"Judas Priest!" Fiora said. "Why did you take a bite of the pie?"

  "I couldn't help it," Damon replied, inadvertently spitting out a fragment of cherry. The pie had suddenly shouted inside his mind:

  EAT ME ALIVE!

  And before he could form another conscious thought, including wondering how a pie could be 'alive', he grabbed it and chomped down the first half of the piece. "The pie told me to eat it. And it tastes amazing! Do you want some?" He swung the remains towards Kim, and she recoiled.

  "It will kill you," Fiora said.

  Damon stared at the remains of the cherry pie for several moments.

  EAT ME ALIVE! it said again.

  The pie was meant to be inside him. It was his destiny.

  "Don't!" Kim said.

  Damon shoved the rest of the cherry pie in his piehole, chewed several times, and swallowed. "I may never get another chance to eat pie," he explained. It continued to taste absolutely amazing.

  "You are not long for this world." Fiora didn't sound sad.

  "What's going to happen to Damon now?" Kim asked. He thought it was nice that she was concerned about him. "Will he become dangerous to us?"

  "His stupidity is a danger." Fiora stepped closer, and without asking permission, lifted Damon's eyelid. "It doesn't look like he was poisoned."

  "I feel normal," Damon said. He didn't mention the tingling in his mouth and a desire to eat a lot more pie. But that was a constant desire.

  Stand up, spawner, the pie said inside his head.

  He stood. There was no choice.

  Go to the wall.

  Damon walked toward the wall.

  "Damon?" Kim said. "What are you doing?"

  "We may have to behead him," Fiora said.

  Put your fingers against the wall, the pie commanded.

  Once he reached the wall, he could not stop himself from jamming his fingers against it. "All is fine," he said.

  "It's not fine." Fiora sounded depressed. "You have your fingers pressed against a bloodstone."

  "A what?" Damon said, and then a mouth, full of sharp teeth, appeared in the stone. The mouth laughed loudly and chomped down on his fingers, very much in the same way he'd chomped down on the pie.

  Bloodstone Bite: -2 damage to Damon

  Metal Health: 4

  His metal health had dropped. He felt weaker, which made it harder to pull his hand out of the mouth. I can't die from a bite on my fingers, can I?

  The next thing he knew, he was yanked backwards. "Lift your arm," Fiora hissed. Damon did so, discovering that a rounded section of stone was still stuck to his fingers.

  Fiora swatted it. The rock flew off his hand, shattered on the floor, and a mouth with lips as big as Mick Jagger's popped out. It scampered towards the door, shouting in a garbled manner, "Eat the rich! Ahhhh!" The last exclamation came when Fiora squished it underfoot.

  Damon looked at his hand. His middle and ring fingers were missing the tips. "Oh, no."

  "Never eat free pie," Fiora said, holding his arm and examining his hand. "Now close your eyes."

  "Why?" Damon asked.

  "You won't like this part."

  He squeezed his eyes closed and felt a moment of heat, heard some crackling, and smelled burnt pork.

  "Oh gross," Kim said.

  Damon opened his eyes. If he hadn't already been on the floor, he would have collapsed.

  "I sealed the wound." Fiora let his arm go. "No need to thank me."

  Damon stared at his burnt fingers.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Are you okay?" Kim was very pale.

  "Yes," he lied. "But I won't eat pie ever again."

  Fiora picked up the coins from the chest. She put five in a pouch on her belt and then handed a coin to each of them. Damon took his in his right hand. It had a stylized "metal horns" image on one side and what looked to be a stylized Flying V guitar on the other. "I hate giving coins to the soon to be dead, but these are Dio coins. They are magical and occasionally appear in the treasure chests."

  Damon dropped his coin into the little leather purse on his belt. So far, his burnt fingers only tingled.

  "Now grab your weapons, and we will depart this room, hadesbent for leather."

  Damon leaned on his staff. He had wielded it well; he told himself. At that point, a probability formula appeared in his mind. It wasn't floating above his head; it was from all his years of math classes. This formula told him it was a very low probability the next monster would have vulnerable eyestalks. Maybe they all have eye stalks, he thought. Then he glanced at Fiora, who clearly had no eyestalks. Math could be so depressing.

  Fiora was glaring at them. "This just will not rock," she said. She had her hands on her hips and reminded Damon a little of his mom when she caught him wearing a Slayer: Hell Awaits t-shirt for his first day of eighth grade. She had muttered that it had 'too many demons and too much blood and didn't match his pants.' Then Fiora said something Damon's mom had never said: "You'll be dead in moments and be no use to me."

  "What can we do to prevent our demises?" Damon asked. He hoped that using demises instead of death would make Fiora feel like he was adapting to the language of this new world.

  "Spend your Dio coins," Fiora said.

  "Spend our coins?" Kim was still holding hers in her palm.

  "I do tire of explaining everything," Fiora huffed.

  "It's the first time you've mentioned spending the coins to us." Damon reached into his belt wallet. It was big enough to carry a sandwich. He pushed the bandana to the side and retrieved the coin.

  Fiora puffed out another snort of anger. "Yes, but I've explained how the coins work to the other spawners. The many others. It's so obvious what the coins are for. Take them out."

  They held them in the torchlight.

  "Place the coin on your weapon."

  Damon did so, balancing it on the head of the staff. Kim followed his lead, placing her coin on the flat of her wooden blade.

  "Now say, 'Oh mighty Dio coin, make my weapon real.'"

  "What?" Kim said.

  "Oh, mighty Dio coin, make my weapon real," Damon repeated. Having played every role-playing game he could find time for, the incantation seemed as natural as chanting oi, oi, oi, whenever 'T.N.T.' played. The staff grew wider and thicker, and the change so surprised him it slipped from his hand and thudded onto the floor. The golden metal eagle was glowing now.

  "Oh, wow." Damon lifted the staff. Words had appeared above it:

  Screaming Eagle Staff of Wizardry and Metal Coolness +2 Spells, +2 Special Ability

  The eagle was stylized, with sharp familiar lines that made it look robotic. And the most wondrous thing was that he recognized this eagle. "I swear, and I know you'll think I'm crazy, but this is a replica of the screaming eagle from the cover of Judas Priest's eighth album, Screaming for Vengeance." He held the eagle right in front of his face. A tingle of electricity arced through his hand. It was as if the staff were alive. What he didn't mention to his companions was that his fingers were vibrating, even the ones missing a tip. And there were musical notes floating through his mind, connecting him to the staff.

  And then it hit him. It was a wizard staff! That was right there in the name. He looked up above his head. Those glowing words and numbers were still there, printed on a glowing album sleeve. He remained a Class 1 Mage, Spellbinder according to the classifications. It didn't matter where he looked on the album sleeve; there weren't any spells. He must need more mana to awaken them.

  "I dub thee the Screaming Eagle Staff," he said. He tapped the screaming eagle itself. Electrical sparks shot into his fingers. He tried to pull his hand away, but failed. The strains of the song 'The Hellion' rang momentarily, then with a thock sound, he yanked his fingers away.

  Metal from the eagle was dripping down his fingers. It formed metal fingertips and solidified.

  "Oh, it fixed your wound," Fiora said. "That's interesting."

  Damon stared at his newly minted metal fingertips. "It's so Tony Iommi."

  "What?" Kim asked.

  "Oh, it's nothing." He didn't want to explain that Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath had lost the same fingertips from his fret hand in an accident involving a guillotine-like press. And replaced them with special plastic and leather tips—it made his playing more metal and distinctive and changed the sound of heavy metal forever. But to explain that would make them think he was more insane.

  "Now metal up your weapon, female mortal," Fiona said. "And hold it tight!"

  Kim said, "Oh mighty Dio coin, make my weapon real."

  With a flash of light, she was now holding a real, sheathed sword. Its hilt was round, with tiny holes in the pommel. Kim let out a breathless oh then unsheathed it. The blade was shining with light, which Damon at first thought was magic, but soon realized it was the torches reflected off sharp, sharp edges.

  "It's not that heavy," Kim said.

  "Then it's a good blade," Fiora replied.

  Kim ran her finger along the edge. Damon decided she looked rather cool with that blade, like Red Sonja with blonde hair, but since he didn't know Kim that well he chose not to pass on the compliment. He wasn't good at giving women compliments. They often sounded creepy or confusing: "You look like you rolled a 20 on hairstyling" didn't always go over well. He brought up his Screaming Eagle Staff and stood beside her, wishing he could get a selfie.

  He looked above the blade:

  Strümbringer: Voice of Victory

  "Your blade is called Strümbringer," he said.

  "How can you have that knowledge?" Fiora asked.

  "Uh," Damon said. Then, he spotted a word etched on the sword that saved him from admitting his ability to see the floating letters and numbers. "It's etched right there on the blade."

  "Ah, yes," Fiora said.

  "Strümbringer," Kim said to the blade.

  "Maybe it's related to Stormbringer, the sword Elric used to wield in the Elric of Melnibone stories," Damon said. "Domine sang about it. Though Deep Purple's Stormbringer had nothing to do with the sword, it's still a great song."

  "I do not know what you're talking about," Kim said.

  "You see, there was this pale, melancholic character called Elric and—"

  "Yes, yes," Fiora interrupted. "The sword has a name. All swords have names! Just be happy it isn't cursed and flying through the air stabbing you repeatedly. Nor is it a singing sword; they're horrible and judgmental." She tilted her neck to the side, and it made a crick sound. "Now, into Hades we go."

  And, following that pep talk, she stepped through the hole where the door used to be.

  Damon, hoping he looked brave, followed right behind her, holding his Screaming Eagle Staff high.