“And which race might this prisoner be?” Lucas asked between gulps of his third cup. He could already feel some of his strength returning, though it was still at a fraction of what he’d lost.
“That part doesn’t matter. I just need you to win.” Kerbasi had a determined glint in his eyes.
“Why should I?” Lucas wasn’t one to enjoy losing, but if it would make the guardian look bad he’d be sorely tempted.
“For the reward. I’ll bring you that steak dinner you were thinking about so hard the other day. The shaman in Fairbanks can acquire it for me so you can be sure it will meet with your standards.”
Lucas almost laughed. For one, Charlie didn’t care for him all that much and might be tempted to bring him a badly cooked steak—probably from a moose. Lucas shuddered. For two, everyone had different ideas about what made for a good steak, so even if the shaman did put in the extra effort to get a proper one it might not be up to Lucas’ standards. At this point, though, he’d gladly take what he could get. Food would do more to restore him than water did.
“I want two steaks, on two separate days, within a week of each other,” Lucas said. He might as well see how far he could go with this, but he had to be specific with Kerbasi or he’d get thwarted somehow.
The guardian shook his head. “Don’t be greedy.”
“Two steaks,” Lucas repeated.
“I could always bring Bartol instead. He’s almost as good as you are and would gladly take one steak as payment. As I recall, he hasn’t had anything to eat in at least six months. He’s more than due.”
Lucas stared up at the ceiling. Bartol was one of the only other prisoners he’d fought over the centuries who could put up a good fight. He didn’t just have a pretty face long ago—he’d once been a gladiator in ancient Rome during his youth. Kerbasi could use him instead and most likely get the same outcome.
“Very well,” Lucas said, meeting the guardian’s gaze once again. “One steak, but I want vegetables and water with it.”
Funny how when he wasn’t here he didn’t bother to eat more than once a day, but food became all-important after he arrived in Purgatory. If he got out of here eventually, he’d allow himself a binge. It had become somewhat of a ritual over the centuries, though he didn’t let anyone see him do it. He’d simply seize control of a human restaurant and have them cook for him until he felt fully sated. It took a full day or two to reach that point, but he allowed the employees breaks to rest between meals.
“Vegetables and water I can agree on.” The guardian nodded.
Kerbasi took a loincloth that had been sitting on the corner of the stone slab and handed it to Lucas. It had soft fabric to cover his groin and hardened leather hanging down the outside for additional protection. A stiff belt attached the two pieces together.
Even the guardians knew it was impractical to fight completely nude. Immortal men might be able to repair any damage within a short period, but the groin was still more sensitive than other parts of their bodies. Severe injuries could be enough to bring down an opponent and end a battle too quickly. He’d observed Melena use that weakness against her enemies before and it worked every time. Thankfully, she’d never used that trick against him even when they hadn’t been friendly with each other.
Lucas had some trouble putting the loincloth on with the manacles limiting his movement, but he’d had enough practice doing it before that he’d learned the trick of it. After he finished putting it on, Kerbasi took hold of his arm and guided him out of the room.
“Behave yourself until you’re in the cage. After that, you can let loose all you want.”
The area would already be sealed off by magic, ensuring Lucas couldn’t get far—he’d tested that once when he was down here before. The cage was made of the same type of metal as the manacles, which would inhibit his powers once he wasn’t chained anymore. The main difference being the cage wasn’t spelled to drain his physical strength. The guardians wanted the fight to be as bloody as possible.
Lucas looked forward to meeting his opponent as he walked toward the arena entrance. Between his interactions with the archangels and meetings with Eli, he had a lot of aggression to get out. He needed this battle and didn’t care who he had to fight so long as he got a chance to draw blood.
He and Kerbasi walked into a large chamber that was approximately fifty feet high and two hundred feet across. A square cage, slightly larger than a boxing ring, stood in the middle. About a dozen men wearing dark robes gathered around it, murmuring amongst each other. There were always a few spectators when he fought here, but this was far more than usual. They glanced at Lucas warily as he got close to them. He could pick out a few guardians with their glowing silver eyes, but the rest were guards.
A path opened as Kerbasi led him to one of the two cage entrances. On the other side, he could vaguely make out the shape of the man who must be his opponent. The thick bars and dim lighting prevented him from getting a clear view.
Kerbasi drew a key from the folds of his robe and unlocked the manacles. Lucas rubbed his wrists as soon as the weight of them fell away. The water had helped return some of his strength, but getting free of the manacles energized him more. He tipped his head up and allowed the rush to spread through his body. The more time he spent shackled, the more he forgot how much power the spelled metal took from him.
“Are you ready?” Kerbasi asked.
Lucas nodded. He hoped they didn’t spend too much time dawdling. The temptation to fight the audience instead was growing.
Kerbasi looked across the way at another guardian. “We’re ready when you are, Adiran.”
The other guardian moved around the cage toward Lucas’ opponent. A few seconds later someone let out a shrill whistle. The cage doors slid up and Kerbasi waved him inside. Across the way, one of the largest men Lucas had ever seen came bounding in. Corded muscle filled out his massive frame. His dark hair had been cut close to his head and his skin was so pale it might not have ever seen the sun. Those features didn’t bother Lucas; it was the man’s ice-cold eyes that shocked him. They were the color of a blue sky—and they glowed. What the hell was he?
All these thoughts ran through his head in no more than two seconds before his opponent came straight for him. Lucas ducked as a large fist flew toward his face. It missed him by half a foot and he took advantage of the opening to give the guy a shot in the gut. Steely abs met his knuckles, jarring his arm, but a loud grunt let him know the guy had felt the blow.
They stepped away from each other with the blue-eyed man taking a position in the middle of the cage. Lucas pranced around, working to get his opponent off-center. A loud shout from one of the guards had the guy glancing in that direction. He found himself on the stone floor a moment later.
Lucas straddled the bigger man’s waist and pounded his fists into his head with a speed that would appear little more than a blur to the human eye. His opponent tried to block him, but he was always a second too late moving his forearms. Blood sprayed from his nose and several of his teeth cracked. Lucas landed at least a dozen blows before his opponent shoved him off with enough force to throw him a few feet away. The man had strength. That much was apparent.
Lucas leapt to his feet and spun around, snapping out a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s face. The other guy hadn’t finished getting up and stumbled at the blow. It would have taken most men down, but this one just shook his head a little before returning to his fighting stance. He held his fists up much like a boxer. Someone had trained him, but it was clear he lacked experience.
Jeers and shouts came from all around them. Usually the fights weren’t as lively, but this battle had Purgatory’s denizens worked up. Lucas backed off and stood at the ready, waiting to see what the guy would do next. Might as well test his capabilities and make the fight interesting.
It bothered Lucas that his opponent’s nose was still bleeding, though. Most immortals would have healed the break in seconds. He looked too healthy for starva
tion to have slowed him down and the vibes coming off of him told Lucas that the man had considerable power and age on his side. It had to be that his race didn’t recover as fast from injuries.
A gleam lit the man’s blue eyes and he leaned forward on his feet. He was telegraphing his next move, but Lucas didn’t bother to brace himself. He’d let the man get one good strike in before he went back on the offense. It wouldn’t be any fun if things ended too fast.
His opponent barreled toward him like a lumbering ox. They collided with enough force to keep moving back until they slammed into the cage bars. The breath whooshed out of Lucas’ lungs. This guy might not heal quickly, but he had strength on his side—and he wasn’t backing off. He only retreated far enough to give himself space to pummel his fists into Lucas’ ribs.
Every strike cracked them like toothpicks and sharp pain lanced through him. Lucas had to get the man off of him before his chest got crushed under the onslaught. There weren’t too many opponents who could break his ribs so easily.
He head butted the guy in the nose, bringing forth a fresh surge of blood. Still the fists kept coming. Apparently, this man could handle a little pain and had no plans to stop. Gripping the bars behind him, Lucas lifted his knees up and kicked the man back with all his strength. His opponent went flying across the cage and landed hard on the stone floor ten feet away. With the manacles off, Lucas would only need a minute or two to heal his ribs. The trick was to buy himself time for that to happen.
The big guy already had that same gleam in his eyes as before that said he wanted to crush Lucas. Not that the brute would get the chance to do it again. When he rushed toward him this time, he found himself crashing into the cage wall alone. It took a moment for the man to realize what happened.
Lucas grinned when his opponent looked up at him. With the speed only a nephilim—or vampire—his age could manage, he’d leapt to the top of the cage and held on to the bars. It hurt his ribs to stretch that far, but it was better than getting hit like a sledgehammer again.
The guy tried jumping up, but apparently he didn’t have a career in basketball in his future. His bulky frame kept him close to the ground. Lucas let it drag out for about half a minute before swinging himself over and landing on a clear spot on the floor.
His opponent growled. “Finally decide to come down and fight like a man?”
He spoke in English. Interesting. The guardians had their own form of communication, but around Lucas they’d always spoken whatever vernacular was the most common for the time. All of Heaven’s minions had the ability to keep up with earth’s languages, but for some reason he hadn’t expected it from this guy.
“I would have welcomed you up there, but it appears you’re vertically challenged. What are you anyway?” Lucas asked.
Might as well draw this out a little longer. His ribs needed at least another minute to finish knitting back together. Damn Kerbasi and his starvation program that other guardians apparently didn’t use.
The man sneered. “If you don’t know what I am, nephilim, I’m not going to bother telling you.”
Lucas paced the cage, staying close to the bars. At least this way he could avoid being slammed into them again from a distance.
“Do you even have a name? Or did they not bother to give you one?” he asked. It never hurt to get your opponent a little riled up. They made more mistakes that way.
The guy let out a battle cry and came barreling across the cage. Lucas waited until the last second to slide out of the way. He watched as the idiot slammed head first into the bars. With the force he’d put behind it, that had to hurt. When the man put a hand to his head, rubbing it over his short hair, Lucas knew it had to have rattled him. After a moment, they guy turned around and glared. His eyes glowed an even brighter shade of blue than before.
“I don’t need a name,” he spit out.
“Is that what they tell you? How sad that they don’t think you’re even worthy of a name.” Lucas clucked his tongue, continuing to pace around the cage.
“We mine the ore that keeps all of you in shackles while you’re here.” He grinned, revealing still-broken teeth. “Remember that when you’re back in your cell looking through the bars I constructed.”
Did cockiness come with the race too?
Lucas gave a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose someone must do the guardians’ dirty work. If it makes you feel proud to be their slave, who am I to judge?”
The man let out a loud growl and charged once again. This time Lucas ducked down at the last moment and let his opponent sail right over him. He almost felt bad as he watched the guy plant face first into the stone floor and keep sliding until he hit the bars. One would think he’d learn to control his advances more. Not to mention he moved so slow it was easy for an experienced fighter to outmaneuver him.
“You know,” Lucas said, “I think I’m going to call you Ivan. You have the potential to grow into a formidable fighter someday and deserve a name for people to call you.”
The man rolled over and took a deep breath before pulling himself off the floor. At this rate, Lucas could just let him beat himself up. He hadn’t been this amused during a fight for a long time. Of course, that wouldn’t be sporting of him. He’d have to deal at least a few blows before it was over so the guy’s pride wouldn’t be entirely smashed.
“I’m formidable now,” he huffed, rubbing his thrice-broken nose. “What makes you think I want any name you give me?”
Lucas smiled. “Because whoever trained you before didn’t do a very good job. I’m showing you the weaknesses you need to improve on if you want to get better. And I know, deep down where you aren’t quite ready to acknowledge it, you’re already growing to respect me. Perhaps this is the first time you’ve truly been challenged.”
The blue-eyed man laughed. “You’ve clearly gone too long without food. Maybe I should let you win just so you can get the meal I heard your guardian offered.”
Enough talking. Lucas leapt across the cage and uppercut the guy in the chin. His head tilted back with the blow even as Lucas swept his leg out, knocking his opponent to the ground. Lucas hovered over him. “Accept the name and don’t let anyone take it from you. That’s my suggestion.”
Before the guy could blink, Lucas shoved a knee into his chest, grasped his head in his hands and snapped his neck. If the healing rate for other parts of him were anything to go by, it’d be a while before he woke up. Lucas stood and looked out the cage at the now quiet spectators.
“Game’s over. Next time—bring someone who can put up an actual fight. This,” he kicked his opponent’s leg, “is someone who’d be lucky to survive against humans on a real battlefield.”
Actually, Ivan would probably make it through that, but Lucas couldn’t resist annoying the guardians who’d put the poor guy in the cage. They should have known better.
The door opened and Kerbasi walked in. “That’s enough, Lucas. I think they got your point when you took the guy down.”
He had the manacles in his hands. This was always the hardest part, allowing them to be put back on after feeling his power again, but he couldn’t afford to get himself into too much trouble until the trial was over. Lucas forced himself lift his arms so the guardian could shackle him. He had to grit his teeth as he felt the cold metal slide against his skin, weakening him almost instantly. Now knowing who mined the ore for them, he was sorely tempted to kick at Ivan’s legs again before he left.
“What is he, anyway?” he asked Kerbasi.
The guardian took his arm and guided him out of the cage. “We call him and the others like him the nerou.”
“I’ve never met anyone like him before,” Lucas observed. The name of the race even sounded odd.
“That’s because there aren’t any on earth. They only live here,” Kerbasi replied.
“Mining ore?”
“Yes,” the guardian said. “Mining ore.”
“Why train them to fight?” Lucas asked.
“Th
at’s a question better suited for their guardian, Adiran, but I doubt he wants to speak with you just now. My best guess is he teaches them so they have something else to do during their free time. You know how restless immortals get if their days get too monotonous.”
True—the only thing worse than Kerbasi’s physical torture was being left in the black hole to rot. Yet there was something about the nerou that bothered him.
“The nerou aren’t native to Purgatory, are they?” Lucas asked.
Kerbasi glanced over at him. They were almost back to the side chamber where he’d been given water. “They are native to this place now—that’s all you need to know. I’d suggest focusing on the steak I’ll be bringing you tomorrow. That would be something more productive to be thinking about.”
Oh, Lucas would be thinking about it, but he’d be wondering about the nerou too.
“By the way,” Kerbasi guided him into the side chamber. “You’re not to mention who you fought with to the other nephilim—particularly Zoe. If you do, let’s just say Melena won’t survive what I do to you next.”
Chapter Ten
Little surprised Lucas anymore, but watching the guards push Eli chained and naked into the cell next to Bartol managed to startle him out of his doze. He’d never dreamed the psychologist would actually come down here. Much less that anyone would let him.
“Miss me, collaborator?” Lucas asked.
Eli frowned after the guards closed and locked his cell door. He kept trying to readjust his body as if that would help reduce the discomfort of ice freezing his ass. If he stayed in there long enough, he’d get over it. There wasn’t a position that would make him feel any better, but it was amusing to watch him try to find one.
“After listening to the three of you complain,” he said, sticking his hands under his ass cheeks, “I thought I’d check this place out for myself.”
So Lucas wasn’t the only one who’d been forced to endure the psychologist. The angels must think highly of Eli’s methods to keep using him.
Chained by Darkness (Sensor Series, Book 2.5) Page 7
