by Tracey Ward
“It’s not. He could die. Easily.”
“Jesus, what is wrong with you?”
There are far too many answers to that question to even begin contemplating, so I ignore it all together.
“Anyone who steps into the Arena could die,” I remind her. “Even I could.”
“Oh, even you, huh?” she asks sarcastically.
“We could die in the Arena or we could die out in the wild. It doesn’t matter where we do it, it’s still death.”
“So that’s why you’re letting him fight? Because it doesn’t matter where he dies?”
“I told you, I’m not ‘letting him’ do anything. He’s a grown man. I’m supporting him because if he doesn’t kill something in here, he’ll try to kill it out there.” I point to the door behind me, full of dark night and endless doubt. Wolves he cannot win against and ghosts he cannot find. “And the odds of him dying alone on the street are a lot higher than him dying in here in the ring. At least in here I can help him.”
“Help him how? They’ll kill you if you interfere with a match.”
“They’d have to catch me first.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s likely you’ll never need to find out.”
She pauses, breathing deep and even. Her face is lit like wild fire, but it’s burning out. It’s fading as the winds shift and the rains come rolling in. Her eyes well with tears she’ll never shed. Not in front of me. Not again. “I’m trusting you to keep him safe. Am I crazy for doing that?”
“Probably.”
Freedom snorts a laugh. “You’re honest. Kevin always said that was his favorite thing about you.”
“There’s not a whole lot to choose from.”
“Not the way he told it.”
I don’t see any way to react to that, so I don’t.
Eventually Freedom stops waiting for me to figure out how to be human and nods, sniffing sharply. Her eyes have dried. “Fine. He’ll fight. But the second I get wind of any more surprises coming from Chapman, he stops. It’s over for good. Are you with me on that at least?”
“Yes.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“Okay.”
She frowns, minutely shaking her head. “You don’t have any of this under control, do you?”
“Not in the least,” I answer plainly, weirdly relieved to have my truth out in the open.
“Well, at least you know it. Most people think they’ve got it all figured out, they get cocky, and wake up dead.” She doesn’t give me a chance to be weird and silent before turning on her heel and walking away.
I wonder if she was referring to Kevin with that comment, but I know it’s better not to ask. It’s my experience you’re less likely to offend a woman with silence than with words. Words will almost always get me in trouble with anyone sporting less than two testicles.
“She’s mad,” Bray comments, voicing the obvious.
“She usually is.”
“She’s pissed Ryan’s fighting for the Hive tonight?”
I don’t answer him because he knows he’s right. He heard her just as clearly as I did. He’s trying to bait me into a conversation about the topic, but I don’t want to get into it. I’ve been through the argument with Ryan, Dylan, and myself every hour of every day for the last four days. I’m not in the mood to hash it out with Bray too.
He lets it go for a few seconds before nodding in understanding. “You care if I take a lap?”
“Take two if you feel like it.”
He disappears quickly, swallowed up by the crowd.
This has always felt stupid to me; a room full of the living with nothing between them and the dead but some old bits of metal and the meticulousness of a few Hive members that probably couldn’t be trusted with the soft serve machine at McDonald’s. It’s a recipe for disaster. It made more sense the way it was run in the early days. I never saw it, I was living alone on the coast back then, but I’ve heard about it. Vin ran that Arena too, only it was called the Underground. Some people still call it that, whimsically, like they miss those days. It was more of a boxing ring or MMA when it started. Men fighting men, not Risen. But people got comfortable with that formula and they had to up the ante to put asses in seats. That’s when they brought in Risen. They were a gimmick to keep things fresh, like the Blind. Like wolves. What’s next? Train the dead to fight the dead? You’d have to cover them in human remains, dressing them in our skin, and if we get to the point where that is our entertainment, I’m done with humanity. I’ll head for the woods and never stop walking.
I stiffen, contemplating the start of that trek right now.
“Hey, handsome,” a girl sings to me.
She saunters over, her creamy white skin on full display under a thin tank top and a pair of lavender underwear. Her hair is long and golden, soft looking. She’s shorter than I am by more than a foot, her neck craning to look up at me as she moves in close. Almost as close as Freedom did. She’s a new girl for the Hive. A high earner with a few special talents you have to see to believe, if you listen to the rumors.
Eyes are on me again, men muttering to each other, probably wondering what I’ve done to lure two Hive girls to me in as many minutes.
“Are you alone, baby?” the girl asks consolingly, like I’m a lost child she found in the mall.
“For the moment.”
“Do you want to be?”
“I’m not buying tonight.”
She smiles. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to waste your time. I know it’s valuable.”
“Well, aren’t you considerate? What’s your name?”
“Trent. Hyperion.”
“Hyperion,” she purrs happily. “You boys don’t buy much, do you? You don’t own either.”
“No.”
“I don’t know if that’s sweet or stupid. A girl could make a lot of money for you boys, if you gave her the right home.”
“You just got here. Are you unhappy already?”
She grins, shrugging slightly. Jostling her hair over her shoulder until I can see her breasts through her shirt. “Anywhere is better than the Colony.”
That’s another rumor; that she ran away from the Safeco Colony. No one knows why or how or if it’s even true. The Hive is keeping quiet about her origin story, but if there’s any truth to it, she’s valuable in a lot of ways that don’t involve her body. I’d pay for her time just to pick her brain if I trusted her or the stories swirling around her.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
She steps in closer, laying a hand on my chest. “Elise.”
“Why’d you leave the Colonies, Elise?”
“Why is that the first thing everyone asks me?”
“Because it’s the most interesting thing about you.”
She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Oh, baby, that’s just not true. I could show you how wrong you are, if you wanted me to.”
“I don’t. But thank you.”
“Another time then.”
“Probably not.”
She smiles again, her teeth surprisingly white. Colony clean. “We’ll see about that. Have a good night, Trent.”
“Goodbye, Elise.”
She drifts slowly through the crowd, being swallowed up the same way Bray was. I watch her ass as she leaves because, no, I’m not buying tonight, but I’m still a man.
It’s small, like her. A little flat. Way more interesting than a guy’s, though.
Before she disappears completely, she runs into Ryan. I watch them talk for a minute, her body language with him almost identical to her interaction with me. Head tilted back. Palm on his chest. Smiling lips and half-lidded eyes. He grins down at her with his award-winning smile, but he puts his hands in his pockets. He rocks back on his heels to gain the slightest distance from her. He shakes his head. She pouts theatrically. He chuckles, placing a hand on her elbow as he leans in to kiss her quickly on the cheek
. She smiles after him as he walks away.
And she watches his ass.
“I’m all signed in!” Ryan tells me proudly, his voice louder than it needs to be. I feel like he’s yelling in my face. It makes me worry about his nerves. “First fight.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe less.”
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
He grins crookedly, his cheeks quivering with anxiety. “Why’d you ask if you knew?”
“Because I wanted to see if you’d lie to me.”
“I should have known better. Sorry.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t lie to yourself. If you’re afraid, own it. Otherwise it will take you by surprise in there and you can’t afford to miss a step like that.”
“It does matter.”
“What does?”
“Lying to you,” he replies earnestly. His eyes are contrite. “I shouldn’t do that. You’re my brother, Trent, and I… I’m glad you’re here. I really am. Thanks. You know, for coming with me. And for not trying to talk me out of it. I know you’re doing the best you can to help me and if things go wrong tonight, I don’t want you to feel like it’s your fault, okay?”
Now’s a good time to tell him the same. I should tell him he’s my brother as well. That I love him like family. That I’m here because I would do anything for him and for Kevin. I should tell him how much I miss Kevin too and that he doesn’t have to do this fight. We could go home right now and talk about it. Really talk about it, about Kevin’s death, and maybe then we’d be okay. Maybe then it won’t feel like we’re both missing a massive piece of ourselves, hobbling along without a leg and acting like it’s fine; like it’s still there even though we can’t see it or feel it. Even though we ache inside with missing it.
But I’m not that man, and I probably never will be, so I tell him simply, “Okay.”
Ryan smiles. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile as well, feeling relieved. He doesn’t expect more from me. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to say it again.”
“I wish to God you wouldn’t. We’ve slipped into a loop.”
“You talked about feelings. I had to tailspin to get out.”
“It was a good move.”
“Feel free to steal it. Women love it.”
“I thought women loved talking about feelings.”
“No. They hate it. They hate communication in general. But most of all, they don’t like listening. Never listen. And talk to them about other women. It’s their favorite.”
“This is all really good information.”
“I’m not good at a lot of things, Ryan,” I clap him on the shoulder, grinning loosely, “but I’m amazing with women.”
He chuckles shakily, his nerves still fried. His muscles are tight as stone under my hand. “And people talk about what an honest guy you are.”
“They don’t know me like you do.”
“No, they don’t.” He searches the faces in the room, taking note of every one the way I’ve tried to teach him. “Have you seen Freedom?”
“Oh yes. She came over to yell at me.”
“For letting me in the ring?”
“Apparently this is all my fault.”
Ryan winces. “Sorry, Trent. I should have told her myself that I was doing this.”
“She doesn’t want you to die like your brother did. She’s scared. If you told her to her face that you were doing this, she’d tie you up in the Hive basement for the rest of your life to keep you away from it.”
He shakes his head irritably. “It’s not up to her. It’s not up to anyone but me.”
“It’s because she loves you. You can’t get mad at people for loving you or being afraid for you.”
“I’m not Kevin,” he argues.
“No, but you’re the last piece of him left in this world.” I look at him heavily. “That makes you more than you are to some of us.”
Ryan blinks, reading between my lines that are drawn too broad for my liking. “I can’t be him.”
“No one is asking you to be. We’re just asking you to continue to be.”
“She loved him, didn’t she?” he asks abruptly. He licks his lips that are cracked and almost bleeding. “Like, for real loved him. Kevin.”
“I don’t know what love looks like, but if I had to guess, I’d say that was it.”
“He loved her,” he tells me resolutely, like really believes it. Like he needs to believe it. “He never told me, but I knew it. I knew it the way he smiled at her.”
“You’re probably right.”
A door bangs open violently to my left. Instinctively, I push Ryan behind me with one hand as I draw my blade with the other.
This is it, I think coolly. One of their Risen is loose.
But, for once, I’m wrong. Running out of the back hallway, her hands covered in blood, is one of the Stable girls. Stormy, I think. Her face is stricken as her eyes wildly search the crowded room of men staring at her. She visibly relaxes when she spots Vin.
“You have to come help,” she pleads shakily.
Vin is up from his table, already crossing the room. The crowd parts for him without question. “What the hell happened?”
“It’s Breanne. The baby. It’s coming.”
“Is that her blood?”
“Yes.”
He curses under his breath, taking her elbow firmly in hand. “Get back in there and help her or wash your hands, but get out of sight. You can’t wave that mess around in the Arena. People will think it’s bad luck or some shit.”
“But Breanne—”
“I’ll get the doc. I’ll be back there with him as soon as I can. Now go!”
He practically pushes her through the door but once he let’s go, I see her running. Even as the door swings shut, I can hear her feet racing down the hall.
Vin turns to face the room, his expression severe. “Sorry, guys, but we’re gonna have to cancel tonight’s event.”
“No,” Ryan whispers painfully.
I frown at him, surprised by the severity of his reaction.
Groans fill the room. Boos erupt that bring a sharpness to Vin’s eyes the likes of which most men can only dream. It’s enough to cut through the noise, reducing it to a low murmur of disgust.
“We can’t risk it,” he explains. “With that much blood in the air and more to come, the Risen are more unpredictable than usual. They’ll be freaking out in their cells the second they catch a whiff of it. Getting them into the ring without getting killed would be a show all on it’s own.”
“What about our bets?” someone demands. “We’ve already put money down.”
“And Hector has it all logged. Next fight, he’ll give you a credit. You’ll be taken care of.”
Ryan takes a step forward. “What about the men checked in to fight tonight?”
Vin pauses, giving Ryan a long, appraising look. He knows who he is. Who his brother was. “You’ll have to take that up with Chapman. I don’t run the Underground anymore.”
Vin goes through the same door Stormy did. His footsteps aren’t nearly as hurried, but they’re certain. They have purpose, and I envy the novelty of his situation. He’s going to do the strangest of things in this world of endless endings.
He’s about to witness a beginning.
CHAPTER NINE
Vin
It takes six hours. There’s a lot of screaming, a lot of blood, and finally there’s a baby boy. It’s amazing how much life resembles death. Only time I ever heard a woman scream like that, she was being eaten by a pack of Risen. And when I step into that room to see the baby, there’s about as much blood.
Breanne is dazed. She’s sweating and smiling, cuddling a small bundle of blankets to her chest and talking to it like they’re best friends. I can see a wet mass of hair sticking up. It’s blond, like his mom. Sh
e looks happy staring down at him, and the craziest fuckin’ thing about it is that I feel happy looking at them. Breanne isn’t one of my favorites. She’s young and dumb, childish in ways that make me want to cut her lose just to avoid the hassle, but she looks like someone new holding her baby the way she is. She looks older and wiser, like if things were different, she could be different. She could be a mother.
“Vin,” Natalie whispers next to me. “How long are you going to let her hold him?”
I scowl at her. “She just went through hell to have him. She can hold him for as long as she wants.”
“Forever? She can keep him forever?”
“What is your problem?” I demand, my shoulders rising. “First Freedom is on my ass about taking the baby away, now you’re giving me shit for letting her hold him?”
She takes hold of my arm to pull me into the hall. She whispers fiercely, “My problem is that the longer she’s with him the more attached she’s going to be. Did you know she picked out a name for him?”
“So what? Let her name her kid.”
“There’s no way they’ll use a name she gives him at the Colony.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No, the point is to make this as painless for her as possible.”
“And you think yanking that kid from her arms right now is going to be painless?”
“No, but it’ll be better. Better than falling completely in love with him, planning a life with him, feeling like a mother, and having that taken away.”
She’s right. I didn’t think this through because this isn’t my job. At least, it shouldn’t be. In what fucked up world am I in charge of women and their feelings and their safety? This is the last place I should be but there’s nowhere else for me to go. There’s nothing left for me to do but handle it.
I curse, lacing my fingers behind my head. I glare at the floor like this is all its fault. “I hate my life.”
“Don’t we all?”
“I don’t know anything,” I promise her seriously. “I don’t know how this feels for any of you. All I can do is give you the choices you’ve got and try to help you through them. That’s my job.”
She softens into my honesty. “You’re more than your job to us.”
