Devil Ash Disarray (Devil Ash Saga Book 3) (25 page)

Chapter Eighteen: Going For A Walk

“Racers to the starting line!” the megaphone girl boomed.

Aura strode with swagger, hoping to enchant a few honeys on his way to the starting line. His hopes were pretty well dashed after arriving at his destination and seeing his arch nemesis Bora standing there waiting patiently.

After a moment of dismay hit him, Aura began to consider the situation. Here he had a real shot at showing up Bora once and for all. He had no idea how the rest of the race would go. No clue what order his old gang was racing in, either. But he was sure of one thing.

Bora was going
down
.

“Fancy meeting you here,
again
,” said Aura as he stepped into the lane next to Bora.

“Hiya Aura,” Bora replied. “Would you look at that? We’re in the same leg of the race! Isn’t that nice?”

“
So
nice.”

“Maybe after the race you can join us at Eastside’s Eatery for some authentic East Hell Clawbster.”

“Maybe after the race
you
’ll be too busy weeping into a pillow.”

Bora ignored the comment and started stretching. “I know what you’re doing,” he replied, raising a knowing eyebrow. “I know you think I’m replacing you,  but that’s
not
the case.”

A moment passed where neither of them spoke. The other racers were all gathered around in their lanes. Five racers total. Each one stood several feet apart in a straight line facing their first hoop checkpoint, suspended high off the ground by a pole.

“It’s a free kingdom, isn’t it?” Aura replied with a shrug. “I don’t have to be your friend if I don’t want to.”

While Bora digested his rival’s words, a festival attendant handed out batons to each of the racers. Another employee manning the megaphone prepared to start the race.

“Racers,
ready
!”

Aura and his competition prepared to run.

“Wings,
set
!”

All of the racers brought out their wings in unison.

“
Goooooo
!”

The racers took off sprinting. No clear frontrunner emerged. The mad dash didn’t last long though as the racers took to the sky, beating their wings to get level with the first hoop.

This was where it got tricky. Only one racer could fly through the hoop at a time. They would have to take turns, but obviously couldn’t politely discuss the matter beforehand. They had to feel out the right time to go for it and hope no one else was aiming for the hoop at the same moment.

Aura was at the head of the crowd. He felt confident he’d be the first to pass through the hoop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something rocket past him spiraling like a football. The racer tucked his wings in closely to fit through the narrow hoop. Once through he spread his wings wide and flapped powerfully, keeping himself aloft.

“
Bora
,” the death toucher cursed. He wanted to be the first to pass through the hoop. Now he’d have to settle for second. The crowd roared like wild demons as Aura flew through the hoop, followed by the rest of the racers.

The course route ran down the street and around the next corner. Fans cheered from below as the racers soared by overhead charging toward the next hoop. This one was lower to the ground. Aura adjusted his wings to lose altitude, gaining speed as he glided down. Bora’s feet were only an inch away from his face, but there was no way to pass him.

Yet
.

Aura bided his time waiting for the right moment to overtake Bora. He came close after turning the first corner, when Bora made a slight miscalculation in his direction that set him back a second.

By this point they were away from the crowded streets and flying high above building tops. The majority of the hoops were attached to roofs, with a few of them diverging through some tight alleyways or between buildings. Spectators watched from every conceivable angle. Diehard fans held brilliantly painted signs advertising their favorite athlete.

Aura closed in on his nemesis as they flew above a row of buildings. The next three hoops were arranged in a weaving pattern. Each hoop was at a slightly different height as well. The death toucher followed Bora’s lead by banking to the right to clear the first hoop, lowered altitude and banked left for the second hoop, and beat wings to rise to the third hoop.

The racers continued following the hoop course until the scenery changed from dilapidated old buildings to dirt and rocks everywhere. They were leaving the ramshackle scenery of South Hell behind and entering West Hell, the rocky section of the kingdom built throughout a winding canyon. The first leg of the race was almost over now.

The racers glided over stone structures, some of which were built straight into the canyon wall surrounding them. Aura spotted the final two hoops up ahead. The first was attached to the side of a building three stories off the ground. The hoop after that was placed at the top of the canyon wall they were approaching.

Aura made a split-second decision when he noticed the small ledge on the building below him. Instead of tucking in his wings as he passed through the hoop, Aura recalled his wings into his back. He somersaulted through the hoop, landing on his feet and breaking out into a mad dash on the building ledge below. Focusing his soul power to his legs, Aura leapt like a rocket taking off.

He shot past Bora and started flapping his wings with his remaining stamina. Bora, still recovering from the quick ascent, was powerless to keep up. Aura reached the top of the canyon wall first, blasting through the last hoop of the leg and gliding over the rocky ground below.

He could see Shiva waiting for him ahead at the edge of another cliff. Of all the racers in waiting there, she was the only one not turned around watching for the incoming teammates. She stood ready to run, hand stretched out behind her back. Aura remembered the order she’d given him just before the start of the race.

Just make sure you get the baton to my hand
.

Sars was down there too. Aura’s former best friend was next to run after Bora. He looked back with a troubled expression seeing Aura coming in first. He was the first to take off running, still looking back for his partner to deliver the baton.

Shiva stayed put while everyone else broke out running. Instead, she brought out her wings and crouched low to the ground. A glowing steam-like substance billowed off her legs and Aura knew at once what she was planning.

The death toucher glided in low and dropped to the ground. His wings were dead tired so he put them away. He used one final burst of stamina and started screaming as he ran the baton to Shiva. “Go go go go
go
!”

He slapped the baton down on the girl’s palm. Her hand snapped shut like a vice grip and she was off. With her wings positioned at the ready, one thrust of her leg muscles was all it took to make the girl fly. She fired like a bullet from the ground, up and over the other runners still sprinting with their heads turned. Before any of them made contact with a teammate, Shiva was already dropping off the side of the cliff heading for her first hoop.

While the race was underway in other parts of the kingdom, over in East Hell the racers of the last leg were waiting patiently for their turn. Ash had been waiting for almost an hour already. It wasn’t a long walk over from South Hell. Though Uverstarr had accompanied him most of the way, the boy said little on their walk.

Ash stood with the other four racers on the boardwalk next to the pier. The ocean connected to East Hell was a terrifying sight. Ash had once been informed that no one in history had ever been to the other side. He dreaded the possibility that one day Goddard might assign them the job of accompanying a fishing boat out on a trip. The boat captains often hired bodyguards whose sole job was to fend off the horrifying sea demons that dwelled in the deep.

A shiver ran down Ash’s spine just thinking about it. He tried to avoid gazing out into the water. Turning his head only treated him to a swell view of Dunger. The giant muscley man and Ash had many run-ins in the past, most of which involved Ash feeling some type of pain.

Dunger stared daggers at Ash. The man never spoke, unless you count the barbaric grunting he was known for. Ash smiled nervously back at him. Dunger’s nostrils flared. The guy just really
did not
like Ash for some reason.

Ash became bored. He started to look around, anything to avoid Dunger’s gaze. On top of the long wait, standing so close to the ocean was starting to have an unfortunate side effect on him. The sound of the waves churning against the shore over and over resonated with his bladder.

Damn it
, Ash thought, twisting uncomfortably.
Why’d I have to have that second cup of coffee
?
Is this race going to start anytime soon or what
?

The boy shifted in place, twisting and turning his legs trying to look casual. He swore he saw a smirk flash across Dunger’s face for a brief second, but couldn’t be sure. That only agitated him more. He searched the crowd looking for a clock. He was given an
approximate
time his leg of the race was expected to start, but no way of telling the time.

“
Attention athletes
,” a voice from somewhere unseen boomed through a megaphone. “
The race is officially underway. Your estimated start time is ten minutes from now.
”

“Oh thank goodness,” Ash said with a sigh of relief. He located a bathroom sign nearby and decided to go for a short walk. An arrow pointed him through the crowd toward a side street. Ash fought through scores of people clapping him on the back and greeting him happily. He was flattered by his newfound fame, but sometimes he wished it would just go away. Specifically when it got in the way of him and a toilet.

He made it to where the first sign pointed and turned the corner. There he found a significantly less active street. He was thankful for that. Another sign greeted him as well. The comforting image of a toilet icon was painted under the arrow. Following it led Ash down a sidewalk that passed by a warehouse. Rows of steel shutters remained closed because of the festival. Any other day the fisherman would be there peddling their daily catches.

A final sign pointed him down a deserted back alley between warehouses. Though he could still hear the dull chattering of the nearby crowd, he could see no one. He walked down the alley but could not find the door to the bathroom. There were plenty of other unmarked doors to choose from though. One opened into a tiny storage closet that smelled like demon dung. Another opened into some kind of boiler room. He tried another door that was padlocked shut.

“Where’s the damn toilet already!” the boy shouted in frustration.

“
Your desires no longer matter
,” replied a voice from somewhere unseen.

Ash turned around, searching for whoever spoke. It was a man’s voice, he was sure of that much. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew though. The stranger stepped forward from the adjoining alleyway, out of the darkness.

“
You and I have matters to settle
,” said the old baker.

It took a moment for Ash to recall exactly where he’d seen this man before. When he thought back to earlier that morning and how he’d bought breakfast for his friends, he recalled the way the old baker repeated their order. His face wasn’t smiling anymore, but it was definitely the same guy.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Ash. “Look, I know what this is about. You
accidentally
gave me a five-skorch coin for change instead of one skorch. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it myself until I was already clear across town. I was
going to
bring it back, I swear.”

“Your business is not with my host,” the man said. He took another step closer. “Your business is with
me
.”

“Huh?” Ash replied. He wanted to elaborate with a follow-up question but it never happened.

The boy coughed. It was deep and turbulent. Blood sprayed from his open mouth. His vision went dark, and then in seconds everything was too bright. It went back and forth like a strobe light playing in his head. His muscles ached and trembled, locking him in place until his knees buckled. The whole time he could only watch as the old baker moved closer.