Chapter 30 Yue
The element of surprise is a tactic demons know all too well.
My joints creak. There’s a terrible pressure threatening to burst through my skull like a hammer nailing a spike outward.
I can feel my pulse thudding in the tips of my fingers, causing them to swell.
I pry open my eyes, but see nothing. I’ve either gone blind or I’ve awoken in the dark. I’m not sure which is more terrifying.
“Little thief, awake at last,” a familiar voice claws into my ear. A chill runs down my spine. “My, you’ve grown into a fearsome thing.”
Someone snatches me up by the chin, fingernails digging into my cheeks.
I struggle against my restraints, which I realize is the stone body of the snake statue.
The demon has wrapped itself around me, pinning my arms at my sides in a vise.
I try to free myself, but the more I struggle, the harder it squeezes, forcing the breath from my lungs and crushing my bones.
My vision comes into focus just enough to reveal the Maskmaker’s face—he’s wearing Sonam’s.
Though they look perfectly identical, the Maskmaker’s cruelty seeps through the captain’s features like ink blotting fine linen.
Even at his worst, Sonam lacks this harsh a coldness.
“How dare you wear his face,” I hiss. “You’re still the same old coward hiding in fear.”
The Maskmaker scoffs, gripping my chin that much harder. “Hypocrite.” With a harsh yank, he rips my mask off my face. “I’ve missed this beautiful mask of mine. Did you really think you could steal it from me?”
“Give it back!” I snarl.
He ignores me, turning the porcelain over in his hands. He inspects it, clicking his tongue when he notices a few scratches along its left cheek. “Look what you’ve done. One of my best works, and you’ve gone and scuffed it.”
I grit my teeth. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“My humans.”
“Does it matter?” There’s a conniving glint in his eyes. Sonam’s eyes. I hate how he’s managed to twist them into something malicious. The Maskmaker grins that much wider. “I presume your little friends are dead by now. My army has been hungry for a very long time. Who am I to deny them?”
My rage almost gets the better of me, but then I think carefully.
He’s lying. If Sonam is dead, then the magic binding me to my vows would have struck me down, too.
He is alive somewhere. For how much longer, I cannot say, but at least not all hope is lost. I never thought I’d see the day when the deal I struck with Sonam would prove more help than hindrance.
There’s movement behind the Maskmaker. We’re not alone.
There are too many demons to count—maybe a hundred, if I had to venture a guess—milling about the empty room of the pavilion they’ve dragged me into.
An army, as he called it, flitting about in silence as they organize a massive pile of shining porcelain disks in the middle of the floor.
Masks. Thousands of them. Faces of men and women, young and old. It seems the Maskmaker has crafted quite the collection since we parted ways.
But to what end?
“Where are we? Let me go.” My words burn, my throat too tight. I can hardly breathe now that I’m trapped in the snake’s crushing embrace.
“No.”
“What do you want with me?”
“What do I want?” The Maskmaker laughs. “You, of course. I’ve been so worried about my little runaway. Let’s let bygones be bygones, and I’ll promise to take you back.”
I snarl. “Why would I ever want you to take me back?”
“My spies tell me that you’ve searched high and low for me. I’m sure you’re eager to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I shriek. “You had my sisters killed!” My six obsidian eyes sting with the threat of tears. There’s so much pressure inside my skull I fear they’ll burst from their sockets like grapes crushed in one’s fist.
“Yes, I did,” he replies matter-of-factly, not a trace of remorse to be found.
“But why?” I rasp. “Why did you—”
“You disobeyed me, Yue. I had to punish you.”
I may be a demon, born of shadows and an eater of flesh, but there’s nothing more terrifying than a god without feeling. I tremble beneath his dead stare, hating his use of Sonam’s face against me.
“All you had to do was listen,” the Maskmaker continues. “The blame falls on you.”
“No, that’s—”
He leans in close, just out of reach of my powerful jaws. “Was I not good to you? I masked you. Fed you. Loved you. And how did you repay me? By stealing my most prized mask and running off into the night. You made me do it.”
Errant tears streak my face, soaking into my fur.
No matter how hard I try to shrink from his gaze, there’s no escape.
Doubt creeps into my mind. It’s true that the Maskmaker once cared for me.
He saved my life. Protected me from those who would do me harm.
All he asked was that I eat. That I do what demons do best. What if I did bring this upon myself?
What if my sisters are dead because of my own stubbornness?
“There’s no need to cry,” he says. “As I said, I’m willing to forgive you.” He chuckles to himself. “I thank fate for sending you after me.”
I bite my tongue. “You do?”
“I have use for your teeth when we finally return to the surface.”
His words pull me from my thoughts. I stare at him in confusion. The mortal realm? What could he possibly…
I look around and take in all the ingredients of the Maskmaker’s recipe.
An army of starving demons with an arsenal of faces to conceal their true nature would spell disaster for mankind.
There’s no telling how many thousands that they’ll consume while disguised, and by the time the humans and even the Heavens above realize what’s come to pass, it will be too late.
They’ll be overrun. Not even the formidable Demon Hunter of Jian will be able to put a stop to it.
I eat humans, yes. But only ever enough to ensure my survival. The Maskmaker hopes to orchestrate a mass extinction.
I shake my head slightly, restricted by the snake’s punishing grip. “I won’t have any part in it.”
“Don’t be hasty. Take a moment to think it through.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” I snarl. “What you’re suggesting is madness.”
The Maskmaker laughs. There’s an unhinged glint in his eyes. “Was I not the one who taught you never to pity your food? You’ve gone soft.”
I wince when he reaches out and strokes the burn scars upon the side of my face. I resist the urge to bite at his fingers. “Don’t touch me.”
“You really won’t apologize?” he asks.
“I’d rather die.”
“How disappointing. I suppose I could feed you to the other demons. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. Unless…” He clicks his tongue and looks around the sparse landscape of the pavilion.
It’s by far one of the most underwhelming Courts of Hell I’ve seen. The furniture sits shoved aside. The delicate floral wallpaper is faded and peeling. I wonder if the star god tasked with running this place abandoned it long ago.
Then a thought occurs to me.
“This was your court,” I realize aloud. “Before you managed to escape Hell.”
“I never took kindly to being told what to do,” he says thoughtfully, stepping away to inspect the high ceiling.
A thick layer of dust powders the lanterns fixed to the walls.
“We have that in common, you and I. Do you have any idea how long Death had me trapped down here? Centuries upon centuries, tasked to torture all those filthy, disgusting human souls.” Disdain etches into Sonam’s regal features.
“I was a god. How dare he sully our hands.”
I cough, failing to ignore the distinctive snap and pop of one of my ribs. “If you hate it so much here, why did you come back?”
The Maskmaker shakes his head. “You won’t be around long enough to know, little fox.”
“You mean to kill me?”
“No,” he says finally. “Killing you is too merciful a punishment. I have something far better in mind.” The Maskmaker stalks toward me, bending over so that we’re face-to-face.
I freeze beneath his gaze, as terrified and helpless as I was in that pit all those years ago.
“I don’t have to lift a finger to hurt you, Yue. Your dreams will do it for me.”
A bone-deep exhaustion suddenly crushes me from head to toe. I can’t keep my eyes open. The more I struggle, the more it grips my mind. There’s no telling what horrors the Maskmaker might inflict while I’m asleep. But try as I might, there’s no fighting the spell he’s cast.
My head drops forward and sleep claims me roughly in its arms.