The old swimming pool was the arena, the deep end cordoned off with more heavy mesh. There were two weres inside at the moment, scrabbling for purchase on the blood-smeared tiles.
“Instead, sadly, this is your fate,” said Grigorii. He passed me off to Mikel, who looked inordinately pleased to see me again. Grigorii leaned close to my ear as Mikel prodded me toward the shallow end of the pool. “Make me proud,” he whispered, and brushed his lips over my sweaty cheek. His touch was like ice.
Mikel shoved me down onto my knees. “Get in.”
There was a crowd at the deep end, cheering, and I heard a yelp and a snap. One of the weres fell, a gout of arterial blood pulsing from her neck. She twitched, fingers and feet racing in the few spare seconds it took her to bleed out.
I’d have to be careful that wasn’t me. Looking back at Mikel, I asked, “Who am I fighting?”
“The champ,” Mikel said. “For today, anyway. You watch yourself, pretty. She’s a bigger bitch than you.”
We’d see about that. I still had plenty of my own personal bitch coursing through me from killing the Russian, and the were was panting for another chance to run through me.
Mikel and another man jumped down into the ring and carried away the dead girl, while Peter pulled the winner through the crowd. Money changed hands, and Mikel raised his voice. He shouted in Ukrainian, introducing me. I took that as my cue to step obediently into the ring. The blood was still warm under my feet and I fought to keep myself under control as the were rippled over my skin, bending me into a crouch.
Not yet. Not yet. Just a little longer … I couldn’t phase without the moon, fully, but I could change enough to do plenty of damage. Enough to make this look real.
Mikel shouted something else, something that got a roar of approval from the crowd. The champ had arrived. She lowered herself into the ring and raised her arms, and the crowd just went crazier. Money floated from fist to fist like a flock of paper birds.
She turned, and I saw the red hair, matted with blood, and the tattoos. “Esperanza?” I blinked, feeling very small, human, and exhausted in a second. The wounds in my legs weren’t healing and I was so tired I was starting to see double.
“You,” she said, with a curl of her lip. “You said you’d come back for me.”
Mikel stepped away from us, and I heard the mesh roll back into place. That was Red’s cue—she sprang for me, going fully airborne. I ducked, half-slipping in the blood, and she went over my head, banging off the mesh. The crowd let out a gasp.
“Esperanza,” I said. “I need to say something to you.”
“Too late,” she responded, swiping at me with a fistful of claws sharp as switchblades. I moved and she caught my shirt, shredding it at the bottom.
“Listen, ” I hissed as she came in again, close, her hands low and sloppy. I caught her in a submission hold, bending her wrist back. I’m quick when I’m desperate. “You have to beat me.”
“No shit,” she said, snapping at me, wriggling against the hold. “I’ll beat you like I beat the three before you. That’s how you stay alive when you’re left behind. ”
“You can’t kill me,” I hissed desperately. “The maimed ones get out of here. They get taken somewhere outside the compound. If I can get away and get to a telephone…”
Esperanza let out a battle cry, a shriek that vibrated my head from chin to brow. She jerked, twisting, and I watched in horror as her wrist snapped and she wriggled free.
“Just for that,” she said, “I’ll kill you. Never mind any of the rest.”
“Esperanza,” I said, “I’m your best hope for getting out of here. Don’t be stupid.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, before she lunged at me again.
This time, I wasn’t quick.
Esperanza’s full weight landed on me, and I slammed into the bloody wet tiles, stars going nova in front of my vision from the blow to the head. “They like it when I do the big finish,” she said. “I think I might even live long enough to become a favorite.”
“Esperanza,” I choked, because her claws were digging into my neck. A millimeter more and she’d have an artery open… “None of us is getting out of here. I tried. The only way you leave is dead or so fucked up you can’t fight or screw.”
“Why should I believe you?” she hissed, dipping her face close. The crowd, thinking they were getting a good old-fashioned throat-ripping, cheered.
“Because we’ve both survived this long,” I whispered. “And it would be a real waste for you to kill me before I have a chance to pay back the sons of bitches who did this to us.”
Esperanza hesitated, doubt flickering over her face. The animal retreated and the woman came out. I wished I could say the same, but trapped and with the stench of blood filling its nose, my were was on the scent, and it was taking everything I had to lay still under Esperanza instead of reaching up and clawing out her eyes.
“Hurry,” I gritted. “Much longer and I’m going to change.” My spine rippled, trying to ensure that when I got up, I’d be on all fours. Hot pain reached out, all through me, and I snarled at Esperanza. “Do it now or we’re both getting dragged out of here on a slab.”
Esperanza balled her fist and drove it into my face. She had a hell of a right cross. My head snapped sideways against the tile and I felt her palms on me, coating me with cold, sticky blood. I flopped around, trying to make it look much worse than it was.
Esperanza shifted off of me, to hoots and cheers. “You better not fuck up this time,” she hissed at me, and then her weight was gone and I felt hands on my wrists. I moaned and lolled, trying to sell recent brain damage as a possibility.
“Grigorii,” a voice said. Mikel. “Take her out and dump her, yes?”
We stopped moving, and a cold hand wiped away some of the blood. Hex me. If he figured out I wasn’t hurt …
“What a bloody waste,” Grigorii sighed. “And no, she stays here. A fight fan has requested her for his companion.”
“She can barely move…” Mikel said. “That redheaded bitch dented her skull.” Was it my punch-drunk imagination or was there a tinge of disgust in his voice?
“The customer is always right, Mikel,” Grigorii said. “Ours is not to question why. Take her upstairs.”
Mikel switched to a fireman’s carry, muttering something that I’m sure was about getting blood all over himself dragging my heavy ass around. I cracked one eye and saw we were going upstairs, through the parlor, back to the rooms of the girls who didn’t have to fight.
After my days in the basement, it was almost welcoming. Mikel knocked. A voice rumbled at him, and I was deposited on a bed. Mikel withdrew, and I steeled myself for yet another battle. Whatever man wanted to fuck a half-dead, defenseless victim, I was more than happy to usher him into the next life. And the one after him, and as many as they sent to me.
Fight. Kill. Survive. That was what my mind was now, prey to my monster.
A hand brushed hair off of my forehead. It was large and callused, and the body that went with it sat on the bed beside me. “Are you all right?”
I made my move, and grabbed the hand touching me, shoving hard to throw the man off the bed. He fell with a thud and a curse and I was over him and against the door, scrabbling for the handle with my sticky bloodsoaked fingers.
“Luna.”
The voice stopped me in my tracks. It was rusty, accented, stained with tobacco smoke but so familiar. I still heard it sometimes, in bad dreams. I turned, shaking.
“Dmitri.” I didn’t have to question. I knew it would be him.
He stood, coming toward me, arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me against his chest. “Luna,” he said against my hair. “Luna, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Shaking, I pulled back from him. “Me? What the Hex are you doing here, Dmitri?”
He shook his head. His hair was longer, and it fell in his eyes. “Never mind. There’s time for questions later. Right now I have to g
et you out of here.”
“Good luck,” I said. “What do you think I was trying to do when you decided to get noble, genius? They take the girls who are beaten out of here!”
He blinked at me. “I didn’t realize…”
“No,” I said, jabbing a shaking finger into his chest. “You didn’t. So thanks a lot, Dmitri. Once again, your pathological need to play white knight has fucked up my perfectly good plan.”
His face drew into the frown I remembered so well. Dmitri and I had never been able to just sit still with one another—it was always fighting, sex, or sometimes both, one right after the other. “Oh, I’m the one that screwed up? I’m not the one who got herself tossed into a blood-sport cage match in the middle of a Ukrainian whorehouse!”
“Oh, so we’re going right back to the blame, are we?” I shot back. “Fine by me. By all means, go ahead and explain your virtuous and noble reason for being here in the first place!”
Dmitri’s nostrils flared. “We need to get out of here, Luna. Now. Do you want to fight, or do you want to run?”
I curled my fists, uncurled them. “Lead the way, Galahad.”
“Always with that mouth,” Dmitri growled. “You can never just let anything be.”
“Not this damsel,” I agreed as he eased the door open. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t stroll out with me. I’m a commodity. And I don’t have any clothes on.”
“I’m trying to ignore that last part,” Dmitri muttered. “As to the first, just be quiet and stick close.”
Now I remembered why I hated alpha males so much. They always had that damn know-it-all attitude, too smug for words. “I’m not budging unless you share this plan with me,” I said as we slipped into the hall. Dmitri cocked his eyebrow at me.
“You’d rather stay here?”
“Talk fast,” I said as he started to walk.
“Cased the place before I came in,” he said. “There’s a service entrance off the catering kitchen in this building that backs up to a loading dock on the street. Kirov is waiting with a car.”
“Kirov would be your sidekick in short pants?” I said, acid on my tongue.
“He’s a member of the pack,” Dmitri said, opening a nondescript door that I’d passed in my search for a phone. Stairs, an empty hallway, a ghostly kitchen full of rusted equipment and dripping refrigerators, and I was out the door, as simple as that.
Dmitri smirked at me as I wrapped my arms around myself. It was freezing cold, but I didn’t care. I was free.
“Your car is this way, milady.”
I really hated alpha males.
Kirov, Dmitri’s friend, was a stocky man with a long ponytail that would have looked better on someone taller and thinner. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Not as pretty as you described, Dmitri.”
“Up yours, Fabio,” I said. Dmitri guided me into the back seat and shut the door.
“Drive. Those witch gangsters aren’t going to be thrilled when they find out I walked off with one of their girls.”
I couldn’t believe it was so easy for him. But that was the problem with Dmitri—everything was easy for him. He had never acted like anything was his fault when we were together, so why should he start now that he was here? Here, saving my ass. Dammit.
The car wound through narrow streets, gray stone buildings and small storefronts giving a deceptively quaint look to the place. I squinted out the windows. “Where the hell are we?”
“Kiev,” said Dmitri. “My home.”
“It’s lovely,” I said, deadpan, and leaned back against the seat. I didn’t intend to fall asleep, but my eyes fluttered closed, and when I woke up, Dmitri was putting me to bed.
I came awake alone, in a small room that was furnished with shabby furniture, but was clean and dry. Clothes were sitting on the chair by the bed, jeans, atank top and a plaid overshirt. Even underwear. Everything was my size.
The bed felt like heaven, but I pushed back the covers and got dressed, shoving the stained, bloody T-shirt into the trash can with deep satisfaction.
“I have to say, I’m sad to see that skimpy thing go,” Dmitri said from the doorway. “But you look better without all of that blood on you.”
I spun around, putting my hands up reflexively. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Relax,” he said. “Not long.”
“Dmitri Sandovsky, I was kidnapped and sold to a brothel. The next time you tell me to relax, I’m going to knock your fucking teeth in. Are we clear?”
He raised his hands, palms up. “I’m sorry. I apologize. I’m just still in shock that you’re even here.”
I sat back on the bed, wincing. Dmitri’s face instantly darkened. “What’s wrong?”
“I got cut,” I said shortly. The Russian’s face flashed in my mind, broken neck and all. I felt a surge of nausea.
“Where’s your bathroom?”
Dmitri pointed. “Down the hall … Are you all right?”
I bolted up and ran into the small white-tiled space, dropping my head over the toilet. There was nothing in my stomach, but I retched anyway, miserable, until Dmitri crouched next to me and pulled my sweaty hair out of my face.
“It’s fine. It’s fine, Luna. I’m here now.”
I looked up at Dmitri, into the eyes that I’d spent almost a year trying to forget, and I felt the dam on my emotion break with a snap against my chest. I leaned my head on his shoulder and started to sob.
“I screwed up, Dmitri. I screwed up and I’m here, and I was in that horrible place…” I couldn’t breathe, so I just sobbed some more.
Dmitri put his arms around me. “Luna, the girl I knew would never screw up that badly. Everything is going to be all right.”
I sniffed hard, and scrubbed at my eyes. “You don’t know the whole story.”
Dmitri stood up and opened the medicine chest over the sink. He pulled out antiseptic and bandages, and handed them to me. “You need help?”
I unzipped my jeans and pushed them down to my knees, not caring that he was still around. “No.” I soaked a bandage in peroxide and dabbed at the cuts, wincing. “I don’t understand why these fucking things haven’t healed up yet. He didn’t even cut me that deeply.”
“Looks like you ran into a Poison Talon,” said Dmitri.
“Let me guess,” I said, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t yell from the sting. Whimpering in front of my ex-boyfriend was not on the agenda, for this day or any other. “Their claws secrete something that keeps me from healing up?”
“Bingo,” said Dmitri. “Nasty bastards, the whole bunch of them.”
I taped down bandages over my cuts and pulled my jeans back on. Dmitri’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything and neither did I. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.
“Which one?” he said, handing me a washcloth. I ran cold water into the sink and started to wash off all the blood that I could.
“Why you were in that brothel,” I said.
Dmitri sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated like, you-pay-for-sex complicated, or you’re-in-the-mob complicated?” I wrung out the cloth and looked him in the eye.
“Luna, do you honestly think I need to pay for sex? Or would join the mob? Especially the Belikov mob?”
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was sporting a nasty bruise along my cheekbone from where Esperanza had clocked me and scratches on my clavicle from Grigorii. I buttoned the shirt to cover them. I didn’t want to remember Grigorii. “I don’t know, Dmitri,” I said. “I don’t know much right now.”
He sighed. “I was there to help a pack member. It was something that needed to be handled delicately, because the Belikovs are the biggest witches in this city and fucking nasty types on top of that. And then … there you were. Imagine my surprise.”
“Likewise,” I said. Dmitri moved closer to me, and I backed up until I was against the sink.
“I missed you, Luna. Every day since I le
ft. There wasn’t an hour that you weren’t in my thoughts.”
I looked away from him, fixing my eyes on a crack in the tile wall rather than even try to answer.
“Luna?” he said again.
“We ended, Dmitri,” I said finally. I stepped forward so he’d either have to back up or do a Super Bowl–style chest bump with me. “I’m eternally grateful to you for getting me out of that place, but there’s no us anymore, and frankly it would be miles less stressful if we could just agree on that and move on.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Do you ever think that no more us was a mistake?” he asked softly.
“Never,” I said, too quickly to be anything but a lie. Of course I wondered if I’d backed out too soon. Of course I wondered if things ever could have been lasting between us.
But when I thought about it, the answer was always no. Dmitri and I didn’t work long-term. It was a flash, a melting point of lust, and that was all we’d ever really had.
“You’re a bad liar,” Dmitri said, moving again, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. After days in the Belikov brothel, close contact with another were was about on par with kissing one of Dr. Kronen’s rotted corpses.
“How’s the daemon?” I said, knowing that the question would snap him back. He grunted and dropped his hands.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Since we’re all hot for the personal questions, yes. I do.” I crossed my arms.
Dmitri pulled back the arm of his shirt and I hissed. Whatever I’d expected to see, it wasn’t that.
Bitten by a were possessed by a daemon, Dmitri had been infected with daemon blood, and the corruption had slowly overtaken his own monster, turning him into a man who had violent blackouts, fits of anger that terrified me more than I’d ever let on. It weakened him, too, made him a prisoner of the daemon as his own pack magick was leached away.
Daemon’s Mark Page 17
