She can’t run.
If they see her, they will know something is wrong.
Pulling the blanket closer, she can feel her time passing by. Merchant needs her. She must not fail.
Turning the next corner, she sees the open gate that leads into the arena. A single man waits by the entry, but he is not watching. His eyes and attention are lost by what is happening within the killing grounds.
Elizabeth hunches her shoulders and closes her covers over her body as much as she can. If she can just get close enough.
The man is older. A head taller than she is, his gray hair reaches between his shoulder blades where it isn’t balding across the middle of his scalp. Thick, flaky scales crack across his skin and liver spots mark where age has set in.
Quietly.
Slowly.
She approaches. Her feet softly crunch the snow, but he makes no move to see her arrival.
What can she do?
“Excuse me, sir,” Elizabeth says.
Stooping shorter, she feels all the part of little old lady asking for help from a stranger.
The guard does not turn. He shifts his weight from his left side to his other. A rifle swings around and stops where it taps against his leg. He reaches for a cup that sits on a box next to him. The contents inside steaming into the cold air.
“Excuse me, sir,” Elizabeth tires again, this time with more emphasis.
Shifting his shoulders to the side, the man stirs but gives only a quick non-committed look over his shoulder and misses where Elizabeth stands directly beside him.
Anger stirs deep within her. She does not have time for this.
“Hey, asshole!” she shouts.
Dropping her blanket, she taps the man on the back.
“Oh God, what the fuck now, Julio. I told you if you left your post again I wasn’t going to let you back in. We are in the same…”
Elizabeth smiles as the man turns. His words lost as she is not Julio, whoever the fuck he is.
He looks over her shoulder. Probably looking for anyone else, but she gives him no time to regret his choice.
Throwing a punch as fast as her broken body will allow, she does not aim for his gut or his face. She does not have the strength to hurt him there.
Knuckles crunch throat and the man drops back, coughing and grabbing at his closed wind pipe. Rearing back with her leg, pain shoots through her muscles, but she ignores it as much as she can. Boots rupture groin and the man drops to the ground.
Weak fingers reach for rifle. She stomps his hands flat. A scream is scratched through his closed throat, his face is red.
Grabbing the rifle, she checks to see if it is loaded. One full magazine and the safety is off.
Good enough.
A dirty hand grabs her ankle. The fingers are weak. The arm shakes, and the man still claws at his throat. Driving her heel into the side of the man’s face ends the argument and the pain.
Elizabeth moves on. Rifle in hand, she makes her way into the arena.
Feet thunder above her head as she enters the small tunnel that will lead to the killing ground. Dust and flakes of paint fall all around her. Nails and joints creak as the crowd is going into a frenzy. They are losing control. With this much enthusiasm, she can’t imagine they’ll remain on the bleachers for much longer.
The end of the tunnel begins to lighten. A gate sits locked to the field where she knows Merchant fights for his life. She readies the rifle. The crowd is on its feet now, and the roof above her head begins to sag.
Her time is short.
She could blast her way through the door and kill whomever he is fighting. There are enough bullets in the rifle for that.
They’d both be dead long before they ever got free. She needs to stop the fight. She needs to end the madness.
The answer to her problems clears her mind.
So simple.
But only if she can reach him in time.
Turning away from the gate that leads into the arena and to Merchant’s side, Elizabeth back tracks down the path and turns up a set of stairs that leads her farther into the darkness.
Twenty-Three
Five Years Ago
“You really are a specimen to behold, if I say so myself,” the disembodied voice says.
Merchant can’t feel a thing. He is dead, or at least he should be. The pain is gone. The sounds of war are a distant memory, and he is weightless. He sees nothing and hears less unless she speaks.
Her words are like warm honey to his ears. He needs more. The pleas come to his lips but the sounds do not come alive.
“Seeing what you have done, what you have accomplished. I had my doubts, but now I know. You are the perfect choice, Merchant. I could not have chosen better,” she whispers.
Merchant feels the electricity of ecstasy course through his veins. If he could feel anything, he’d have an orgasm right where he is. Maybe he has, he can’t tell.
“See, the problem with what you wanted, Merchant, is it has cost you so much. Nothing is received without something being given in return. For that, I have done what I can.”
Hot fire, carried from the pits of Hell itself sears its way through Merchant’s blood. Organs burst and muscle melts. He can feel his soul char and become ash.
Screams evaporate into the air before the words can reach the air. His back arches, and the sounds of the world slam into him like a truck rolling downhill. Sirens roar in the distance and cold air slices through him like a brand of iron tearing away his insides.
He sits on the rooftop where he fell. Legs spread before him, he rests against the side of an air conditioner that hums gently into the night air. Fires rage across the yards that surround him. Lights of red, blue, and yellow dance into the night.
Dark blood pools around his legs. A body lays stiff at his feet.
Breaker.
The stake he impaled in the man’s head drips dark and red. The hole through the man’s skull yawns wide, and the skin of his face pulls tight against narrow cheekbones.
Merchant tries to feel something.
Happiness.
Vengeance.
Anger.
He is dead inside.
This man killed his family. Burning them as they were trapped in the basement of his home for secrets only he knew.
Anger takes hold and fills him.
Fuck him. Let him rot in Hell.
“Looks like you are beginning to come around,” the voice says from behind him.
Merchant tries to turn but finds he doesn’t have the strength.
A pair of perfect legs slip down beside his shoulder. Deep brown flesh, smooth and firm rubs against the tortured skin of his shoulder. Warmth and sexual desire runs down his arm.
The feeling begins to fill in the gaps where the anger does not have its hold. Bare feet sway next to him. Tilting his head back, he looks, and his heart skips a beat.
She has returned. Perfect curves and the smile that could light up the world watch him as he sits motionless beside her. Dark hair lays delicately across her shoulders, and her eyes are bright and playful.
He smiles.
She smiles back.
“What have you done?” he croaks.
The taste of blood is in the back of his mouth. He feels like he has been screaming for a thousand years.
“I gave you what you wanted. A chance to strike back at those who took everything from you.”
Merchant turns back to Breaker. The body will never move again.
“How? How did you?” he asks.
She runs the inner edge of one foot over the muscles of his shoulder and arm, the dark blood smeared across his body not touching her at all.
“Those secrets I must keep if you are to complete what you were made for, Merchant. You can’t comprehend what I have had to do to get you here. Set you on a path that will let you finally realize your true destiny.”
“Destiny? My family is dead. One of the two men who are responsible for their deaths lays
cold at my feet. The other is hundreds of miles away probably doing what I failed to stop. Just be straight with me. The cops will be storming this place any minute now, and I doubt I’ll be good for anything other than a needle full of drugs.”
Merchant lays his head back against the air conditioner. The cold metal feels terrific against his burning skin, and the vibration soothes the pain that builds in his skull.
She sighs and looks toward the horizon. Golden light reflects off her spotless brown skin and dances on the ruby red lips that draw him so close he can feel himself move though he’s pinned to the ground by an invisible weight.
“Shortsighted. That is what has always been the problem with your kind,” she says.
Sliding from her perch, she lands delicately on the stone beside him and shows no sign of pain at the sharp stones that cut at the delicate skin of her heels. Merchant’s heart throbs in his chest as he watches her walk toward the edge of the roof overlooking the field where the battle took place. Her hips sway back and forth and the white dress that clings to her rides dangerously close to the bottom curve of her ass.
His mouth is dry and nervous itching runs throughout his body.
She looks back at him, her lips curled in a mischievous smile.
“You really think only two men were responsible for your family’s death?” she asks.
“Who else was there? The general and this piece of shit ran the whole show,” he barks.
The anger ignites within him, refusing to drain the strength it continues to give him. Slowly, and wobbling, he lifts his arms but it takes everything he has.
“Good, let it fill you up,” she answers and turns back to the fires below. “I cannot answer that for you, Merchant. One day, you’ll be able to look back and find the answer you seek. May God forgive me the day you do, but one day my pet. You’ll find your answer.”
Merchant’s insides are molten lead. His eyes are closed, and he can feel the bones of his legs melting and pooling where his skin threatens to burst in a bubbling mess.
He bites his teeth against the pain.
He will not scream.
The pain passes.
He gasps for breath but needs more answers.
“Then what good are you? I need answers, and if you aren’t willing to give them to me, I’ll find someone who will.”
She does not reply.
Her hands come together before her, and she takes a deep breath.
“Exactly, Merchant. Now you are starting to understand.”
Merchant can roll now. Squeezing his muscles to the point of cramping, he falls and rises until he is on his knees. She does not try to help. He bites down so hard on his teeth that his mouth tastes of fresh blood again.
“Understand what?” he chokes out.
The woman tilts her head and takes a deep breath. Her hair falls back and ripples a darkness deeper than the furthest reaches of the universe.
Beautiful.
Mesmerizing.
Deadly.
“Do you smell that in the air, Merchant? Change. It is coming to this world. Something no one could have ever imagined. And here we both are to witness the beginning.”
Knuckle-sized stones dig into Merchant’s skin as he crawls across the roof. His back spasms, but he keeps his gaze locked on her. He watches the muscles in her legs and shoulders tense and relax. The way her hips move and her ass rounds seduces him, but the anger will not dissipate. His nails dig into the roof, and he continues to draw closer.
“The time is upon us, Merchant. I have given you what I promised. A second chance at finding what was taken from you.”
A bloody hand finds hold on the stone ledge that holds them back from plummeting to the ground below. Rough brick scratches skin, and Merchant pulls himself up until he is kneeling.
“I have only found half of that.”
She looks down at him, her eyes sparkling. Her smile falls flat. She turns back to the horizon.
“The rest will be revealed in time. If you complete the tasks I have set for you. And then, only if you complete them will you find the final answers you seek.”
“That was not part of the deal,” Merchant says. Searing agony moves through his body, and in his vision, all but her is ablaze with the fires of Hell. “You promised I’d have what I wanted, then you’d have your request. Not before, but after.”
“Semantics, Merchant. Your answer waits for you out there. All you have to do is make your way to it. One step at a time will bring you closer to what you want.”
“That brings us back to why you are here.”
The smile returns.
“That’s it, Merchant. I want you to find your answers, but along the way there will be people.”
“People? The world is full of people.”
“For now. But nonetheless, these individuals will be special. They will request things of you.”
Merchant tries to push himself to a standing position but only reaches one knee. The leg shakes as the muscles cramp.
“What kind of requests?” he asks.
“Special circumstances born of desperate need that you’ll be able to offer a unique resolution to.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
A chuckle like the muffled laughter of a thousand happy children escapes her beautiful lips. The glorious light it brings to her face fights the unanswered rage that builds within him but is quickly extinguished.
“You have special skills, Merchant. Something only you bring to the table, which makes you the perfect person to solve their problems.”
“And if I don’t?”
Lightning arcs through the sky, and thunder, like a canon, explodes above them.
“Once you start on this path, Merchant, there will be no ending. Your trail does not stop until you reach the city that touches the sky. Do not deter. Do not waver. You’ll see why in the end.”
“The city that touches the sky? Do you mean?”
The woman puts a single finger to his lips, letting the delicate taste of salt touch the edge of his tongue. Electricity ignites within him, and he finds the strength to keep himself from tumbling back to the ground.
“Quiet for now, Merchant. It is time to enjoy the show.”
With the hand that touches his lips, she places it gently against the hard skin of his face and turns him toward the south.
A darkness holds everything behind the fires and lights that swirl below him. He can see nothing. The edge of the world is empty.
Then, in the distance, a bright light flashes. At first, it is only a tiny, single bulb that is burned out in an instance. Within half a heartbeat, the flash grows. The horizon starts to bleed red. Clouds, burning in fire, rise into the air.
Rumbles carry with the wind as the clouds continue to climb higher and higher. Thunder steamrolls along the ground, followed by the wind that grows until it is steady and struggles to push Merchant off his feet.
The cloud is high into the atmosphere now. Its head is bulbous and a funnel like cloud reaches the ground. Horror screams through the night as the burning light grows and the deathly cloud reaches higher and higher.
Merchant balls his fist.
His enemy has succeeded. The general has finished his plans.
Washington is no more.
The war has started.
A grunt breaks the darkness.
Pressure is released. The thunder of a thousand feet rolls through like a locomotive. The ground trembles. There is screaming, and people go crazy.
Two explosions rock the frenzied air, and chaos ensues.
Weight falls off Merchant’s back. He lifts himself out of the mud. Cool air, tainted with the stench of death and blood, fills his mouth and lungs. It has never tasted sweeter.
A ton of bricks hits the mud beside him. Dark water splashes.
He rolls to his side, and then flops onto his back. Rain splashes against this face. Melted snow. The droplets cool his burning skin. A man moans. A body shifts. It is the Chosen
. He spits words from his mouth Merchant cannot understand.
Ears ring. Lights burn bright and sear pained eyes.
The world spins but begins to slow. Merchant squeezes his eyes shut and lets the world set its own pace. The Chosen is moving. Mud drains away where the big man digs holes into the ground with his legs and boots.
Merchant opens his eyes.
The monster is not looking at him. His attention is drawn to the audience. No, not the audience, the podium where the Father had sold his lies and played his magic. All around, citizens run for their lives. Blood drains from the man’s arm and right shoulder. Holes ripped through his flesh.
Bullet holes.
Above the frenzy, a woman’s voice shouts. Merchant turns.
Elizabeth barks orders. Rifle in hand, she points it at the Father. Her body shakes. Her strength fails. From the arena, Merchant can see the anger that burns within her.
People flee for their lives. Climbing over one another, they struggle to reach the exits and the horror that has awakened around them.
Women scream.
Children cry.
Merchant rolls until he is on his knees and hands. The Chosen kicks him in the ribs. Pain explodes in his side, and he coughs up blood.
Two shots ring out. Mud explodes beside the monster. He stops. She begins to bark orders again. Merchant cradles his stomach and rocks back onto the balls of his feet. His vision is blurry. Torch fires are dancing fireflies in the summer breeze. The Father is giving orders now. His voice carried around the arena.
Elizabeth answers back.
Merchant spits out the taste of blood and the mud that grinds between his teeth.
He turns toward the podium. The Chosen is closer now. She does not watch, and he moves silently within the confusion.
The end of the rifle shakes. Her face is red with anger and exhaustion. Men move in the shadows. No longer citizens, these creatures move to intercept.
Guards.
She does not see them coming. Her attention is drawn solely to the man she must hate the most. Merchant begins to claw his way to his feet.
One wobbly leg finds purchase in the ground. His muscles cramp. His fingers ache and pop as he pivots himself on his strained muscles.
Traveling Merchant (Book 1): Merchant Page 22
