One of the demons shoved me hard in the small of my back, forcing me onto the arena floor. I stumbled forward, just catching myself from falling. The pixie followed. She might be a hardened killer but she was shaking. We both were.

I didn’t know how many eyes were on us but it seemed like hundreds. Everyone was silent, which was more frightening than the thunderous cheering I’d heard before. I swung round, taking in every inch of the crowd. The air was filled with hovering demons, all of whose attention was fixed on me. I ignored them for now. If this was like a Roman gladiatorial venue, there would be an obvious spot for the very important demons. As I turned to my left, I saw them.

There was a dais, elevated a few metres above the rest of the audience no doubt to keep the elite from being splattered with all that pesky blood or to protect their delicate nostrils from the smell. The combined body odours of all these Lowlanders rivalled the bucket in the cell.

Without the night vision that I assumed everyone else enjoyed, it was difficult to make out much about the demon leaders. There were six seated figures that possessed the same wiry, skeletal bodies as the rest of the Fomori. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell much more about them. I squinted, narrowing my eyes to see more, but it was a wasted effort.

There was a single harsh shout, which sounded like a heartfelt curse, from one of the audience members behind me. That yell opened the floodgates and they all began roaring and chanting again. Far too many tried to throw things. If the projectiles had been rotten eggs or squishy tomatoes that might have been okay but these were stones. With the force that they were being thrown, I’d only need to be hit once in the wrong place and I’d be a goner.

I bobbed and dodged. A small pebble glanced off my shoulder – it still bloody hurt. The pixie yelled, a figure of unmitigated fury. I had to admire her tenacity. She whirled round while I ducked yet another missile.

Just as I was starting to think we’d be stoned to death, a loud horn sounded. The stone hurling stopped and a loud cheer ran round the crowd. They began to stamp their feet, one after the other in perfect timing.

‘Here it comes,’ the pixie muttered.

There was a shudder from the other end of the arena and I saw a rusty-looking gate heave upwards. A furious bellow from the dark corridor beyond was followed by a snort. I licked my lips. ‘What is that?’

The pixie’s response was unequivocal. ‘Monster.’

She wasn’t wrong. The thing that emerged was something out of my worst nightmares. It had some of the features of a Fomori demon but it wasn’t like any of the ones I’d seen before. For one thing, it seemed to be twice the size of the others. Its body was crisscrossed with scars, some gouged so deeply into its flesh that it was a wonder the wounds had ever healed. It was wearing a covering around its groin which I doubted had anything to do with modesty. It wore enormous boots, studded with sharp nails; its face, contorted into a snarl, spoke of darkness and pain.