Arena Wars Trilogy

by Hoffman, Samantha

  I yawned, and stretched my arms up over my head. “No, I’m good,” Quinten said. “It’ll just be a minute.”

  “How come you didn’t wake me when you got up earlier? You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late.”

  He shrugged. “Violet said to let you get all the rest you needed. We’re going out in a little bit. Don’t worry, Violet will keep me safe. Just stay here and relax. I know you were sick last night. Ray used to do that too, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It started right after I enrolled in school. He’d sit around worrying about me, and he’d even come check up on me. That’s why he was there to save me from Eli. That’s the day he killed Eli’s mate, and almost killed Eli, too. I can’t help but think that our lives would be much simpler right now if Ray hadn’t missed.”

  Quinten dropped a paper plate of scrambled eggs, ham, and toast in front of me. “Eat,” he said, rubbing my shoulders gently. I moaned, let my head fall back, and took a deep breath. Quinten chuckled, and increased the pressure of his hands. “I’m gonna go. You’ll be alright here alone for a bit?”

  I nodded, and he moved away. Violet appeared in a dark green sundress, flip flops, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed white hat. She looked the part of a mother taking a stroll through the city with her son, instead of the semi-crazy vampire hunter she most likely was.

  She looked at me. “Relax while we’re gone, and we’ll get some more serious training in when we get back. Then we can all sit down, unwind, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know to survive Roger Mason.”

  “We know everything about Roger. We know about his past, his anger problems, his psychotic tendencies, and how cruel he can be.”

  She paused at the door, and looked at me. “There’s something you don’t know about him. Something that will explain why he does what he does. Once you see what I have to show you, you’ll understand.”

  I wanted to ask her more, but she was already out the door. Quinten just shrugged at me, and followed her out. He closed the door behind them, and left me alone in the apartment. I wanted to be with him, but I didn’t want to have to watch him feed on some strange person neither of us knew.

  So I settled for reclining on the couch. I flipped through the few channels on Violet’s small television set, and frowned when a news report popped up. A young, female reporter stood in front of a group of trees that I recognized, because I’d run by them a couple of times.

  She was near Roger’s home.

  I turned up the volume, and listened.

  “Three days ago, the bodies of six men were found by hikers, buried in shallow graves in this patch of trees behind me. All six have remained unidentified at this point, but police say they are working around the clock to not only identify them, but find the culprits responsible. Secret sources inside the department have told us that the police believe the murders to be the work of one deranged serial killer. All six victims had their throats torn, as if done by some wild animal. We are dealing with a truly sick individual, and police have issued a warning to all residents in the nearby area to go nowhere alone.

  “Though the victims so far have only been male, the police are not ruling out the possibility of female victims in the future. Everybody needs to be on the lookout for anybody they believe might be a threat to themselves or others. If you have any tips, call the hotline the police have set up.”

  The police hotline number flashed across the bottom of the screen in large, white numbers.

  “More on this breaking murder investigation tonight at eleven.”

  I turned the television off, and just sat on the couch in the quiet apartment, thinking to myself. Roger really did kill his remaining guards, and Ilene helped him dispose of the bodies. That made her an accessory to murder. If Ray called the police, he could probably have his daughter arrested and sent to jail for the rest of her life.

  Of course, she’d never get to the jailhouse. Someone in our community with power and influence would bribe whoever necessary to have her released, and the trial would take place with our own judge and jury. A werewolf couldn’t be sentenced to any normal prison, because they would never age. The guards and other prisoners would notice something eventually.

  Of course, she’d probably just get off with a slap on the wrist and a fine, seeing as she was Roger Mason’s mate. There wasn’t much that Ilene could do to land her in real trouble; she’d probably have to assassinate one of the members of the Council to ever see the inside of a jail cell.

  And all I had to do was love Quinten, and I spent time in a cell. It’s not fair. Just because I chose to love someone they don’t approve of, they tried to execute me. Roger and Ilene kill six people and nothing happens. It’s not fair that money and power buys things, and buys people.

  I sighed, and rubbed the sides of my head. I could feel a headache coming on, and I wanted to nip it in the bud, but I wasn’t sure how. Ray told me once to drink a lot of water, and try to get as much rest as possible. Once in the tenth grade, a friend told me that having sex was a natural way to stop a headache in its tracks.

  Quinten’s not here though.

  I lay back against the couch, closed my eyes, and tried not to clench my teeth against the slow pounding in my head. Every time my heart beat, my head throbbed, and I finally gave up on trying to rest. Instead, I just stared at the ceiling, waiting for Quinten and Violet to return.

  During the two and a half hours they were gone I drank five glasses of water, used the bathroom twice, and battled my growing headache. When they finally returned, I was so happy I jumped off the couch and into his arms. He caught me easily, and placed a light kiss on my lips.

  “Miss me?” he asked with a grin.

  I tried to ignore the flush to his cheeks, his deep breathing, and the dilated pupils that all indicated having recently fed on someone, and instead focused on enjoying his presence. He set me down, wrapped an arm around my waist, and led me over to the couch. His arm was tense around my waist, and I immediately realized that something was wrong with him.

  Violet disappeared into her bedroom for a few minutes. When she came back out, she was dressed in jeans and a sweater, and she was carrying a picture in her hands. She took a seat on the couch beside us, and hid the front of the photo from me. “I’m going to show you something. Once you see this, you’ll understand why Roger is doing everything to you that he is.”

  I took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright.”

  She showed me the picture, and my mouth dropped open. The picture was of a painting. The painting was of Roger’s mansion, and a younger, saner, happier version of Roger was standing there. Four little kids were sitting in the grass at his feet, and a young woman that could only be Charlotte was standing there on his arm.

  Her hair was long, and a dark auburn color and her eyes were a piercing, vibrant blue. She was of medium height and build; she wasn’t particularly beautiful, but her smile was heart-warming and it made her look prettier. She and I could pass for sisters, if I was a few years older.

  Roger thinks I’m the reincarnation of Charlotte!

  “My guess is that when Roger first met you, he didn’t see you, he saw Charlotte. In his mind, you’re his, you’re meant to be with him, not Quinten. I think that’s why he’s so obsessed with you two. Werewolves believe that their mates are reborn into the world after they die, and he’s been waiting for many, many years for Charlotte to return to him.”

  “And he thinks I’m Charlotte, and he doesn’t know why I refused to be his mate. That’s why he’s so angry. When we first met, I hated him the moment I saw him, and he knows that. He thinks I’ve spurned him.”

  “He also sees Quinten as competition. I’m not a mind reader, so I can’t know what Roger’s thinking, but he probably thinks that if he gets rid of Quinten, you’ll be more likely to return to him. At least, he did, until the two of you bonded. Now he’s realized that you’re not Charlotte, and he wants to destroy the both of you, because you remind him of her.”

&
nbsp; “So, he was obsessed with me, because he thought I was his second chance at happiness, and now he’s obsessed with killing me, because he knows he was wrong.”

  Violet nodded. “Yes. That pretty much sums it all up. How long has he been chasing after you?”

  “It’s been over a month, I think.”

  Quinten nodded. “Yeah, over a month.”

  “I think the two of you need to stay here and train,” Violet said, leaning back. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. I know I look like somebody’s grandmother, but I really am capable of helping you. I can train you, and help you two survive long enough to be free of Roger Mason. What do you two think?”

  “I think we need to train,” I said without hesitation. “If Roger keeps sending men after us, we’re going to need all the practice and help we can get, or we won’t survive long.” I glance discreetly down at my chest, knowing that there was still a thin pink line. It hadn’t gotten any better, and I started to wonder if it would ever heal.

  Werewolves seldom had scars, but it wasn’t impossible. Sometimes, after werewolves had to heal from multiple dangerous wounds in a short period of time, the healing process slowed down or even stopped. Roger hunted vampires for a while after being turned, and sustained numerous injuries. Then he got the one on his face, and it didn’t heal all the way.

  That was happening to me. The fight with Roger, the fight with the Seekers, and the fights in the Arena were all starting to add up. If I didn’t start getting some time to heal in between injuries, it was going to catch up with me, and I’d get seriously injured, and I wouldn’t heal.

  Quinten grabbed my hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He had to know what I was thinking about. He’d seen the scar last night when we went to sleep. He knew I was worried it wouldn’t heal.

  “Alright then,” Violet said, standing. “Let’s get training. Alanna, are you feeling up to it?

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  Violet led us back to her training room, and I dropped down onto a mat beside Quinten. He and I did crunches under Violet’s watchful eye. When she thought we were slowing down, she snapped at us to go faster. She even told us better, easier ways to do them.

  Violet left the room to make a phone call, and I turned to Quinten.

  “Quinten? Are you alright?”

  “No,” he said, stopping his crunches. “I almost hurt someone in town today.”

  “What happened?” I asked, looking at him. “I thought your control was getting better.”

  He flinched. “Alanna, I’m still a wild animal. My control won’t be good for a while. It’s ok enough for me to feed from you without supervision, because you’re strong and can heal fast. But I still need someone with me any other time, and I’m glad Violet was with me today.”

  “What happened?” I asked again.

  “We were following this man, and Violet was telling me the best way to get him alone, and I was trying to listen, I really was. But then this woman caught my attention.”

  I looked away.

  “It wasn’t her heartbeat that drove me crazy though. It was her baby’s heartbeat. She was pregnant, ready to pop, and I could hear her baby’s heart. It was faster, and shallower than hers, and it was calling to me. If Violet hadn’t been there to stop me, I would have killed her and her baby.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “Quinten–”

  “I’m a monster,” he said, shaking my hand off. “Come on, we need to keep going.”

  He got up from the mat, and started lifting weights. He lifted way more than I ever could, and for a minute I watched him, amazed. I didn’t even notice that Violet had come back into the room until she snapped her fingers in my face to get my attention. “Pay attention. You two spend way too much time focusing on each other instead of your surroundings, and it’s gonna get you killed.”

  “Sorry,” I said, turning over to do pushups. Violet watched me, and I got the feeling she had something else she wanted to say. “Violet?”

  “I’m just thinking about how difficult this is going to be for the two of you. You guys are in for the fight of your life.”

  “We survived the Arena Wars, we’ll survive anything,” I said stubbornly. “There is nothing that can keep us apart.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Violet said, looking between the two of us.

  *****

  Later that night, Violet took the two of us out of the apartment. She wanted us to act as bait, so we could lure out anybody that might be hunting or us. She was sure that somebody would take the bait and attack, and then she and Quinten could haul them back to the apartment, where he would be questioned about Roger’s plans.

  It took three nights for Violet’s plan to work.

  On the third night, Quinten and I walked down the street, arms linked together, looking like any normal couple out for a nightly stroll. I could smell the werewolf before I could see him, and I tightened my grip on Quinten’s arm. He nodded his head slightly to show he understood, and he whispered in my ear.

  Per Violet’s orders, I giggled girlishly, and let Quinten lead me into a darkened alley. We stopped halfway down, and Quinten pushed me up against the brick wall of a building. Then he kissed me passionately, trying to make it look like we were too oblivious to anything but each other to hear his approach.

  When he got within ten yards of us, Violet dropped down from the roof, six stories up, landing in a crouch behind him. He spun, the knife in his pocket coming out, and he glared at her. But I could see the worry in the way he stood. “Outta my way, vamp. My quarrel isn’t with you.”

  “Yes, it is,” Violet hissed, baring her fangs in a snarl. I could tell just by looking at her that she was thinking of the mate that was taken from her, and I hoped she didn’t kill this man. We needed him for information, and dead men didn’t talk.

  “Violet,” Quinten warned, noticing the same thing I had. “We need him for answers.”

  She relaxed a little, but didn’t take her eyes off the werewolf between us. “You’re coming with us,” she said tightly. “And you’re gonna answer some questions we have for you.”

  He tensed, and tightened the grip on his knife. He looked left and right, searching for a way out, and I felt Quinten tense up next to me. The second the werewolf moved, Quinten was ready. He veered to the left, trying to run past Violet, and Quinten landed on his back, bringing him down hard on the ground.

  The werewolf swore, kicked, and threatened Quinten, but Quinten never loosened his grip. He and Violet lifted the werewolf from the ground, and began dragging him farther into the alley. I had to run to keep up with them as they carried him, kicking, scratching and biting, back to Violet’s apartment.

  I shut the door behind us, and Quinten threw the werewolf down onto the couch. Violet stood guard at the door in case he tried to escape, and I took my place by Quinten’s side. I’d never really been scared of Quinten before, because I knew the sweet, humorous boy that loved me, but this guy didn’t. He looked terrified, and I didn’t blame him.

  Quinten’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he flexed them dangerously. Quinten wasn’t really muscular, but he did look dangerous, mostly because he looked pissed off. His face was tight with uncontrolled anger, his nostrils flared, and his hands were clenched tight.

  “We’re gonna ask you some questions, and you’re gonna answer them,” he said, taking a step forward. “And try not to lie.”

  The werewolf pressed himself against the couch, trying to get as far away from Quinten as possible. He was powerful, but he was outnumbered there three against one, and he knew he couldn’t win in a fight. It didn’t help his case that he’d only been a werewolf for a few years. I could tell, because he didn’t have the same timeless grace that the others had. He still moved like a human, betraying his age.

  I placed my hand on Quinten’s shoulder, and he stepped back a bit. “Let’s start easy,” I said, looking at him. “What’s your name?”

  His frightened eyes
went wide, and he looked at me. “G-Gary.”

  “Alright Gary, what are you doing out here? What do you want with me and my mate?” I asked, trying to come across as understanding.

  He frowned. “I don’t think I should–”

  “Answer her!” Quinten snapped.

  Gary cowered back a bit, and I put my hand on Quinten’s shoulder. “He’s young, cut him some slack.”

  “Alanna, he came here with the intent of killing us, and you think we should cut him some slack?”

  “I think bullying him isn’t going to get the answers we need,” I said, looking back at Gary. “It’s alright. Tell us why you’re here.”

  “Roger Mason offered a secret one hundred thousand dollar bounty to anyone that could kill the two of you and bring him the bodies. He went crazy over the two of you after the Council cleared you and refused to have you executed. I don’t know why he wants you dead, and I didn’t really think I stood a chance, but I needed the money, badly.”

  Quinten sniffed in disdain. “You’re nothing but a pathetic coward that hoped to get an easy payday. You didn’t actually think that Roger would pay you for killing us, did you? He’s gonna kill whoever collects the reward and then hide the body so he can’t be connected. He’s a monster, and if you think otherwise, you’re an idiot.”

  Gary cowered again, and started sniffling. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, even with his immortal years tacked on, and right now he was afraid he was going to die. I took a step forward. “Gary, how many other people have taken Roger up on his offer?”

  He shook his head back and forth, nearly hyperventilating. “I don’t know. A lot. I know of at least a dozen others that are interested in the reward. And it’s not just werewolves; I heard there are a few vampires that want in on the action. Of course, I don’t think they want the money; I think they just want something to torture and play with.”

  “Of course they do,” Quinten muttered angrily. “I can’t believe this. How does nobody see what a monster this guy is?”

  “He has them fooled,” Gary said, earning a glare from Quinten. “I mean, this guy is suave, man. He’s rich, powerful, famous, and everyone thinks of him as a war hero. They don’t doubt him for a minute, at least, not until they get up close and personal with him. Then it’s in the eyes; one look at them and you can see how crazy he really is. Same goes for his bitch of a mate.”