by Angela White
Iram smiled at the thought, ignoring the other masters. Conquering the United States had long been a dream of his. The arrival of this woman was fate telling him it was time to build that future.
Satisfied he knew what was happening, Iram turned to Xavier. “I move that we adjourn to the meeting room for a discussion.”
2
“It’s been hours,” Rice complained again from his seat along the waiting wall with Kendle and the other bidders. “Come on, already.”
Kendle ignored him. She’d listened to the shouts and the sounds of items breaking in the master’s meeting room, but she was really working on the rest of her plan. If they said no, she would try to break her team out using power. If they said yes, she was about to spill blood in front of a crowd. Both were unnerving, but she couldn’t let them know. She was trying to remain emotionless to everyone watching her for weaknesses in case they got to bet on her later.
“Hours!”
Kendle gave Rice a curt glare, silencing him.
“Attention, slave bidders,” Iram called loudly through the speakers above them. “A bid has been accepted for the entire lot. Thank you for your offers. Slaves are brought in every three days. Please try again.”
“That’s you!” Rice verified. “No one else could afford them all. You did it!”
Kendle turned away from his excitement. She couldn’t stand him right now and he was in danger. The jump her nerves had just taken was astounding. She was risking all their lives on her fighting skills, and while she’d had various lessons and some prewar training before assignments, she didn’t feel like a killer now. She didn’t feel like the mad woman who had hunted with the Ghost and his riders. She felt lost.
Kendle left the market, positive Rice would find her later with all the details. Right now, she needed to be somewhere quiet to get her plan straight.
Why? her demon inquired. What worries you?
How did they get Renda to consent? Kendle asked. What did they give her?
Your life, I would guess, the demon replied.
Yeah, but when? Will she stick me right before the last match or get me after the first? I have to anticipate her attack or we’ll be in chains. I didn’t like them when Ethan tried it. I doubt it would be more fun with Renda.
The demon immediately began working on the problem. Neither of them had thought they would survive Ethan Kraft. They couldn’t be caged or chained again, bitten and bled. They would die first.
Kendle ignored the soothing mood of her demon’s protective rage. She didn’t need to relax. She needed to figure out a way to contact Angela without anyone knowing. That was infinitely harder than winning a few fights. Everywhere she’d gone today, she’d examined threatening signs warning about magic and magic users. This populace was aware that descendants walked among them, even if they didn’t know where the power came from, and they recognized the threat. Kendle was grateful it had only gone that far. When they could recognize the magic users on sight, this land would be scoured for them. Safe Haven had to step in, but Kendle couldn’t wait until this was over. If she lost, she and the team would be sold and this market from hell would continue to spread. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
Kendle strode confidently toward Rice’s residence, contemplating his brother, Baker, who’d actually been the decoy for the ambush.
You owe me, doughboy, she judged. Time to pay up.
Behind her, Bossy made a note in his book and followed as he’d been instructed to do.
3
“They made a final choice,” Rice informed her as he entered the home. The market sentry outside had told him where the scarred female was. “You’ll get details in the morning.”
“Good,” Kendle replied, sitting in Rice’s spot at the table.
His brother, face swelled and painful to look at, rose and exited through another door that connected them to the upstairs hallway.
“What was that?” Rice asked, lips pouting when she didn’t give him his seat.
“He didn’t think I should be fed,” Kendle lied, using her last chunk of bread to sop up the chili juice and remaining chunks of beef. “Also doesn’t want me to sleep here. Didn’t care for our deal.”
Rice frowned. “I’ll talk to him.”
Kendle shrugged, swallowing. She let out a loud belch. “You can stand watch over me until an hour before the market gates shut for the night.”
“You could get protection now,” he offered hopefully, clearly not wanting the duty. “The masters will protect their investment.”
“No,” Kendle denied, standing up. “You’re presence while I sleep is already too much.”
She went toward the closet where she’d slept before. “Don’t wake me late, but don’t come in here at all or you won’t make it out.”
She slammed the door before he could form a response.
Kendle collapsed as soon as she hit the thinly carpeted floor, falling into a deep sleep. It was dreamless this time as her body prepared for the challenge she’d set.
4
Knock-knock-knock!
It felt like she had just gotten comfortable, but Kendle forced herself up as the knocking sounded again.
“I’ve got it!” she shouted grouchily.
The footsteps faded.
Kendle checked her watch to verify that she had an hour. She glanced around and found nothing in the filthy, cluttered bedroom that she could use. Her supplies were almost gone, but she had more deals to make if the merchants were willing. It would depend on how the word was spreading. If citizens were getting excited, she might have good odds that would increase her value and her dealing power. If folks were still as bored as they’d been on her tour, she might have to steal what she needed. Around here, it was expected and that would make it harder.
Kendle began doing jumping jacks. She would do a warmup here and then run around the main grounds of the market until it closed. The demonstration and exercise would help clear her mind and help her with the matches.
“Ms. Roberts?”
Kendle froze in pain and surprise. They recognized me. Does that change anything?
“Yes?”
“I have food and some basic supplies for you. Iram sent them as a good faith gesture.”
“To increase the final bill, you mean,” Kendle muttered, but she opened the door and stepped back for Rice to carry the two small totes in.
Rice set them on the dresser and quickly left, not getting any closer to her than he had to.
“Can I donate things to slaves or individuals in collateral rooms?”
“Yes,” Rice answered in surprise. “That way the bill doesn’t grow larger. My family and I send half our daily rations.”
“Who is it?” Kendle asked. “Friends? In-laws?”
Rice winced, telling her she’d guessed correctly.
“It’s good of you to care for them anyway,” she offered, trying to show him that she respected people who did the right thing when it was hard.
“It was my wife’s family,” he explained. “They were visiting for the holiday.”
Kendle asked, “Your wife?”
“She died,” Rice whispered. “I had to bury her. They’ll do it for free if you burn or donate the body, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Sounds like an expensive burial,” Kendle commented, putting aside her plans of a workout in favor of a crazy scheme.
“I could have afforded it, but her father blames me for her death. He made a deal with the masters that I can’t match.”
“Who are they waiting on?” Kendle asked, picking up the totes.
“My wife’s youngest brother. He was a soldier.”
“What was the deal for?”
“The bids are sealed,” Rice reminded her. “They aren’t allowed to tell me until the boy returns or their time runs out, but I believe it’s a weapon or a load of them.”
“How much do they have?”
“Ten days, as of dawn.”
“Will you try to
buy them?”
“Of course. It’s why I was happy our family was chosen. I almost have enough to make an offer.”
“Will it be enough to save all of them?” she asked, hearing his uncertain timbre.
“I may have to choose some of them. I’m going to take the kids.”
Kendle almost choked on her rage. She paused in the doorway, aware of his remaining family watching them from the stairs and the soldier listening from outside. “Do I owe you anything beyond our deal?”
“No,” Rice replied apprehensively.
“Then stay away from me unless it’s important or I’ll break your neck.”
Kendle left him standing there in humiliation, gesturing cheerfully to the guard who wasn’t trying to hide himself or his amusement. “Let’s go.”
Kendle strolled toward the market, admiring the lanterns hung on old telephone poles and street posts. “Do you protect the slaves too?” she asked the male following her.
The sentry didn’t answer.
Kendle didn’t try again. She went to the gate.
It opened before she got there, the troops on it appearing relieved.
Kendle assumed the masters were worried she might skip town now that a deal had been made.
“Tell them I’m back,” she snarked. “Especially Renda.”
“Give ‘em hell, Ms. Roberts,” the black sentry muttered so that only she and his partner heard.
Kendle didn’t respond in case they weren’t allowed to show her support. She didn’t know the rules on that yet. In fact, she was making most of this up as she went along. She thought Angela would applaud the effort, if not the plans themselves, and not be pissed enough to fry her on the spot. She was already walking a thin line there. Screwing up this easy run might be enough to get her removed.
Do you really feel that way about Safe Haven after being here? the demon asked in surprise.
Kendle sighed. No. Be quiet.
The demon settled into a dark corner.
What else should I do? Kendle asked, choosing to use every advantage that she had.
I can help? The demon perked up eagerly. I can, you know.
Kendle said hello to the people passing her who stopped to stare and murmur. Get it organized and lay it out for me when I settle in for the night, she instructed. Too much attention right now.
Pleased, the demon got to work.
Kendle went through the checkpoint in front of the market with the same ease as the first gate. As it clanged behind her, she couldn’t help feeling like a prisoner. She was free to roam inside the walls, as far as she knew, but that wasn’t freedom.
The market stalls were shutting down and closing shades, blocking windows with boards and thick locks as Kendle entered. Lights were going off and voices were fading. Hoping she didn’t run into Renda, Kendle went to the slave wing first.
She stopped at the common section that Rice had shown her earlier, holding out the totes. “I brought supplies for my collateral.”
The Iranian guard waved her in, flashing thumbs up.
Storing it, Kendle still didn’t respond to the unexpected support of the troops.
The table in the center of the common zone held Conner and an older man that Kendle instantly knew was the father-in-law who hated Rice. It was in his glare as he spotted Kendle.
“I don’t want any more food from him!”
Kendle slammed the totes onto the rickety table between him and Conner. “Then take it from my boy, ‘cause I brought it for him.”
She looked at Conner, seeing he was relaxed enough to be sleepy. “Watch your six.”
The teenager nodded, no longer unhappy about being put in here. He was gathering information, something Kendle would need. “Word spread about you getting the best of Renda. The soldiers are watching my six for you.”
“Why?”
“They hate her, I assume,” Conner replied, yawning.
“Get some sleep,” Kendle ordered, ignoring the hopeful glances from the bunks. The three women and two children were filthy and thin. “But feed them before you crash.”
“I will,” Conner promised, ignoring the older man as he took the totes to the kids. “Here. Smells like fresh bread.”
Kendle exited the zone, this time giving the sentry a short smile of gratitude.
Fighting the urge to check on her team, Kendle took the stairs at the corner, climbing to the top floor. She wasn’t surprised that Yuri was pacing the hall outside the room he’d given her.
“Thank goodness!” he cried, rushing towards her.
Kendle tolerated his patting and groveling warnings not to be caught around the slaves. She went in, seeing he had replaced the blanket with a thicker quilt that didn’t have holes.
“We can’t have you falling ill, now can we?” he explained, chuckling.
Another addition to the tab, Kendle was still glad of it. She’d left her kit with Conner. It held her spare weapon and some ammo, but not much else. This blanket would allow her a good night’s sleep, providing she blocked the door.
Yuri waved toward the small square. “You have no partner. All yours!”
Kendle noted the book on the table. “Thanks.” She would check out the title once he was gone.
“I have also brought you food and water,” Yuri told her. “It is hidden in a box under the bed. Do not leave it out or the mice will be into it.”
“Thanks.” Kendle tried not to think about how big the bill would be by the time she left. “Anything else?”
Understanding she wanted to be alone, Yuri hurried to tell her, “They may ask for a demonstration. Eat, sleep, drink. Be ready.”
Kendle turned a hard stare on the short Russian. “I’ve got it covered.”
Yuri bobbed his head obediently. “Good, good. I will leave you now. Notify a guard if you need me and I will be at your–”
Kendle kicked the door shut in his face. “I almost like him.”
5
Kendle woke to the sound of a market in full swing. She glanced at her watch to discover it was nearly noon. She had forgotten to set her alarm and no one had woken her.
She leapt from the soft bed, grabbing clothes and boots. It took a couple of minutes to dress and gather her things, but she felt the time crunch as if it were hours. Why hadn’t they sent for her? Was her plan already toast?
Kendle calmed herself before going out, not sure what to expect. It certainly wasn’t to see Yuri perched at a new camouflage security post right across from her. The smell of paint was thick.
“What happened?” she asked.
Yuri held out a paper, grinning hugely. “We made the choice. There was no need to contact you for further details. The sleep was more beneficial.”
“My team and my boy?” she inquired, seeing there was a place at the bottom of the paper for her signature.
“All being cared for. I believe Renda ordered pizza for lunch.”
“The most expensive item on the downstairs menu,” Kendle pointed out.
“Yes.”
Remembering that it was standard procedure here, Kendle kept reading. “Series of fights… help with advertising…share of profits once the bill for my team and gear is paid…” Kendle choked on the next line. “A week from now?”
“There must be time for citizens to come and for the market to prepare,” Yuri explained. “It will not be sooner.”
Kendle swallowed the bile in her throat. She’d estimated a day or two of bills. Instead, she would have more than a week, counting the time she’d already spent. Then there was the time the fights took. Kendle skimmed for details. “One fight each night equals two slaves if the tickets sell out. If they sell over half, it’s worth one man. Under half gains only gear.”
Kendle went back into her den, once again kicking the door shut. She needed to study this and she needed to do it now.
When Kendle emerged again an hour later, Yuri was still at the table. She slid the paper in front of him, where her signature glared in bold print.
“I agree. To all of it, but I don’t know if I can wait a full week before I kill her. Tell them to schedule her as my first match.”
Yuri chuckled. “The masters set the schedule, my brave new friend. Renda will be the last one you battle. She is the best fighter here.”
“Not anymore.” Kendle grinned, letting her lust for blood come through. “Bet hard, Yuri. You’ll be rich when this is done.”
Yuri patted her hand, whispering, “I already am, my friend. I already am.”
“Then why live here?” Kendle stopped, hoping he would tell her.
“Why not?” he replied bitterly, turning toward the stairs to deliver her signed paper to the masters. “It’s not like I have better places to be now.”
Kendle could have argued, but didn’t. She returned to her cubby to contemplate the deal that would either save her team or cost all their lives. She had to figure out how she was going to win every fight without using her gifts, when even the Indians had given up on teaching her proper techniques. She’d been unable to control her rage long enough to learn much.
Kendle sighed, sinking down on the squeaky mattress. “I can’t fight. Other plans will have to be made.”
Chapter Eight
To Bluff or Not
October 1st
1
Marc watched the convoy of Army jeeps and trucks roll toward them, pretending that he still needed the binoculars to keep his guys from knowing how strong his gifts were getting. He had everyone in his mental grid, detecting with crystal clarity–right down to the powers that some of the enemy had. It was amazing. It was also isolating. He now had a better idea of how Angie had spent her life.
Marc narrowed in on the three jeeps in the lead, noting the cold postures of the riders and drivers. They hadn’t come dressed for the hard, packed snow banks that their jeeps were crunching through to reach the isolated road that would bring them to the meeting place. Winter was in full force. Shouldn’t people from the north be better prepared for the cold?
