“Is that a new friend?” asked Tandor.
“Kinda,” she said, with a shrug. Gazing down at her empty coffee cup, she looked around for Pallaton. She loved coffee. Apparently her guardian didn’t think she needed caffeine. Finishing her eggs and chicken, she washed it down with the thick almond-flavored protein shake and ended with a belch.
“Tandor, train Blaze today,” said Pallaton, drifting down the table. “I have raised her to Class B after she tried to escape since she killed a Shadowguard. It’s my intention to have her fight as your partner.”
Tandor gave a nod. “I saw D’Aquilla yesterday, hanging around the practice arena. He’s brought a tough group in from Rome.”
“D’Aquilla has a strong foothold in Italy, but he only controls Rome and Venice since the rest is overrun with zombies,” said Pallaton. “His consigliore will remain in charge of Rome in his absence. He was jealous when he heard the Kaiser has claimed Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri as new territories and he wants to make a strong showing here.”
“What about the other vampire lords?” asked Tandor.
Blaze filled her cup with coffee while Pallaton watched, and he didn't object. She noticed how much he seemed to enjoy talking to Tandor, like Tandor was an old friend and not a prisoner, and she figured that had been their relationship at one time.
“The Turk has the northern United States,” said Pallaton. “Rafferty has L.A. in his pocket. Big Mike took Manhattan and the east coast. No one seems interested in Canada or Mexico, and there are nothing but rogue gangs and cutthroats in Central and Southern America. I don’t think any of the vampire lords are seriously trying to take care of the zombie population, but they’ll have to eventually if they intend to expand their borders.”
“Why doesn’t anyone want Canada or Mexico?” asked Blaze, wiping her mouth with her hand. After she spoke, she knew she’d broken some kind of rule. Tandor quieted and stared at his plate. Pallaton’s hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed, not hard, but firmly enough to let her know she was to remain quiet.
“It’s a shame you got caught up in politics, Tandor,” Pallaton said, his voice lowered. “As a crew chief, you could have done much more good here, rather than venturing out as an independent.” He paused. “Salustra is alive. She’s here.”
Blaze cut into her steak causing blood to seep from the raw meat. If she’d been at a restaurant, she’d have sent it back, but a prime cut of beef was unheard of at camp. Waste not, want not, she thought, selecting a large piece. Blaze started chewing, and chewed some more. Not getting anywhere with grinding the raw steak with her teeth, she swallowed it whole. The steak lodged in her throat. As she started to choke, Tandor patted her on the back. The piece shot out of her mouth and into the coffee mug.
“You’re not a snake,” said Tandor.
One of the fighters laughed, and then all were laughing, except Blaze. Then everyone got up from the table, ready to start practicing. She wasn’t at all happy as she stood up; fighting on a full stomach would make her vomit. Tandor waited for her.
“You’re supposed to wait 30 minutes after eating to swim,” said Blaze. “I didn’t eat much, but I don’t feel like working up a sweat. Can’t they let us digest our breakfast before we start fighting?”
“Pallaton did you a favor. He gave you only protein. Those who ate starch and sugar will not be fit for the games. You can always tell a Class F fighter by what they eat the night before a game. Your friend, Billy Bob, isn’t expected to live. He was allowed pure sugar.”
“You and Pallaton used to be friends?” asked Blaze. “Is that why he was so nice to you? Is that why he is looking out for my welfare?”
“We’re investments,” said Tandor, sounding angry. “He was a friend up until the moment he picked me as a fighter. We’re investments now, Blaze, and he’s only interested in making money. But once, yes, we used to be close. Things have changed.”
Tandor remained quiet all the way to the basketball arena, though Blaze imagined they’d eventually be taken out onto the football field so they could get a real feel for the arena before being forced to fight on Halloween night. They were followed by guards, leaving Blaze no recourse but to follow with the other fighters. Pallaton’s fighters went off on their own to practice. She scanned around the large gym until she recognized a few people. Heimdall and three of the Elite wore red scarves, marking them as Aldarik’s prisoners. Uther wore black, which meant he was owned by the Kaiser, and fought against a familiar figure with a handle bar moustache. It was Lieutenant Habit. Blaze had thought Habit had died at the Peak, but he’d been taken captive, along with other F.A. soldiers, all whom she recognized.
A coach walked by the line of prisoners and handed each person a weapon. Blaze was given a crossbow and a pouch filled with arrows. A katana was offered to Tandor. Blaze thought the vampire coaches were idiots, because Tandor could have fought his way out of the stadium with no problem. She remembered that Mr. Smith said vampires who were considered criminals were forced to fight in the games and noticed the annoying attorney standing with a group of men and women holding handguns, about to enter a large cage where half a dozen zombies were waiting. Gazing around the stadium, she saw a dozen guards holding rifles. It made no sense that the prisoners didn’t revolt and kill the vampires. Vampire coaches in track suits, with nothing more than clipboards in their hands would have made easy targets.
“There are more of us than guards,” said Blaze. “Why don’t we fight our way out?”
“There are surveillance cameras everywhere. We wouldn’t get far and too many humans could be harmed in the chaos,” said Tandor. “After your escape attempt yesterday, the guards have orders to kill anyone who runs. I need to work out with my sword a while, so go stand in line with the archers and focus on training. I’ll join you shortly.”
When Tandor started to walk off, she followed after him. “What happened to Whisper? Is he dead?”
Tandor glanced back at her. He kept his voice low. “Whisper isn’t with the prisoners and Pallaton hasn’t mentioned him. Why? You think he’s still in the Citadel?”
Saying nothing about what she’d seen in the theater the first night, Blaze watched Tandor join Uther and Lieutenant Habit. The men exchanged greetings and started swinging swords. Billy Bob wasn’t in the gym. Class F fighters obviously didn’t qualify for training. Blaze joined the line and watched two archers shooting zombies inside of a corral. When the archers used up all of their arrows, the next shooter took position at the line. After a while, a vampire boy went into the corral to fetch arrows out of the zombies. He moved fast and returned with his arms filled with black gooey arrows. Blaze was up next and was joined by an older man with a black beard. They both hit their mark every time. When she was finished shooting, Blaze went to the end of the line.
“You’re good,” said a girl with red hair and freckles. She wore a green scarf and was all skin and bones. “I came in on a bus with Billy Bob and a bunch of red necks. His cell is next to mine. You must be Blaze of the Fighting Tigers. He talked about you last night. You have a camp nearby? We didn’t have anything like that in Nashville.”
Blaze shrugged. “We’ve held out for about a year now, Nashville.”
“Some say the vampires spread the virus,” said the girl. “There’s always a conspiracy theory.”
“Turning people into zombies doesn’t seem to be an effective way of maintaining a healthy food source. Vampires can’t feed on zombies, but zombies sure feed on them.”
“Oh, the vamps have human breeding farms in Canada. My guardian, the Turk, comes from Chicago. He’s been running things ever since the virus broke out. It’s a vampire conspiracy, all right. Has to be. There are too many of them.”
It was Blaze’s turn to shoot again. She stepped up to the line with Nashville. While Blaze easily hit her moving targets with ease, Nashville was unsure of herself and took too long to shoot. Speed was everything. Blaze noticed the vampire coaches were watching and worri
ed for the girl and decided to offer a few tips.
“You need to shoot faster, Nashville,” Blazed advised her. “When you get nervous, your muscles freeze up. You need to relax. Pick your shot. If you miss, wait until they get close and shove an arrow through their eyes or mouths. And shove hard. Take out the brain and you have nothing to worry about.”
Nashville gave a shrug. “Yeah, well, I didn’t survive on the streets this long without killing a few on my own.” She missed her next shot. “That hardly ever happens.”
Blaze didn’t believe a thing the girl said. She leaned over the fence and whistled at the zombies. One heard, a kid who looked like a former tennis player minus a knee cap, and stumbled over to her. His thin body was pierced with so many arrows that he resembled a pin cushion. It hardly seemed fair to shoot him again. Instead, Blaze stuck her arm over the fence and wiggled her hand at the zombie. The tennis zombie caught her scent and headed toward Blaze.
“What are you doing?” asked Nashville, gasping out loud.
“Teaching you how to stay alive,” Blaze said. “When he gets up to the fence, stab him in the head.” She kept her arm over the fence until the zombie was nearly upon her, and then jerked her hand back. The zombie gnashed the air where her arm had been and let out a loud, desperate moan. “What are you waiting for? Stab the dumb thing in the head, will you?”
Nashville was shaking so hard she could barely hold onto the arrow. The tennis zombie came right up to the fence, slamming into the railing. Two more zombies were attracted by the commotion. A police officer with a hole in his throat and a businessman missing his stomach turned away from the main group, heading toward Blaze and Nashville. Zombies weren’t smart, but they were hungry and could smell humans. All started toward the fence.
“Look what you’ve done,” Nashville said.
The tennis zombie managed to grab hold of the railing and crawled over. He landed at Blaze’s feet. Nashville wasn’t going to be able to kill the zombie. Putting her foot on the zombie’s head, Blaze stomped down hard. The zombie’s skull cracked open and she mashed down again. With a shriek, Nashville dropped her bow and arrows to run to the back of the line.
“What’s the matter? I killed it,” Blaze called out.
Lifting her crossbow, Blaze shot the zombie cop in the eye and smiled as it fell with a thud. The zombie in the business suit had worked itself into a frenzy and started to climb over the railing. Blaze noticed that none of the vampire coaches were coming over to help. Some idiot behind her fired off shots, so Blaze ran out of the way, circling the corral and started shooting zombies. When she came back around to the archers, the zombies were crawling over the railing. Using her crossbow like a bat, Blaze swung hard and clobbered a zombie in the head.
Blazed turned and stared at a dozen dumbfounded archers. “Seriously, people. Aren’t any of you idiots going to help me? Zombies don’t take time-outs.”
The man with the black beard came up to Blaze. He lifted his bow and fired. This time he missed. A woman with a red scarf stepped forward and fired her bow at a zombie leaning over the fence. She hit the target. Several more archers joined Blaze as the top railing came crashing down. The zombies stumbled forward. Two fell down but and the rest shambled forward. Everyone in line ran, except for Blaze, the woman in red, and the man with the black beard. Keeping together, they fired at the approaching zombies, backing up at the same time and shooting again. When every zombie was dead, the woman and man came up and patted Blaze on the back.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” asked the bearded man.
“I’m a Fighting Tiger,” said Blaze. “Ever hear of us?”
The man shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not from around here.”
A coach wearing a purple jogging suit came up to Blaze and her two new friends. “You two must have seen action in the past. You’re both moving up to Class B with Blaze,” he said. “Maybe you won’t get eaten tomorrow night.”
“That was a close call back there,” said the woman, once the vampire walked off. She followed Blaze over to the water table. “Nothing seems to get to you. You been on the circuit long?”
“I’m new like you,” said Blaze. She scrutinized the woman, guessing her to be in her thirties, in good shape, and clearly no coward. “You’re handy in a fight, lady. Why don’t you come with me? I’m headed back to my camp. Both of you can tag along, if you want.”
The bearded man gave her an odd look. “They’re watching us.”
Blaze noticed the rest of the archers were being rounded up by the coaches. The dead zombies were carried out and the corral was quickly repaired. More zombies were brought in to replace the ones Blaze and the other two had killed. The archers were lined up again. Nashville was back in line and holding a new bow. Blaze hung back. The bearded man and woman with the red scarf lingered at the table.
“You have a plan to get out of here?” asked the woman.
“Something like that,” stated Blaze. She finished off the water and wiped her mouth across her sleeve. “I’m walking out. Right under their noses.”
The woman stared down at her water bottle. “They have security cameras set up all over the place. It’s hopeless, Blaze. I can only hope to kill my opponent. That’s how things work around here.”
“Not in my world,” said Blaze.
Glancing over at the exit again, Blaze started walking, not caring if she was watched or not. No one stopped her. She walked into the tunnel and came out into the main corridor. It was like any other basketball arena, so she took off toward the main doors. As she grabbed the metal bar and started to push, letting in a little sunlight from the outside, she heard someone say her name.
A familiar head popped up from behind a snack counter. Seeing Whisper’s dreadlocks, Blaze almost let out a shriek as she ran toward the counter. She dove over it, hitting the ground on her side, finding Whisper smiling at her. At the sound of footsteps rushing into the entry, Whisper placed his finger over his lips.
“Blaze? Where are you?” Pallaton sounded angry.
Blaze pressed against Whisper as they vampires rushed past the counter. His face was made up to be pale, with dark circles painted under his eyes. She figured he’d found makeup in the theater, along with a black trench coat in order to appear like one of the Shadowguard. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her as the sounds of footsteps faded.
“What now?” asked Blaze, softly.
His lips pressed against her ear. “I’m getting you out of here. Follow me.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
After midnight, Thor sat in a recliner in the sport’s bar at the Broadmoor Hotel, sipping a cold beer. Cadence sat in the chair next to him, drinking coffee. The hotel was in good shape; the rooms were nice, with clean sheets and plenty of running water. The bar was impeccably clean, stocked with booze, ice, and snack foods. If Thor hadn’t known differently, he would have simply thought the management was remodeling and not quite finished. He didn’t mind being tossed out of camp or accused of being a mutant if it meant life in a luxury hotel.
With only a handful of Dark Angels to guard the hotel, though, Thor felt exposed. Boards covered the windows, the glass having been broken out, which prevented anyone from seeing in or out, but he had the feeling the Shadowguard could see, or at least hear, right through the boards and walls. Thor glanced over at Cadence. She hadn’t said anything about Highbrow, but she didn’t have to. Her emotions were plainly written on her face; Cadence was hurting.
The Death Games were being broadcast on TV, and the current event had been filmed previously in NYC. The reruns were hosted by the show’s founder, producer, and director, the ‘Kaiser of the Rockies.’ Each fight was bloodier than the last. The first season of fights was being recapped on every single station.
“Dinner is served,” called Lachlan.
The Irishman came in with a tray of grilled cheese and tuna fish sandwiches. Betsy had provided a sack full of groceries before the team le
ft camp, making sure they left with fresh vegetables and baked bread. Xena sat at the bar stuffing chips in her mouth, pretending they weren’t stale. Lachlan set the tray down and went behind the bar to mix drinks.
“Picasso used to fight in the games,” said Lachlan. “He won more than sixty fights before he called it quits. In the vampire world, Picasso is a pretty big deal.”
Across the screen in big letters scrolled ‘Watch Tomorrow Night’s Halloween Death Fights at 8:00 P.M. brought to you by the Kaiser.’ The banner went by and another rerun started. Thor went over to the bar to grab a paper plate, placed two grilled cheese sandwiches in the center, and returned to where he’d been sitting. He offered Cadence a sandwich. She reached for one, took a huge bite, and placed it back on the plate.
“Will Federov be there tomorrow night?” asked Cadence. “I guess he’s the reigning international champion. He’s won every fight he’s been in.”
Lachlan glanced at the flat screen TV. “Keep watching. Federov is the broad-shouldered vamp in the red. His last match is against the Greek champion, Aries. It’s coming up next.” He turned on the blender to make margaritas.
“What good does it do sitting around here, pretending we’re not all orphans,” said Rafe. “We should load up the trucks and head over to the Citadel. If we’re going to free Dragon and the others, that’s where we need to be.”
The former leader of the Dark Angels sat at a card table, playing poker with Luna, Barbarella, and Skye. Sheena lay on a couch, reading a book. The werepumas had taken showers and put on clean clothes. Phoenix sat on a couch, and the two wolves, Moon Dog and Red Hawk, lay on the floor in front of her. Thor hadn’t seen either wolf brother in their human forms. Both acted more like faithful dogs than grown men. He’d been surprised when they’d stayed with the team instead of returning to their tribe.
Cricket came in and joined Phoenix on the couch, reaching down to stroke Red Hawk between the ears. He thumped his tail and licked at her hand. Thor found it a little disgusting, considering Red Hawk didn’t think like a wolf.
Dead Hearts (Book 2): Forsaken Hearts Page 21
