its way into the center of me and filled me with despair. Another Xolo lay on the floor of its cage, its eyes wide and staring, its light dull and dim. One of the creatures turned in circles inside its cage, first one way and then the next, whimpering quietly.
It took everything I had not to draw Ned and start shooting. I glanced at Adan and saw the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. The spirits in the room didn’t even look at the Xolos. They talked quietly in their little groups and drank champagne. They laughed. I saw the woman in the red dress and barbed wire and the man with the skin mask. The others I didn’t recognize, but I vowed to remember them.
La Calavera walked over and stood in front of the cages. She raised her arms and the other spirits quickly took their seats. Adan and I sat close together on the stone bench. I took his hand and he held it tightly enough that I couldn’t reach for my gun.
“Welcome, friends,” La Calavera said. “Most of you are regulars here, but we do have some newcomers- Domino Riley and Adan Rashan, who come to us from the mortal world-so allow me to explain the rules of our little game.
There will be three fights-two dogs in each fight pitted against each other. All of you must place a wager on each fight, but you are, of course, free to choose the beast on which to place your bet. You may not place a wager smaller than the last bet on your chosen beast. The order of betting will be determined randomly. Each fight will continue until one dog is unwilling or unable to continue. At that point, all wagers will be settled and the winners will be paid by the losers in proportion to their original bet. The house takes any remainder. If there is anyone here who does not understand these rules, let him speak now.”
It was a clever betting scheme. There were no odds, but the rule that your bet must equal or exceed the one that came before it created an incentive to bet on the weaker dog since betting on the favorite would quickly escalate.
“How are the bets placed and the winnings recovered?”
I asked. I didn’t really want to draw attention to us, but the spirits were all eyeballing us anyway and the only stupid question is the one you don’t ask.
“That shall be demonstrated shortly,” La Calavera said, and everyone laughed. Everyone except Adan and me. “I will allow your names to be placed aside and drawn last for the first fight, so that you may see how the others wager.”
Given that the betting was going to escalate, betting last wasn’t an advantage-just the opposite. “You are kind, La Calavera,” I said, “but that won’t be necessary. If one of us is chosen first, just tell us what to do.”
La Calavera inclined her head. “As you wish. If there are no further questions, let us begin.”
The dogmen-both of them ghosts-went to the cages and looped heavy silver chains over the necks of the first two fighters. The Xolos were dragged to the pit and thrown inside, restrained by the dogmen behind the scratch lines carved into the stone. The Xolo on the left was the one that had been lying on its side in the cage. When its handler lifted it and dropped it into the pit, it collapsed again. The other Xolo strained against the chain around its throat, baring its teeth and growling.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered to Adan, “I’m not sure I can do this.”
“We have to,” Adan said, squeezing my hand. “If we’re going to help them, we have to get through this.”
“How about we kill all these motherfuckers instead?”
“Then we’ll probably die, and even if we don’t we’ll never find the other Xolos. There are only six of them here.”
“Okay, but promise me I can kill them later.”
“Promise,” Adan said. “I’ll help.”
Another ghost brought a golden bowl to La Calavera. She reached inside and drew out a small, white card. “The first to wager is Valafar,” she said.
A remarkably fat, middle-age man in a charcoal suit and lionskin cloak stood and waddled over to the pit. The other spirits groaned. The pelt taken from the lion’s head and mane draped over the man’s shoulders, and golden fur cascaded down to his ankles. Other than the cloak and his substantial girth, I couldn’t see anything particularly unusual about him. Then he turned to the spectators and smiled. His eyes were on fire and a serpentine tongue licked out between yellow, jagged fangs.
Valafar stepped into the pit and walked over to the Xolo that was straining against its chain. He knelt awkwardly as only a truly fat man can and grasped the chain around the dog’s neck in both hands. Then he leaned in and bared his throat to it. The Xolo snarled and savaged him, shaking its head from side to side and spattering the stone with black juice. The man craned his neck and watched me, still smiling, as the Xolo consumed him.
It went on for quite a while. Finally, Valafar tore his throat away from the dog and wiped the spatters of black magic from his cloak and suit, licking it from his fingers with his forked tongue. Then he struggled to his feet and returned to his seat, still smiling. The flesh of his throat was whole again, but I could see he was diminished even without using the sight. He’d placed a big bet.
The betting continued and I realized it was a perversion of the Xolos’ sacred gift, the ability to tear the divine spark from an earthly vessel whose time had come to move on. This was why La Calavera needed Xolos for the fights. Other creatures, like the barghests, could chew on you all day and they’d never be able to take that part of you into themselves, to hold it and keep it safe. Only the Xolos could do that. La Calavera had used that and made it an abomination. It was something only a truly evil mind could conceive.
Mine was the seventh name to be called. All of the betting had so far gone to the same Xolo, the one that was as close to a sure thing as you could probably get. The wagers had escalated quickly, but I could see why the other players would prefer to risk a large bet on a heavy favorite. Maybe I didn’t want to play that big or maybe I just have a thing about the underdog, but I put my juice on the nearly catatonic Xolo. I knelt beside him, stroked his sides and scratched behind his ears. He flinched the first time I touched him and then lay still.
He didn’t stir when I leaned in and showed him my throat. I heard a scattering of laughter from the spirits in the stands. I bent down until my lips were next to his ear. “We both have to do this, puppy,” I whispered. “We have to get through this, we have to stay alive, and then very soon I will make it better. I don’t know if you can understand me, baby, but I promise this to you.”
I heard a soft whine and felt a tongue on my face. My vision blurred, though I didn’t have any tears in the Between. “Do it, puppy,” I said. “You won’t hurt me.” And it was true. It didn’t hurt. The Xolo was gentle and he lacked the strength to take very much. When it was over, I kept petting him for a few moments. He didn’t feel like a dog-touching him was like touching warm sunshine. “Stay alive, puppy,” I whispered. “Remember what I said. Just stay alive.”
I returned to my seat in a daze and shut down my mind for a while. I was aware enough to hear the sounds the Xolos made when they hurt each other. I knew when it was over and my dog lost. It didn’t take very long. The players weren’t happy with the meager sport, and I heard their curses. I knew what was happening when the winners went down to claim their take from my Xolo. They did it just as the dogs had taken the bets from us, only with far more cruelty. I remember thanking a God I didn’t really believe in that I hadn’t won.
I’d done a lot of bad things in my life. I wasn’t an innocent. I didn’t dwell on it, I didn’t cry about it, but I knew there was evil inside me. Maybe it had always been there or maybe I’d had a choice somewhere along the line and I’d done it to myself. It didn’t matter-it was there all the same. I’d thought I could give my life some meaning, some purpose, by turning that darkness against a darkness greater still. I couldn’t change what I was but I could be the lesser of two evils. I could be the devil you know.
But here’s the thing about doing battle against the forces of evil. It’s not always a clean fight against a cackling villain or fanged horror. Sometimes fighting the darkness means you have to get all the way down in it, and it clings to you like tar, it stains you, and it never goes away. There might be a reckoning later. You might exact some measure of justice. But once you go down into that pit, you leave a little bit of yourself there and you bring some of the pit back out with you. I could live for six thousand years, just like my boss, and I knew I’d never be able to forget what I saw that night.
Adan and I both placed our bets carefully and we managed to go oh-for-three on the night. When the games were finished, there was more champagne and casual mingling. I fed on my hate, and the spirits took the light in my eyes and the evil smile on my face for enjoyment. They consoled me on my losses and congratulated me on always playing the long shot. They said I had style.
The players were beginning to depart when La Calavera came to us. “How did you enjoy the evening’s sport?”
