Free The Stone Demon by Karen Mahoney

it.
    The distant sound of music reached her as they finally stopped at a pair of huge double doors.
    “Welcome to Pandemonium Crypt,” both women intoned. “Enjoy the masquerade and let yourself be seduced … ” They bowed in unison, gesturing that Donna should enter.
    The great black doors swung open and she walked through, alone.

    As she stepped into the room, Donna immediately forgot how much her shoes pinched her toes. She decided this must have been how Alice felt when she first set eyes on Wonderland.
    The air was thick with a cloying sweetness that almost made her choke. The ceiling swept far above her head, much of its wide expanse lost in shadows cast by flickering candles and the chandeliers that seemed to float suspended in the air. The ballroom seemed endless, in all directions, as if she could get lost if she wasn’t careful.
    There were floor-to-ceiling ivory pillars lining each wall. The floor was decorated with a mosaic in every shade of red that Donna could think of—and a few she’d never seen before. It looked as though someone had spilled blood across the entire space and then frozen it in place. The parts of the ceiling that were visible were midnight blue, and studded with tiny stars.
    It was stunning and macabre, and just a little overwhelming.
    The room was full of revelers of the sort she’d never even imagined. Donna had seen strange—she’d seen magical. But this … this was something else. Alien, twisted, and yet beautiful in spite of its strangeness. Perhaps even because of it. It was like walking into a storybook, where monsters really did exist and, if you looked hard enough, you might find a beanstalk.
    As that thought crossed her mind, Donna felt her gaze drawn to what looked like tree roots climbing the walls and spreading across the dome ceiling. She hoped there weren’t any giants around.
    Some of the people who filled the ballroom were dancing, whirling and spinning on the crowded floor. Others stood at the edges of the room, their masked faces close together as they shared secrets and laughed behind their hands. It was impossible to recognize anybody, but that was the point of a masquerade. Mystery. Magic.
    The masks took the shapes of wolves and goblins, bears and eagles, stags and foxes and dragons. But many of the masks depicted beings that Donna had never seen before, and she wasn’t sure these creatures actually existed—perhaps only in her nightmares. Some of them were so bizarre, she hoped she’d never come across them whether waking or sleeping.
    She walked cautiously in the direction of a small raised dais against one wall, waving away the servers, all dressed in black, as she remembered Miranda’s warning about not eating or drinking anything. The smell of sweet pastries and sticky-red wine was intoxicating, and she wished she could taste something, but the thought of being enchanted by demon curses was enough to squash that visceral urge. Donna knew that this kind of hunger wasn’t real; it was a hunger for oblivion rather than sustenance.
    On the dais, Demian sat on a throne that was carved from silver bones and threaded with black roses. His white suit made him look monochromatic, highlighted only by his onyx eyes and the single black rose in the lapel of his jacket. He was attended by beings who might have been demons or faeries, or even humans glamoured to within an inch of their lives. It was difficult to tell, what with everyone wearing such ornately carved masks.
    The Demon King was the only person in the room not wearing one. His face seemed made of marble anyway, Donna thought as she surreptitiously examined him, so it wasn’t like he needed to. It looked like someone had taken the sharpest knife in the world and carved his features, taking great care to get all the angles just right.
    His eyes came to rest on her and she saw the corner of his mouth flicker. He looked away and said something to a tall man standing beside him. The man nodded behind