by Ward, Tracey
Six minutes.
“How’d I do?” I ask breathlessly.
Kevin and Ryan stare at me in silent horror.
“What?” I demand.
Kevin blinks. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Dude,” Ryan whispers.
“What?” I ask again. “You said to take my time. To make the kill last longer.”
“Yeah, but not like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a nightmare,” Kevin says as though it were obvious.
“I’m not supposed to kill them quickly, but now I take too long? You said six minutes.”
“We didn’t say six minutes of that!”
“Of what, then?!”
“You’re supposed to give them a show. Run around and knock ‘em to the ground. Let them get up again. Pump the crowd up. Land some hits, dodge and weave. Be dynamic, not psychotic.”
“There’s another one!” Ryan shouts, jumping off his bike and letting it fall to the ground. “I’ll show you. Watch.”
He takes his pipe from me and runs toward the Risen. She sees him immediately. The meet in the middle of the street where Ryan runs up close to her, gets her to reach for him, and quickly spins out of her grasp until he’s behind her. She turns, confused, still reaching out for him but he’s nowhere to be found. He changes direction, running around her and passing under her arms before she can get ahold of him. As she tries to get her bearings he dances on his toes, bobbing back and forth. He swings his pipe in his hand, swirling it in a mesmerizing pattern.
The Risen finds him. She lunges forward, groaning and growling, but Ryan lands the pipe in her midsection, forcing her body to crumple in half. He doesn’t knock her down, though. He continues to dance around her, putting himself just within range before expertly slipping away in a dangerous dance that both worries and amazes me.
Finally he lands a blow to her legs that drops her to her knees. He pushes her down to the ground, swings wide and theatrical, and brings the pipe soundly against her temple. She topples over, dead for good.
Ryan is breathing heavily. He’s smiling from ear to ear, and he spins his pipe again as he heads back toward us.
“That’s six minutes,” he says happily.
I turn to Kevin, surprised to find him smiling as well.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks his little brother.
“From watching you.”
“You’ve got skills.”
“Really? So you’ll let me in the cage?”
Kevin’s smile disappears. “Not a chance.”
Ryan scowls at him. “You suck.”
“I know.” Kevin turns to me. “So you think you can do it like that?”
“No.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think you can either. It’s not your thing.”
“I’d like to try it in the cage my way,” I insist.
“Your way as in the fast way or your way as in Jack the Ripper style?”
“Fast.”
“Thank God,” he breathes in relief. “Okay, yeah, I’ll talk to Vin. See what he says.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. And whether people like your style or not, one good thing will come out of them seeing you fight in the Arena.” He smiles devilishly. “No one will ever be stupid enough to step to you out in the wild.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vin
I’m watching the door. I’m waiting for the girls to walk in so I can see that head of dark hair, the one I can still feel under my fingers. She’s on my mind and under my skin and there’s so much danger in that that I consider ignoring it all together. I think about rolling with it and seeing where it takes me, but I know I can’t. I know I won’t because that’s not how you stay ahead of the game.
And I always need to be two steps ahead.
I turn my back to the door and I walk the Arena, checking the perimeter. I rattle the wires, double check the locks on the doors, search the inside for hidden weapons. Today I come up empty, but that’s rare. Most fight nights I find at least one shiv or blunt instrument tucked away in a corner or taped to the bottom of a bench. People trying to tip the scales in their favor before heading into the ring. I’ve seen the look of shock and fear on their face when they look for that weapon and they can’t find it. It’s a moment they won’t forget and if they come into my ring again they don’t bother trying to cheat. And if they die without that weapon, well, they won’t be coming into my ring again anyway.
Problem solved.
“Vin, hey!”
I look up from where I’m squatting beside a bench and nod to the man outside the cage. It’s Hyperion, looking way more solid than he did the last time I saw him. Whatever that message was about that he wrote to Freedom, it must have worked because they’ve both been all smiles all night. Stolen glances and brushes of hands. It’s sweet and dangerous, but it’s got my fighter back in form so I’m not going to say shit about it.
“Hyperion,” I greet him with a smile, “what’s up? You looking to fight tonight? I can make you a slot.”
“Nah, not tonight. My boy wants to fight, though. Next week with the girl if you’ve got an opening.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise and put my hands up on the cage, leaning forward against it. “Your brother?”
“Hell no! Ryan is too young. I’ve told him he’s not allowed to fight. Not yet. Maybe never.”
“I’ve seen you spar in here with him. He’s good. Fast.”
“Yeah, I know. Do me a favor and don’t ever tell him that, alright? He wants in and I’m doing everything I can to keep him out.”
“Can’t control him forever,” I remind him. “How old is he now? Thirteen?”
“Fourteen.”
“Grown man.”
His lips curls up in frustration as he spits out a curse.
I smile at his outburst. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t let him in for another year. Not until he’s fifteen, and you can spend that year getting him ready. After that it’s up to him.”
He eyes me suspiciously and I’m reminded that as much as I like him, we’re not friends. He doesn’t totally trust me, and put us in the wild together fighting for our lives and I might not trust him either. Friendship is hard to come by these days, loyalty a lost art that went out with cursive and calculus.
“I thought you guys liked the weak fighters,” he accuses.
“You mean the fodder?” I clarify without shame. “Yeah, we do. It keeps things interesting. If no one ever dies or gets hurt there’s no danger and if there’s no danger there’s no excitement and no fights.” I lower my hands, taking a step back from the fence. “You gotta throw a lamb in with the wolves every now and then to keep the blood pumping.”
“So why Ryan? Why try to keep him alive?”
“Because he’s got what it takes to be a crowd favorite. He’s a good looking kid, he’s quick, he’s charming. Most people will pull for him and I need champions like you just as much as I need fodder. Probably more. People would feel uncomfortable watching him die and that’s not the show I’m selling. That doesn’t put asses in seats.” I grin at him. “Rest easy, man. It doesn’t benefit me to see him die and that’s as much of a guarantee on anyone’s life as I can give.”
“It’s as much of a guarantee as I can ask for. Thanks, Vin.”
“No problem. So who’s your friend?”
“Trent.”
I frown, slowly walking around to the door of the cage and stepping out. “Tall guy? Blond hair?”
“That’s him.”
“He’s never fought before.”
“Not yet. But he’s good.”
“Will I need the mop?”
Kevin shakes his head. “No way. They’ll never touch him. No blood.”
“That’s not what I meant. Can’t tell you how many times guys have pissed or shit themselves once the doors are locked and the Risen are let loose.”
“Still no. I can vouch for him. He’
s solid.”
“Alright. Send him my way. We’ll get him on the ledger.”
“He’s over there with Ry.” Kevin puts his fingers to his mouth and lets loose a sharp whistle, short but distinct. His buddy looks his way immediately and Kevin waves him over. “Trent, come here.”
I look at Kevin pointedly. “Nice system you got there.”
“What system?”
“He knew immediately that that was you, didn’t he?” I ask him, ignoring his innocent act. “And I bet he could have heard that whistle and recognized it even if it were loud in here. Say with a fight going on and the crowd going crazy.”
Kevin chuckles faintly, lowering his head and nodding at the floor. “Yeah, you’re probably right, Vin. I bet he could.”
“You got something you want to tell me, Hyperion?”
“Nope.” He looks sideways at me. “You got something you want to ask me, Hornet?”
I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “No. But there’s something you need me to tell you and I want you to remember it. There’s a fine line between being clever and being a cheater. You’re toeing it, and believe me you don’t want to cross it. Not in my Arena.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” His buddy is almost to us, just a few feet away. I nod toward him. “Pass that info on to your—“
A scream rips through the building. It’s long, loud, and full of fear.
And it’s coming from the Stables.
I push past Hyperion and head for the stairs leading down. People are running the opposite direction, heading for the doors, and I wonder if one of my Zs has gotten loose. I pull my knife from my belt as I burst into the dim hallway leading back to the reservation rooms. It’s empty. Not a soul, living or undead, in sight. I wait for a beat, listening for more screams or muffled cries or the unmistakable, unforgettable sound of flesh being torn. I hold my breath. I grip my knife. I listen.
“What’s happened?” Kevin demands from behind me. “Where’s Freedom? Is she back here?”
I hold up my hand without turning to look at him, signaling for him to shut up.
Crying. I hear the soft sound of crying coming from halfway down the hall and immediately I’m sprinting toward it. A door is open just a crack, yellow light cutting through the slit into the hall and guiding me in. Pulling me forward.
Kevin and I reach the door at the same time. He pushes it open and I stand ready with my knife, crouched and prepared to fight.
When the door opens nothing looks off. That’s the weirdest part of it – the normalcy. I can feel it in my gut that something is irreparably wrong, but my eyes can’t see it. Not at first. Not until I find Freedom sitting on the side of the bed with shaking shoulders, a hand held in hers.
When she turns toward us her body shifts, and so does my perspective. My understanding and the very foundation of my world.
There on the bed is a body. A beaten, bludgeoned, destroyed body that looks too small and fragile to be real. She’s nothing but a wisp. A dark, smoking tendril. The remnants of a fire gone out.
She’s Seven.
She’s Madeline.
She’s dead.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trent
The entire Hive comes to a standstill when the woman screamed. Kevin shouted for me to stay with Ryan as he ran after Vin through the door to the Stables. I know what he’s worried about, or rather who he’s worried about.
“Do you think it was Freedom who screamed?” Ryan asks me nervously.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“She’s not here in the Arena room so it had to be her, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Ryan chews his lip, his eyes going glassy. “Do you think she’s dead?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “If it was her screaming then I absolutely don’t think she’s dead.”
“Why not?”
“Because it didn’t sound like someone in pain.”
“What did it sound like?”
“Someone afraid.”
I can see it in his face that that news is not much better. There are only a couple of reasons a person screams, though, and none of them are particularly good. The fact that she’s still alive is a win if you’re willing to take it.
All eyes go to the door from the lobby when Marlow walks in. I’ve never seen him before but I know it’s him. We all do. He walks in with the air of a man in charge, his eyes taking in every face and committing it to memory. I don’t know why I do it but when he looks our way I step between him and Ryan, blocking him from the man’s view. There’s something about Marlow, about his eyes and the crooked line of his mouth that I don’t trust.
He spots the bouncer, Dante, and points to him. “What’s happened? Where’s Vincent?”
“In the Stables. Someone screamed a couple minutes ago and he ran in there with Hyperion to check it out.”
“Where’s Bennett?”
“Here,” the Stable Boy calls out.
He’s sitting in the corner of the room surrounded by five of the girls. Freedom and the new girl, the one with the dark hair and the angry eyes, are both missing.
“Is everyone accounted for?”
“Freedom and Seven are in the Stables.”
“Who’s with them?”
“Vin.”
Marlow frowns. “Vin should be in the Arena. If you have girls working in the Stables and you’re out here, then who’s with them back there?”
Bennett coughs, sitting forward slightly. “No one,” he mutters.
“No one?” his boss asks angrily.
Bennett doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t have to. We all heard him.
Marlow disappears with three men trailing behind him. They push quickly through the doors to the Stables and let them bang shut behind them.
The room is silent when they’re gone. Everyone stays where they are, looking around nervously. More often than not their eyes find Bennett. Two of the girls are glaring at him openly, the rest have their backs to him and refuse to look in his direction.
“What’s the fuckin’ hold up, huh?” Castor shouts in annoyance from his table.
The other Pike with him chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “A whore sees a spider and the entire Hive falls apart.”
“Where’s the fight? I put money down on this. We paid to see a fight, so let’s see it!” He looks around the room for someone other than his friend to agree with him. A couple of Westies shrug noncommittally when he looks at them but even though they’re annoyed there’s no fight yet they know that means that they’re annoyed with Vin. And no one wants to vocalize that. Not in his house.
Finally Castor’s eyes find mine and I meet them without blinking. “You, Hyperion,” he calls to me. “Where’s your friend? The good fighter. Get him out here, let’s see him fight.”
“He’s indisposed,” I tell him evenly.
He thinks that’s funny for some reason, chuckling as he sits forward in his seat. “Indisposed. What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not able to come to your service at the moment.”
His smile fades. “No, motherfucker, I know what the word means. I mean where is he and what is he doing that has him indisposed?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“I can’t exactly ask him if he’s not here, now can I?”
I grin faintly. “I guess you’re shit out of luck.”
His eyes narrow to dark slits. “Are you being smart with me?”
“He’s in the back with Vin,” Bennett tells him with annoyance. “The Arena doesn’t run without Vin even if you had a fighter, so why don’t you chill out and shut up.”
Castor stands and takes a step toward him. “You think because you’re Hive you can talk to me like that? You corral cats, you pussy. You can’t handle me so you better keep your mouth shut.”
“It doesn’t seem like you came to watch the fights,” I comment casually. “It looks more like you cam
e to get in one.”
“You think you’re man enough to take me on, Hyperion?”
“I think you’re proving my point.”
“Why don’t we step into the cage and settle this?”
“Because he’d beat you so bad you’d be in diapers for the rest of your life,” Kevin tells him, appearing in the doorway with a scowl on his face and his spike in his hand.
Freedom is with him, her face red and blotchy. She’s been crying, still is, but she’s alive and Ryan is quick to step around me and run to hug her. She welcomes him into her arms and squeezes him to her tightly. He’s only fourteen but they’re almost the same height, their heads pressing in close together.
Cobalt stands and takes a step toward Freedom. She hesitates when she realizes Castor is standing in her way. “What happened?” she calls around him. “Where’s Seven?”
Freedom buries her face deep into Ryan’s shoulder, holding him tighter. Kevin puts his hand on her back reassuringly.
“She’d dead,” he answers solemnly. His voice is rough and full of emotion. Full of remorse. “She was murdered.”
Some of the girls gasp. Some of them immediately start to cry. One runs from the room and heads for the door to the Stables but Kevin steps in her way.
“Marlow is still back there,” he warns her quietly. “He sent Freedom and I out while he handles what happened.”
“Handles how?” the chuckling Pike asks suspiciously.
Kevin looks at him hard. “He’s looking into who did this. From what I heard it’s one of yours.”
“Not possible. Castor and I are the only Pikes here and we’ve been at this table all evening. Everyone saw us.”
“There were three of you,” I correct him, calling out his lie.
“You’re wrong,” Castor says severely.
“I’m not. The short one with the limp and bad facial hair sat next to you for about ten minutes. He was agitated. Antsy. He asked for Bennett, talked to him there at the door to the Stables for thirty seconds, then went inside with him.”
“What are you? A fuckin’ robot? Shut up!”
I do not shut up. “Three minutes later Bennett brought the girls out, all but Freedom and Seven. Five minutes after that we all heard a scream. Scumstache Pike didn’t come back out this way so I assume he snuck out the back somewhere or is hiding in the Hive.”
