the platform, glaring and holding his jaw. “Bastard,” he snarled.
“Vampire,” Casanova smiled and spread his hands.
So Rosier kicked him in the kidney.
Casanova gasped and thought about throwing up, while the girl grabbed a lever on the floor of the contraption and gave it a jerk. The platform shuddered, jolting them all and throwing the demon off his pale gray Prada loafers. Nice, Casanova thought, before picking him up by the lapels and shoving him into the side of the now even more briskly streaming rock face.
And holding him there.
The demon spat something Casanova decided to ignore because he was enjoying the sound of jagged rock grating his victim’s backside. It made up for some of the pain in his own. At least it did until the vile, unprincipled son of a bitch kneed him in the nuts.
Casanova stared at him out of watering eyes. “Who does that?” he screeched, in disbelief.
“Demon,” Rosier said pleasantly. Then he did it again.
Casanova staggered back, trying to tell if he was still intact, only to have his arms grabbed by the girl. “You can take him!” she said, turning him back around.
“You take him!” he told her shrilly, as Rosier sprang off the wall.
He landed on his feet, like the cat he had always vaguely resembled, and he was in a cat-like crouch, too. Making it impossible for Casanova to return the favor. So he kicked him in the side of his perfectly coifed blond head instead, sending him sprawling. And then the girl surprised him by copying his action, only aiming for the villain’s side, obviously trying to shove him through the narrow gap between the platform and the wall.
And all right, occasionally she did have a good idea, Casanova thought, moving to help. Only to have Rian grab him in a metaphysical clinch, freezing his legs halfway through a step. We’re going to have to talk, he thought grimly, as he toppled to the floor right by her master.
Who promptly poked him in the eye.
The demon cackled, Casanova cursed, and Cassie grabbed him by the arm, trying to haul him back up. But only succeeded in ripping the sleeve off a very expensive shirt. “She’s the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t she?” Rosier asked, and punched him in the throat.
“What is your problem?” Cassie demanded, glaring at him.
Casanova glared back out of his one good eye, tempted to tell her exactly what his problem was, assuming he could still talk. But then the infernal device they were on came to a very abrupt halt. The three of them with bodies went tumbling off the platform and into the middle of a rough stone floor.
It was warm for some reason, and was giving off a strange sort of ghost light that sent grotesque shadows jumping along the walls. But Casanova barely noticed. He also wasn’t paying any attention to the girl’s shrieks or the demon’s curses. He was too busy staring at the half-eaten face that was all of an inch from the end of his nose.
It didn’t move, which was the only thing that kept him from gibbering. But he was close, thanks to the greenish color of the rotting flesh. Not to mention the missing eye, the caved in nose and the cracked skull that had oozed something he deliberately didn’t look at all down the still mostly intact side of the face…
“What is that smell?” Cassie asked, grabbing him. She sounded a little freaked.
Join the club he thought, noting that the corpse hadn’t died alone. Half rotten bodies littered the floor of the not-insubstantial-sized room. More lay slumped against the walls or piled in heaps, like so many empty bottles, tossed aside after the yummy contents were consumed...
“Casanova,” she said urgently. She apparently couldn’t see too well, even with the faint light. And didn’t he just envy her that right now?
That was especially true after he caught sight of a couple of bodies sitting against the nearest wall. Some of the corpses were old enough to be truly putrescent, but these were newly dead, their blank, staring eyes shining in the dim light, the shadows painting little half smiles on their faces. Like they were welcoming him to the party—
“Did you hear me?” Cassie demanded, shaking him. And something in Casanova finally snapped.
“Shut up!” he screamed, rounding on her. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! Or I swear I’ll save Rosier the trouble and kill you my—”
“Be silent!” someone hissed, and a hand clasped over his mouth, causing his eyes to bulge in sheer unadulterated fury. Until he realized that it was far too large to be Cassie’s. But before he could throw it, and the demon it was attached to, against the nearest wall, he heard something that would have stopped his heart in his chest had it been beating.
“What was that?” Rian whispered, sounding a lot more nervous than a demon had any right to.
Casanova didn’t answer. His vocal chords didn’t seem to work all of a sudden, but it didn’t matter. He doubted that she wanted to know that the faint shushing sound was the drag of scales over an uneven floor. A lot of scales.
Dinner is served, he thought blankly, as something huge blocked out the faint light from the corridor.
“Well, fuck,” Rosier said.