ANGEL CAKE
Or The Deadly Hellacious Bake-Off Alicia Hilton emons judged the Hellacious Bake-Off, so the rules were subject to capricious interpretation and corporal punishment was routine. The contest always ended with at least one death. Most contestants sought the honor of being awarded second place and relished the opportunity for a brief respite from the dank catacombs where they toiled. You had to be barking mad or totally desperate to covet the winner’s prize, an opportunity to be executed and reincarnated, but Phixa understood that if she won she’d likely be transformed into a dung beetle. At least she would be freed from her misery. A mortal existence as a humble insect, scurrying through dust and eating manure, couldn’t be worse than eternal imprisonment in Hell and suffering from unrequited love. Entering the Underworld’s most perilous contest was the only way Phixa could prove that she had repented and was no longer a monster. She’d bartered all of her Earthly and Underworldly possessions, even the sarcophagus that had contained her corpse, in exchange for one lottery ticket—the chance she would receive the “special” ingredient that would make her confection the most delectable of all Hell Cakes. Phixa stared at the other contestants. Contestant #3, the basilisk, hissed and opened its jaws, displaying jagged teeth. Phixa pressed her paws together, trying to contain her nervous energy. Torches cast eerie shadows across the subterranean amphitheater. Judges
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