by Amy Sumida
“Tasty!” The giant declared as he settled his gaze on me.
“What is this; Candy Crush?” I muttered.
“No more bets!” A man's voice came out of speakers all around me.
I glanced to my left—across from the Zone Lord's comfy viewing box—and saw a couple of beneathers standing in an open-air box at the lowest level of seats. A man and a woman. They looked human, although they couldn't possibly be, and a microphone was set before them.
“We have a treat for you today,” the woman—a flashy redhead with a huge rack—purred.
“Yes; she looks delicious. Thank you,” the giant rumbled.
The crowd laughed.
Great. They'd giggle as he tore off pieces of me and crunched my bones. This audience was even more bloodthirsty than the ones in Rome had been. I should know; my Aunt Adelaid used to tell me bedtime stories of her glory days. She'd been a frequent visitor of the Colosseum before she burned Rome for Nero. No; my mother wasn't aware that her aunt (Addie was actually my grand aunt) had been telling me bloody bedtime stories. Mom wouldn't have stood for that. But I had loved them. Maybe it wasn't so surprising that I'd turned out the way I had.
“She's a wild card,” the woman went on. “A woman of unknown ability. We know she's got magic, just not how much of it or what it is. Isn't that exciting?”
“I'll show you exciting,” I growled.
The laestrygonian eyed me with a little less arrogance. I stretched my shoulders and gave him a wicked grin.
“You never know what will show up in our arena! Is she a witch? A shapeshifter? We'll soon find out,” The man went on. “Are you ready, champions?”
The giant roared. I stuck my tongue out at the announcer. Am I a witch? Oh yeah, buddy; half of one. The crowd laughed hard enough to vibrate the stone, and the announcer grimaced.
“Fight!” The woman shouted.
Suddenly, magic rushed into me. It felt like surfacing after a deep dive; breaking the waves to take a life-sustaining breath. Being without magic was like being without my right arm. I felt crippled. Human. I frowned. This is what I'd done to an entire court of Shining Ones.
Sing! Kyanite shouted in my head as music burst to life in the air around us.
The crowd froze; even the announcers gaped at me. Everyone knew what that music meant, and I'd bet my bottom dollar that they'd never had one of my kind in their arena. Especially not one that came with her own stereo system. The gargoyle who had led me out to the arena was leaning against the gate I'd gone through; watching me with a fascinated smile. Even the giant came to a halt and just stared at me.
Then everyone jumped to their feet and started shouting at once. A lot of words were being tossed about, but only one caught my attention: Spellsinger! Yeah, they knew what they had now, but if they thought they were getting a concert out of me, they were sorely mistaken. As sorely mistaken as this giant was about to be.
A Perfect Circle's “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” had a jagged, grating sound that felt right at home in that harsh environment. It jolted out across the sand like the movements of a saw. When I began to sing, it was a dangerous whisper; a seductive call instead of a matching slam. My words soothed. Lured. Promised. Just lay down and sleep, sweetheart. Aren't you tired?
Ridiculous really. It wasn't a lullaby but a swan song. I commanded the giant to take a dirt nap; to close his eyes forever. The power of my magic burst out of me and drummed through the giant's brain; bashing his gray matter into a pulp just as he'd intended to do to me with his club. No mercy, Cerberus had said. I took his advice and showed none.
The laestrygonian dropped his club; his mouth hanging open in shock. The blood vessels in his eyes burst and blood poured out of his nose a second before he keeled over and struck his forehead right on his own weapon. It cracked like an enormous watermelon and pulverized brain oozed out. The vibrations of that crack and of his fall in general nearly sent me to my knees. But I held my arms out and rode the waves. I'd watched enough surfers from my backyard in Hawaii to catch a few tricks.
The crowd—who had never sat down—jumped up and down with glee. That's how quickly they turn. Their favorite was dead, but they were delighted. I refused to delight them any further. I stopped singing—my song cutting off abruptly—and started walking back to the gate. The Beneathers hung over the edge of the arena and shouted down to me. They wanted to know my name. I ignored them. The gate rattled open—the blond gargoyle waiting for me with a shit-eating grin—but just before I went inside, I turned around and faced the Zone Lord. He was staring at me again but this time, a soft smile played around his firm lips.
I flipped him the bird and swung my hips as I strode back into the prison.
Chapter Seven
Later that night, after I'd been given some time alone in the communal showers, our prison warden brought me a tray of food. I looked up as the door opened and the scent of steak and fried potatoes wafted in. My mouth watered, and I stood eagerly. My stomach rumbled loud enough for the gargoyle to hear.
“Your spoils for the day.” He set the tray on the bed with a grin at my belly. “Win again, and you'll get a better cell too.”
“Whoopee,” I said without enthusiasm. “What are you feeding the girl?”
“What girl?” He frowned at me.
“The Sasq'et,” I growled. “What are you giving her to eat?”
He blinked in surprise. “Bread and water; that's what everyone gets until they win their first fight. We're traditional like that.”
“Take that tray and give it to her.” I pointed at the food. “I'll take her bread and water.”
The gargoyle gaped at me.
“Did I fucking stutter?” I snapped.
“Shit,” he whispered, and then he smirked. “We have ourselves a budding hero.”
“Fucker, you don't even know who you're standing in front of!” Cerberus shouted over to us. “Hero? She's beyond a hero. There ain't a word that can describe her awesomeness. That woman saved the whole fucking world. Two of 'em. And she's still saving them; one little girl at a time. You fucking go, El! I love you!”
The gargoyle gave Cerberus a disbelieving look over his shoulder.
“I love you too, Cer,” I said with a smile.
Cer saw the gargoyle's look. “You don't believe me? Ask around, motherfucker. Ask the Shining Ones who stopped the Sapphire King from taking over the Earth and destroying the Veil. Ask them who wore the Witch Relic! I'll save you the trouble; they'll say Elaria Tanager did. You ever hear of a spellsinger who can make music out of thin air? No; only her. Ask yourself why that is. I'll tell you why; because she's—”
“Save it, Cer,” I cut him off before he gave away all of my secrets.
The gargoyle frowned and looked back at me thoughtfully.
I picked up the tray and handed it back to him. “None of that matters here. Actions speak, and I'm about to start talking.” I shoved the tray into his chest when he didn't take it. “Loud and clear.”
The gargoyle finally took the tray and nodded at me. “Okay, Spellsinger, I'll be back with some bread and water for you.”
He paused at the door.
“I'm Jago, by the way,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Elaria Tanager.”
“What kind of stupid ass name is Jago?” Cerberus huffed at the gargoyle as he passed by.
“What kind of stupid ass name is Cerberus?” Jago shot back.
“Greek, dumb-ass!” Cerberus shouted.
“You think she's okay?” I asked Cerberus as I stared after Jago.
“For now,” he lowered his voice to say. “But she ain't gonna last here. Her first fight will be a slaughter.”
My throat tightened. I knew he was right. There had to be a way that I could help her.
I waited until I saw the gargoyle coming back down the hallway. “Hey, Jago!”
Jago smirked at me as he sauntered over. “Miss me already, El?”
“Don'
t use my nickname for her, douche bag,” Cerberus growled. “You haven't earned it.”
Jago ignored him.
“I wanna see your boss,” I said.
He smirked wider. “Not gonna happen.”
“I wanna make him an offer.” I smiled viciously. “It'll be worth his time.”
Jago looked intrigued.
“What the fuck are you doing, El?” Cerberus asked with a hint of worry.
I just gave him a look.
“Aw fuck,” Cer swore.
“All right.” Jago opened the door. “Come on, World Savior.”
I looked at him in surprise. That was easy. Too easy.
“He wanted to see me anyway,” I concluded.
Jago smirked again.
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Just take me to the fucker.”
“I'd watch my words around him if I were you,” Jago said with sudden seriousness.
I lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything as Jago grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway in the opposite direction of the arena. Faces stared out at me from the cells as I passed; some interested, some too cold to care. I looked away; focusing on the door at the end of the aisle. It was steel and had a solid panel with a large keyhole. Jago pulled a keychain out of his pants pocket. I made sure to note which pocket. The keys jangled in a metal taunt as he slipped one into the lock. A slight click and then the keys were swiftly tucked away again. Jago yanked on the steel-bar handle and the door swung in to reveal its impressive thickness; about eight inches. Yep; they were prepared for all kinds of Beneathers.
There was a gargoyle on guard on the other side of the door; he took care of shutting it for Jago. He didn't ask about or even look at me; just did his job. Jago pulled me past him; through stone hallways that branched off in different directions. The cells we passed were empty. I wondered if he was taking me in circles to confuse me in case I ever tried to escape, but I didn't bother asking. It didn't matter; I'd find my way out of here with a song if I had to.
The hallway widened slightly and we came to another length of cells. These were occupied. I glimpsed beneathers lying on real beds; reading books or just staring at the ceiling. These must be the nicer cells. Which meant that—
“Hey, Jago, who's your friend?” A dark-skinned man with thick, long black hair stared through a barred window at me. His eyes were blank; like a bird of prey.
“Can it, Geronimo,” Jago snapped.
I looked over at Jago with a lifted brow.
“Thunderbird,” Jago said as if it explained it.
I glanced over my shoulder. The thunderbird was smiling at me; not in a friendly way.
Thankfully, this was the last stretch and after passing through an antechamber, we stepped outside and into an open space. It looked like a training yard; exercise equipment and picnic tables gathered together in an orderly fashion. A few men were working out; one was running on a track that surrounded the area. No guards were watching them. One of the picnic tables had some of those metal rods on it. Right; they were the guards.
Beyond the training yard was a high fence; metal slats bolted to posts horizontally. Between the slats, I could see shops with beneathers strolling past them. The sounds and smells of civilization were a little shocking after being in a cell. Was this to tease us or them? Maybe it was both. The free beneathers got a glimpse of the arena fighters while we got a glimpse of freedom. It was slightly diabolical.
“Why metal?” I nodded at the fence. “Wouldn't stone suit you guys better?”
“Metal can conduct electricity.” Jago smiled wickedly. “Stone can't.”
“Right,” I whispered. “Don't touch the walls. Got it.”
The air was fresh there, despite us being underground. I'd heard that the Gargoyles were masters at creating subterranean cities. They had ways of directing heat, water, and air down into their caves. With so many beneathers clambering for entry into their zones, they'd have to have some sort of ventilation system in place. I just hadn't expected it to be so good. There were hundreds of people out there, maybe even thousands; the reek of them alone would be enough to taint the air. But it smelled as fresh as the air of the Blue Mountains.
The arena was on our left. We curved around the bowl of it and approached a towering, three-story building that was attached to the arena in an unusual way. I noted the way the top floor butted against the arena's curved wall while an alley separated them at ground level. In the middle, a stone tunnel shot out; like one of those overpasses you see connecting department stores with parking lots. Except this didn't have any windows. I recalled the Zone Lord's glass box; it would have been around that level. So, this was a passage to it. Had to be.
The rest of the building didn't look like much on the outside; the same gray-colored stone that the prison was made of. The prison was attached to the arena too, opposite this building, but it was only a single story and the passage that connected it was at ground level. The prison made the taller structure seem more commanding, but neither of them held up to the enormity of the arena; it towered above the other two.
A pair of gargoyles stood outside the entrance of the three-story building. They nodded at Jago but didn't say anything. I guess he was the talker of the bunch. One of them glanced at me as he opened the door for us, but then his stare angled up, over my shoulder, and he quickly looked away. I flicked my gaze back at Jago and caught the tail end of a glare. Interesting.
Our boots echoed off a polished stone hallway. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all black, and with the mirror-shine, it felt as if we were walking through endless space. Disconcerting; which I'm sure was the point. A red light caught my attention—far up in a corner—and I looked up to see a camera eye watching me. I smirked at it.
The hallway split; half of it became a slimmer hallway on the left while the right side swept up into a narrow stairwell. We took the stairs to the third floor. At first, I'd thought the stairs were concrete, but I realized they were solid stone. The whole building was rock; one giant piece. Seamless and smooth. Well, stonework was a Gargoyle specialty. It had to be the easiest and cheapest form of construction for them. They probably shaped this building as they were carving out the zone itself. Why bring in building materials when you can just use what's already there?
The top floor had attitude. Masculine, refined, and yet savage attitude. The floor there was the same black stone of the entry hall, but the walls were paneled in ebony; better to hang priceless works of art on. Furniture was sparse, large, and mostly leather; placed around the room strategically. A central fireplace was open all the way around; more of a fire pit, really. It had a round, stone base—that same polished black—with a silver flue above it. The flue was shaped like a sword, tip up, and had a shelf jutting out around the base that resembled a crossguard. Steel poles descended into the stone around the edges of the fire to complete the look. There were logs in the center, but they were just for show; gas flames burned blue around them.
We skirted the edge of the fire pit and headed to the right; our boots silenced by thick rugs laid to look as if thrown there haphazardly. But they were as planned as the rest of the room; sectioning off social areas with their borders. There was a place to sit and enjoy a book by the fire, a place to drink expensive liquor, and even a place to wait while the Zone Lord decided if he wanted to speak with you.
The room was spacious, but I knew from my inspection outside that it wasn't even a third of the top floor. There had to be several rooms off to either side of us. The right wall was floor-to-ceiling glass with a view of the Zone. We were just high enough to see over the metal walls and from the looks of it, we were smack dab in the center of the zone. As we drew closer to the windows, I noticed the doors set to either side. They confirmed my assumption that there was more to this floor. But I only gave them a cursory glance; my stare was drawn immediately to the mammoth, black desk between the doors. It faced inward instead of toward the view. Another strategic placement. It gave a direct line of
sight to the door.
The desk was impressive; an expanse of ebony that matched the walls. Silver gargoyles adorned each corner—glaring at anyone who dared to approach their lord's domain—and a battle scene was inlaid into the top of the desk with even more silver. A thick sheet of glass protected the beautiful carving from the steaming mug of coffee sitting on it casually. A computer monitor was set to one side but there was no keyboard in sight. Nor were there any paperwork or journals or even a damn pen. Just that coffee, the monitor, and a black box with buttons on it—looked like a speaker.
A hand that managed to be both large and elegant reached for the coffee. I followed the cup's progress to a pair of sensual lips. Silver eyes stared at me steadily above the rim of the mug; cold as the metal they resembled. The mug lowered and the rest of the Zone Lord's face was revealed; the same one I'd glimpsed from the arena. A jawline of chiseled rock. Blades for cheekbones. His lips—the only soft thing about him—tightened in displeasure as he looked at me. He was less refined up close; a step away from the jungle. Except it wasn't Mowgli that was staring at me through those mirror-eyes, it was Shere Khan or maybe that giant fucking snake. What the hell was that snake's name anyway? Ku something? Ka?
“You have an offer for me, Elaria?” His voice was primal; something drawn up from deep within the earth.
“How did you... ?” I gaped at him and then grinned. “You been watching me, Zone Lord?”
“Of course,” he said. “I see everything.”
“Like a creepy Santa,” I noted.
“What do you want?”
“That Sasq'et girl you bastards grabbed along with me and Cerberus,” I said.
He lifted a brow as Jago made a choked sound.
“What about her?”
“I want you to let her go.” I crossed my arms and leaned back on my heels since I hadn't been invited to take a seat in one of the chairs before the desk. “I'll fight double; take her place. You know she won't last ten seconds. I can give you way more entertainment than she can; draw it out instead of making it quick like this morning. Your customers will like that.”
