The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters

“Am I actually going to do this?” she asked.

“You can change your mind at any time.”

She expelled a long breath. “I can’t believe I’m going to actually do this …”

They went out back. The dark yard was modest, with a small pool that needed a serious skimming. Whether the sweat on Amber’s face was from the humidity or the trepidation, she couldn’t be sure. The rain had stopped, which allowed the cicadas to start singing again. Edgar led Amber to a patch of crabgrass and handed her the powder flask and a battered matchbook with a picture of a staircase on the front.

“All set,” he said.

She looked to Milo for instruction, but he just stood there, cool in the heat. Expecting either of them to correct her at any moment, she undid the stopper on the flask, crouched down, and began to pour.

The opening was small, and the fine black powder came out in a thin, steady stream. The warm breeze made the grasses ripple, but the powder flowed straight down like it was a perfectly still night. Amber turned 360 degrees, making sure not to leave any gaps, and when she finished she stood in the small circle and plugged the flask with the stopper. She held it out to Edgar, but he waved it away.

“Hang on to it until you’re done,” he said, and she hung the strap over her shoulder so that it dropped diagonally across her chest.

She took a match from the matchbook and crouched again. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking. She needed to pee. She looked up at Milo.

“See you when you get back,” he said.

Amber ran the head of the match across the sandpaper strip. The match flared, and with shaking hands she put the flame to the powder. It lit instantly, expelling a stench so violent it made her head turn. The fire spread from the point of contact in both directions, and she stood and watched it surround her. When the flames met and the circle was complete, the flames turned blue and she was indoors now, in a castle, its vast walls constructed of hewn stone, its ceiling too high to see, its thick wooden rafters swallowed by shadows.

In front of her were five arched doorways with corridors like the fingers of a splayed hand. Tapestries hung on the walls, depicting various acts of depravity, their shock value immediately shamed by the even more gruesome images captured in the stained glass of the long windows that sliced through the wall above.

It was cold here. The sweat that had layered her body in the Miami heat was now making her shiver. Her breath crystallised in small clouds. She thought she was alone until she heard the giggle.

Someone was standing in the dark area between the doorways. Lurking.

“Hello?” she called. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It sounded like the voice of a scared child. “I … I see you. I can see you. Hello?”

The shape didn’t move.

From somewhere, from elsewhere, came the sound of screaming, a chorus of pain carried to her on the wind. It was gone almost before it had registered.

“Hello,” said the shape.

It came forward, into the light. Tall and thin, a genderless thing, wearing a patchwork robe that may have been a gown. Heavy make-up, black and badly applied, rimmed its eyes, while its thin mouth was smeared with red lipstick. The foundation it used covered the entirety of its bald head in a thick grey-white that may have been ash.

“Are you the Shining Demon?” asked Amber.

The curious thing gave a high-pitched titter, covering its mouth with long-fingered hands.

“No, no, no,” it said in its curious voice. “No, no. But he knows you’re here.”

“Where am I?”

Another titter. “In his castle.”

“Is this hell?”

“To some. What’s your name?”

“Amber.”

“Hi, Amber. I’m Fool.”

“Hi, Fool.”

“Do you want to play with me?” Fool asked. “I know lots of games. Do you want to play Who Can Scream the Loudest? I’m very good at that. Or maybe Who Can Bleed the Most? I bet you’d win. I’ll give you a head start, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Step out of the circle, Amber.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” said Fool, moving closer. “Step out of the circle.”

Fool smiled. Its teeth were small shards of coloured glass sticking out from bloody gums.

It turned its head suddenly, its eyes narrowing. From one of the corridors came a glow.

“He’s here,” Fool whispered, and without giving Amber another glance it sprinted from the room.

Amber fought the urge to run, even though every instinct in her body was screaming at her. She watched as the glow got brighter, then turned, lowering her head while her hands shielded her eyes. The room was suddenly lit up. From behind her, the light tread of bare feet.

“You seek an audience with me,” came a voice. Male. Hushed.

“Yes,” she croaked out, closing her eyes. “I’m … I …”

“I know who you are, child. I know why you’re here. You seek protection from those who would harm you.”

She nodded. Her mouth was so, so dry. “My parents. And their friends.”

“I know them, too,” the Shining Demon said. “So eager. So ruthless.” His brightness soaked through her eyelids. It hurt. “You are the first to have escaped their platter. The first to find your way to me.”

“I need your help.”

“But of course,” said the Shining Demon, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I am the only one who could possibly help you. I am your only hope, am I not? Come, Amber, let me show you my castle.”

“I … I was told to stay in the circle.”

“Mmmm. Yes. Wise, I suppose.”

“Where are we?” she asked. “Is this hell?”

“Questions, questions,” said the Shining Demon. “Such an inquisitive species, the living. The dead have no need for questions. The dead are quite content in their gentle ignorance.” He was walking now, circling the circle in which she stood. Amber didn’t speak. She had the feeling he wasn’t finished.

“This is his kingdom,” the Shining Demon continued. “The one known by many names. My dark and terrible master.”