by E. A. Copen
The crowd booed. Guess watching two idiots roll down a stone temple wasn’t entertaining enough for ’em.
I couldn’t care less. Each step cracked against bone, threatening to do more damage. I rolled up to protect myself as best I could, but there wasn’t much I could do for the shoulder. The impacts jostled it, sending spikes of pain to wrack my body as I hit each stair. And there were a lot of stairs. It felt like I was rolling forever. On the way down, I cracked my nose against one stair and my head against another. By the time I crashed into the mud at the bottom of the pyramid, my whole face was coated in blood.
The druid splashed down next to me and rolled around, gasping and holding one arm. It was twisted at an odd angle and bone protruded from it. I blinked and there were two of him.
After a long moment, he pulled himself up from the mud using one arm and came over to me. He dropped to his knees, driving one knee into my chest. My breath came out in a pained wheeze. I curled up again and rolled away, or tried to. He just grabbed me and forced me onto my back. The druid had apparently had enough magic for one day because he drew back a fist and socked me in the nose.
I went blind from the pain. The screams from the crowd became a dull throb in the background as if they’d suddenly been plunged under water.
He drew back his fist again but stopped. A word erupted from between his bloody teeth, and the air shimmered with heat. Somewhere nearby, a dog whimpered. He’d hurt Spot.
Now, I might not like cats, but I’ve got a soft spot for dogs, especially big, dumb mutts that turn into giant, worm-killing monsters. Something in me snapped, and the world was suddenly brought back into focus. I screamed and lunged for him, wrapping my hands around his throat. He flailed as my fingers closed around his neck and cut off his air.
Someone somewhere distant shouted my name. Whoever it was could wait. I was going to crush this asshole. He was standing between me and Emma’s soul, between me and getting back to Remy, and he’d hurt Spot. I was done letting people get hurt. Done with all the leering of the crowd and with this fight. I squeezed harder and felt his pulse flutter under my thumb.
Panicked choking sounds came out of his mouth, and he went from trying to claw at my face to pulling at my fingers. He was strong, but I was stronger.
An Earth-shattering boom echoed through the arena and the druid’s body jerked in my hands. Blood and brain matter splattered on my face before he fell limp, bleeding all over me. My breathing was still hard and ragged, each breath a sharp lance of pain in my shoulder. I blinked away blood and tried to process what’d happened.
Emma shot him. I had him, and she shot him. She wasted another bullet. Why would she do that?
The crowd jumped to their feet as the announcement was made. We’d won.
“Laz.” Emma’s hand came down on my shoulder. “You can let him go.”
I realized I was still holding onto a dead man and dropped him.
Chapter Twenty-One
The arena had a healer come look at me. Since they hadn’t bothered to dig the bullet out of Khaleda, I assumed that meant the damage to my shoulder must’ve been serious. I think they tried to tell me how bad it was, but I wasn’t there. Physically, I was. I sat on the edge of the cold metal bed, still half-dressed and listened to the doctor speak. The words were all words I knew, but they passed through me as if I were a ghost.
I felt numb. All I could think about was the look in the druid’s eyes as I choked the life out of him, his blood on my hands. I couldn’t understand why I kept seeing it over and over. He wouldn’t have been the first person I killed. I’d ripped the souls out of plenty of gods, killed a faerie queen. I’d left enough bodies in my wake that Persephone told me people were afraid of me. So why did this one bother me? I hadn’t even finished him. Emma had. Why had she done that?
Every time I reached that question, the cycle of thoughts would start all over again. I couldn’t stop it. The scene just kept replaying over and over. It was like I was still there. I swore I could still feel the pulse under my thumb growing weaker.
The healer placed his hands on my shoulder and I threw up because of all the pain, but they got all the broken things set in place. Thanks to their quick healing, the bones had even begun to knit back together. Unfortunately, the doctor wanted to declare me unfit for any more fights. Morningstar came in to put a stop to that. He was currently arguing with the doctor.
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “I can fight.”
“There, you see?” Morningstar crossed his arms. “He says he can fight.”
The doctor, a gray-haired healer, gestured to me. “Just because he can doesn’t mean he should. Not everyone is mentally conditioned for that kind of trauma. Putting him back in the arena could do irreversible psychological damage.”
Morningstar raised his chin. “I didn’t realize you were a shrink.”
The doctor sighed and went to a cabinet across the room. “I can’t refuse him on medical grounds, and honestly, half the fighters here have some sort of mental health problem. At the very least, make sure he gets some rest. His vitals suggest exposure to prolonged heavy stress. Eventually, that heart of his will give out.” He returned with a small bottle and held them out to me. “These won’t put you to sleep, but they will help you relax. Keep in mind that they’re a band-aid when what you really need are stitches, son. Take a vacation after this, will you?”
I stared at the bottle. “I don’t like things that dull my senses.”
Morningstar sighed. “Lazarus, just take them so we can leave.”
I took the bottle. My shoulder still hurt when I moved it. That’s right. They said I’d be sore for a few days.
The walk back to the apartments felt longer than I remembered. It didn’t help that Morningstar was silent for most of the walk.
I cleared my throat. “What happened to Spot?”
“Fared worse than you, I’m afraid. The druid crushed his chest with a boulder. He survived, but he won’t be in fighting shape for a long while.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was only the first fight of three and we’d nearly lost. On top of that, we were down a team member, and everyone but Morningstar had been in the arena once already. Since we could only fight in two battles each, that would mean we’d have to fight the last two rounds in pairs instead of three strong, and that was only if Morningstar decided to dirty his hands. Otherwise, someone would have to go in solo.
“How many shots did Emma fire?”
“So full of questions.” Morningstar stopped to pull open the door for me.
We’d reached the apartments and I hadn’t even noticed. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Let’s see. Two shots into Donlin. One assisting Spot with the ollepheist, and then another into the druid. That’s what? Four? She has three left.”
“Two.” I held up two fingers. “The third one doesn’t count.”
“Really, Lazarus. So paranoid.”
I made him go through the door first because I didn’t want him at my back. That didn’t make me paranoid. It made me smart.
Nikki was waiting in the sitting area of the main room wearing a pair of short shorts and a black lacy tank top. She sat with Khaleda who was curled up on the little sofa with a steaming cup in her hands. Khaleda looked like she’d been crying. Either we did worse than I thought in the arena or she really did care about Spot.
Khaleda sniffled. “Holy shit. You look terrible, Lazarus.”
“Nothing a hot bath won’t cure.” Morningstar patted my back. “Go and get one. I want you in the next round.”
I pushed his hand away. “If I’m going in the next round, I have to sit out the finals. I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Khaleda and Emma are more than capable.”
“They’ll probably be facing War. And no way I’m going in there by myself. We need to go in in pairs. Hate to break it to you, Morningstar, but you’re going to have to go into the arena. We’re down a brute.”
M
orningstar squared his jaw. “Strategists don’t fight. They strategize. Only an idiot would put himself in the arena when he has a chance to do otherwise. If I am eliminated, we lose.”
“And if I’m eliminated, who takes on War in the final round? Huh? Khaleda, do you think you can? No, you can’t. He’s fucking War. He’s a Horseman and he will mop the floor with you.”
“Daddy, he’s right,” Khaleda offered.
Morningstar shot his daughter a glare that would’ve made lesser people curl up in fear. “Are you saying he’s better than you?”
“He’s a Horseman. Do I have to spell out for you what he can do?” She gestured to me. “Lazarus is right. You need to listen to him.”
“I’ve made my decision and it’s final!” Morningstar made a fist.
Khaleda cowered.
“Nicole, come. We have an engagement. Kali is going to make the arena for the next round, and I’m going to try and find out what she’s planning to do with it.”
Nikki got up to go with him.
I stepped in her way. “Is this really the kind of guy you want to be hanging out with?”
She put a hand on her hip. “I don’t need you judging me.”
“I’m not. I’m judging him. Morningstar would sell you for a bottle of Coke and half a pack of cigarettes. You’re nothing to him but leverage over Darius, Nikki.”
Her face hardened. “It’s Nicole, and I’m never going back there. You think Darius is any better?” She leaned forward. “He’s killed people. He runs a porn studio. The minute he suggested I start taking off my clothes to help him pay his bills, I got out of there.”
Okay, Darius had crossed a line. I had to give Nikki that. It was fucked up, asking your sister to star in your porn flicks. “Fine, don’t go back to Darius. Just get away from this creep before you get hurt.” I jammed a thumb toward Morningstar.
Nikki walked past me to take Morningstar’s hand. “Mr. Morningstar is trying to put Darius out of business. It’s what’s best. My brother needs to face the consequences of his decisions and live with them. He chose to be a… a…” She looked to Morningstar.
“Delinquent,” Morningstar coached.
“My brother chose to be a delinquent. He needs to see what he’s doing is wrong, and that won’t happen if he’s allowed to continue.”
I sighed. Morningstar was so far in her head, she didn’t even know how to talk without his help. There was no getting through to her. “I’ll have a talk with Darius once this is all over. Just… consider it.”
Morningstar smirked. “Enjoy your evening.”
Normally, I’d have stopped him and insisted he take a guard with him, but he’d just say he was fine and I didn’t feel like arguing. I felt like a bath.
***
I turned on the stereo and melted into the hot tub up to my chin to the growl of Carlos Santana’s guitar. Used to be, that’s how pop singers knew they made it. They got a duo with the greatest guitarist alive. Hell, Santana even made that guy from Nickelback sound good. A dose of good music and a good, long soak in a hot tub with a little bubble bath and a proper beer was enough to almost make me forget what had just happened.
Almost. When I closed my eyes, I could still see the scene. The more times I went over it in my head, the less shocking it became. It was kill or be killed in the arena and I had to survive, not just because I didn’t want to die, but because people were counting on me. I wasn’t going to kill him because I wanted to. I had to. Yet even as I tried convince myself of that, I knew it wasn’t true. I had wanted him dead. Why? What had he done to me other than exactly what he was supposed to?
I scratched the backs of my hands. I’d used the shower to rinse all the blood off of me before the soak, but I still felt like it was on me.
The only cure was to sit in that tub and soak until I felt better. I sank a little further in and closed my eyes. Exhaustion threatened to overtake me and I drifted toward sleep until I remembered the sounds the druid had been making. I snapped back awake and realized I wasn’t alone in the room.
Khaleda stood across from me with two beers wearing nothing but one of the arena’s oversized towels. It didn’t look so oversized on her. She lifted the beers. “Truce?”
I considered telling her to buzz off, but she wouldn’t have broken into the bathroom to talk to me if it wasn’t important. Khaleda didn’t call a truce for no reason. “Ground rules apply. No bullshit.”
“No bullshit. I’ll behave.”
I extended a hand and she deposited the beer in my palm. I cracked it open and took a long pull. Perfect. If not for the stupid fight, this could’ve been a near perfect day.
Her hand went to where the towel was tucked.
“I said no bullshit.”
“Relax.” Khaleda undid the towel to reveal the skimpiest bright red bikini. She took her time getting into the tub though, putting everything on display.
“How’s your shoulder?” I asked.
“Fine. How’s yours?”
I flexed my arm and made sure not to show any signs of being in pain, though it still hurt like hell. If she wasn’t going to admit how much pain she was in, neither would I. “You want something other than to come in here and disturb my peaceful moment?”
She pretended to consider her beer. “How is your relationship with War?”
“Relationship?” I wrinkled my nose. “Khaleda, I’m pretty sure you know War’s not my type.”
“I mean do you get along? If you asked him to do something, would he go along with it?”
“Depends on what it is. He didn’t go for the ‘no killing’ thing, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not.” Khaleda gulped down half the bottle and set it aside. “What if I could give you Pestilence?”
I blinked. “How?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you that. Not without assurances. Say I could, though. Would he help me with Morningstar?”
There it was. Everything Khaleda did was to undermine her father in some way. I figured she’d wanted to get her hands on the Famine mantle and take him out, but why do that when there were two perfectly good Horsemen who could do it for her?
“We’re not your errand boys,” I said and chugged more from the beer. The contrast of having something ice-cold in my stomach while submerged in hot water was interesting. I’d never drank beer in a hot tub before. Had I ever even been in a hot tub before?
Khaleda slid closer. “This benefits you too, Lazarus. Think about it. The three of us can be in the arena during the final round. With our combined strength, we actually stand a chance of killing him. I can destroy the body and you two can take the Archon once I force it out.”
I thought about it. If anyone could take out Morningstar, it would be me, War, and Khaleda. Two Horsemen and a succubus stood a better chance than most at least. “We’ll be disqualified.”
“It won’t matter if he’s dead.”
“But if we’re disqualified, Emma doesn’t get her soul back.”
Khaleda growled. “Listen to me. If he’s dead, it doesn’t matter! I’m his insurance. I don’t have to make good on that deal if I don’t want to.”
“True,” I agreed. “But what if we throw everything we have at him and it doesn’t work? Then we get disqualified, Emma loses her soul, and we’ll all go on his shit list.”
“That won’t happen.”
“How do you know?”
Khaleda squared her jaw. “It won’t happen.”
“The general who loses a battle makes few preparations. You know who said that? Sun freaking Tzu.”
She made a disgusted sound. “Forget it. It’d be easier to just go and seduce War.”
“His name’s Haru Nakamata. You should know that if you plan on seducing him.”
War wouldn’t be stupid enough to sleep with her, would he? Khaleda stood and pulled herself out of the tub, giving me a prime view of her behind. No way the biggest playboy at the tournament would pass on that. Shit, I had to warn hi
m or stop her, one of the two.
“How sure are you that you can take him?” I asked as she grabbed the towel to dry off.
“I’d stake my soul on it.” Her eyes sparkled.
I sighed. “I’ll talk to Haru, but you have to also guarantee you have ironclad evidence against Pestilence. I can’t go taking out Horsemen without irrefutable proof.”
“I’ll give you your proof after I have Haru’s word. Set up a meeting. We’ll work out the details.”
“Sure, if you let me finish my soak in peace.”
She smirked and tied the towel around her waist. “You do know she’s waiting for you to make the next move, right?”
I grimaced. “What? Who?”
“Emma.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need relationship advice from a succubus.”
“I happen to be an expert on the topic of unresolved sexual tension. I’m not really sure what she sees in you, but girls like Emma are afraid of seeming too forward. She’s probably scared half a dozen guys off and doesn’t want to screw things up with you so she’ll hang back and wait for you to move things forward. And if you don’t…”
I frowned. “What happens if I don’t?”
She shrugged. “She’ll start thinking you’re not interested.” Khaleda smiled and winked. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“No, you won’t,” she said, pulling the bathroom door open. “You need me.”
When she was gone, I sank all the way into the tub, wishing I could crawl into the drain and somehow wash out on the shores of the Mississippi. I’d have given anything in that minute to have Remy waiting for me. I missed her.
Two more fights, I told myself. Then you can go home.
