I floated forward.
"Welcome to the dog fights, Artemis," the Fire said, smiling as I moved past him.
The sea of people parted, revealing a tight, crooked path to a ring of overturned filing cabinets. I rubbed shoulders with people as I passed. Some leaned away, but all kept shouting. No matter how hard I squinted, none of their faces would come into focus.
Up and over the filing cabinets, and into the ring I went. The man in the ring with me bounced around on the opposite side, just as faceless as the rest. I tried to remember what Erika had told me about him.
I wonder if Erika is here now. I looked around at the screaming audience. I wonder where Clay is.
My questions barely had time to form in my head, when I heard a muffled dong of a bell. My eyes floated back to the other person in the ring, now walking toward me.
Has it begun?
I saw a flash of a fist, dull and huge, in front of me, then my nose exploded with pain.
When I opened my eyes, the arena was sideways. Someone was counting down.
"9…8…7…"
What happened to 10, I thought. Did I get knocked out, already?
"6…5…"
I sucked in the slobber protruding from my mouth, and tasted blood and dust. I propped myself up on one elbow. Anger lit through my body, overtaking even the pain in my throbbing face. Micah had given me everything he had, and now he was in the hands of multiple other women, trying to save him. And here I was, a few seconds into it, on the floor and losing.
"4…3…"
My ears honed into the sound of liquid drops hitting the floor. My blood.
"2…"
I hopped to my feet, removing my t-shirt, already covered in red. I wiped my face with it and tossed it aside. The crowd piped up; the shouts a mixture of encouragement and jeers. I could follow the sound of each shout back to its owner.
My eyes lifted to my opponent, taking him in with new clarity. His eyebrows lifted, and he was trying to hide a smile. He was relieved I’d recovered, not disappointed.
Age 28, a Fire who calls himself Dragon, and a logger before Daybreak, a memory of Erika’s voice reached me. He was bigger than Micah, and thick with muscle. Maybe slower on his feet than me. He's cocky, doesn't work much around camp anymore. Still riding his status as belt holder – no one challenges him, not even when he skips sentry duty. His hands were not the hands of a worker. No cuts, and smooth, even skin. Dragon had become lazy with his new status. His hands did, however, have a spray of my blood across the knuckles. Prides himself on physical fighting, he won't resort to his element until he starts losing.
Dragon waited for me across the ring. He wasn't going to make the next move. It had to be me. I walked toward him. He met me in the middle. I lifted my hand, slowly, hoping he didn't mistake it for a punch. Then I extended it toward him, palm to the side. It stayed there, hovering in midair.
He glanced at it, then over at a man in a black shirt standing just outside the ring.
I rolled my eyes. "You forgot to shake, first."
"Um, that's not in the rules."
I sniffed, and tears stung my eyes from the pain. "Come on – it's just good manners."
A few snickers from those close enough to hear our conversation. Dragon glanced at the man in black again, then shrugged, and extended his own hand.
I lunged for the ground, the momentum carrying one foot back then up above my head. The sole of my boot connected with his nose. Before I was all the way up, I closed my fist, swinging it into his side. He was softer than I expected.
He doubled over, clutching at his midsection. Gravity still had my same leg in motion. I swung it up in front of me this time, my knee hitting its target – the nose again.
Dragon flew back, stumbling over his own feet. He crashed hard on top of a filing cabinet. The crowd roared; the sound echoing across the small enclosed room. It was almost deafening.
I turned, taking the opportunity to reach out and establish which Elementals were in the room. At least fifty Fires, and just a handful of each of the others.
"That’s cheating!" Dragon yelled, lifting himself up then marching to the man in black. The ref, maybe? "Call the fight – she cheated!"
I stepped closer to the pair, staring down Dragon. "Sorry," I shrugged. "Shaking isn't in the rules."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ref's mouth twitch.
"No call. Continue the fight."
Dragon wiped his nose, now also trickling blood. He turned toward me, face red, fists closed, and sweat beading down his temples.
There were no words. Just one step toward me, then a flurry of fists. I ducked under the first bout, spinning in a crouch. My elbow hit the same soft spot at his side. I felt his breath against the back of my neck, leaving in one, large, involuntary gust.
I spun back out and stepped away before he had the chance to grab ahold of me. If I let him do that, it would be over.
Dragon clutched his side, trying to get his breath back.
I could match him blow for blow, but my punches weren't nearly as powerful. There'd have to be more – and well-placed. If I could just keep at it, I could probably outlast him. I'd just have to take care not to get knocked unconscious.
Stamina, I told myself. It will be a long fight. You should probably stretch.
I bent down to touch my toes, then reached up high.
Again, snickers behind me.
I bent one leg, with the other just in front of me, extending my calves. No matter what the crowd thought, it wasn't a taunt, I was just being practical. Still, Dragon wasn't taking it the right way. He glared at me through lowered lids. A growl escaped his lips, then he charged.
He covered the distance quickly. I had just enough time to step forward – I feigned right, then spun out to the left allowing him to pass me. His hand shot out, just reaching the ends of my hair. My head jolted back before his fingers slipped through. Had my hair been any longer, I'd have been in trouble.
I turned. He was off-balance. I jumped, landing one foot in the middle of his back. He went down to his knees. Again, I stepped away, narrowly avoiding a swipe of his hand.
My heart raced; there had already been too many close calls. I had to be quicker.
He was on his feet again. He wiped his nose – the bleeding had already stopped. Had mine? I didn't want to check. Instead, I walked to the filing cabinet that still held Dragon's imprint.
I sat down, wiggling my backside. I looked up at Dragon as he walked toward me.
"My ass!" I shouted, forcing surprise in my tone.
He paused, mid-step.
"It's just so…comfortable." I didn't know if he could hear me. The people behind me sure could.
The smile on my own face was fake. Inside, I knew I needed to bring the fight to a whole new level. We needed to start using magic.
Chapter 56
Playing with Fire
Dragon moved to the middle of the ring, crossed his arms, and stared me down. I hopped up, keeping my senses open to the beginning weaves of flame.
Is this it? Is he mad enough?
I prepared myself, recalling Clay's intel on the earth below us. We’re on top of the Denver basin – a layer of sedimentary rock runs all the way to the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains. Much of the basin is large, flat and reddish slabs of rock, the kind prevalent in the Red Rocks Park and Amphitheatre fifteen miles west of us. The basin runs deep, though. Before you reach it, there is sandstone and shale.
Only rock, at my disposal. Rock, and nothing else.
Dragon put one foot back and his hands in fists, near his face – ready to parry a blow. My shoulders sagged. This wasn't it – he still needed some convincing.
So be it.
I lunged, hopping wide and to his left, then to his right. I could see his muscles tense as he tried to anticipate my next move, so I cartwheeled. Arms by my ears, legs wide, I completed a star pattern. Hand, hand, foot, foot. My elementary school gym teacher would be proud.<
br />
As soon as my second foot hit the ground, I ducked and sent a right hook into his soft spot. He winced, grabbing at it and turning away. I circled around, meeting him halfway with a spinning back roundhouse kick. At least that's what Alex had told me it was. My heel connected with the same spot.
He stumbled away from me. "Damn it – stop hitting me there!"
I walked casually to the right, toward the ref. "Why, Dragon? Is that a rule too?"
I looked to the ref for clarification. He just shrugged.
Next I tried a somersault, not nearly as pretty as my cartwheel. I didn't expect the ground to be so hard. I managed to kick up as soon as I unfolded, but Dragon twisted, and it wasn't a direct blow. He stomped down. I rolled to the side. Another close call.
On the ground, facing away from him, there was no time to get up. His boot came down, hard and fast – aiming for my temple. I kicked back, and caught him behind his knee. With one leg in the air, he lost balance. I hopped up as he fell. With our situation reversed, I took the opportunity to kick him hard – in the side.
A long string of curse words came out of his mouth.
I stepped back, hoping that would do the trick. I let him pick himself up while I brushed dirt from my clothes. Should've worn a leotard.
Hung up on appearance, I barely had time to dodge the fireball. Its heat licked at my bicep as it passed. It flew into the audience, exploding across the chest of someone who didn't move quickly enough. The man started screaming, alternately hitting himself in the chest and rolling on the floor. Neither put the flame out.
I felt Dragon drawing some of the flame from the shirt, weave it into another ball, and wing it at me. Now that I was on edge, it was easy enough to dodge. While I rode my energy high, the rest of the world moved in slow motion.
Before Dragon could react, I moved in, taking a shot at his nose and then again at his side. When he recovered, I held up his lighter for him to see. "Seriously, dude? Is this the extent of your fire?"
His neck went red, and his face actually shook. His mouth contorted in rage. He drew another fireball. I didn't even have to move for it to miss me. Anger threw off his aim.
The man rolling around on the floor continued screaming.
"For crying out loud," I picked up my shirt, discarded earlier in the fight, and threw it at his buddy. Within seconds they had the fire out.
Could no one else do that? Though, I suppose my shirt was already ruined.
I turned to Dragon and crossed my arms. "Your flame is weak, Dragon. A little too damp for you, down here in the catacombs?"
He put two fingers in his mouth. A loud, shrill whistle cut through the chatter, bringing the catacombs to a dead silence. A smile lit his face.
What is he up to?
After a few moments of nothing happening, he turned to the audience – staring them down. A few flinched, digging in their pockets for something. Another step toward them by Dragon, and they hurried to roll their thumb across a small gear, then hold the object up. Tiny flames danced atop each of the lighters. The fire spread across the room, most everyone holding up a lighter.
My mouth dropped open. I looked at the ref. Behind me, Dragon must have been spewing some unspoken threat, because the ref took out a lighter, too.
"You have got to be kidding me," I said out loud. The ref kept his gaze on the filing cabinet in front of him.
Further behind him, I felt someone reach for air. My eyes snapped to him. He didn't have a lighter. He sent his element out, starting to distinguish each of the flames near him first. I glared – I couldn't risk the match being called. The ref was obviously corrupt.
The Air continued, flipping his around like he was using an invisible lasso. It came to an abrupt stop when Clay grabbed him at the wrist, pulling the hand down. Lighters were relit without anyone thinking twice.
My eyes went back to the ref. His flame bent inward – directly toward me. My eyes followed the circle of people around me. Individually, the tiny flickering flames didn't seem so bad. But there were dozens of them, each reaching toward me – an ominous threat. Chills raked up and down my spine.
Out of the corner of my eye, Dragon swung his arm wide. Fire responded, growing longer and longer out of the lighters. The flames circled, joining together in a swirling mass above the ring. I felt the entire atmosphere pulsate out. When it paused at its peak, I dove for a filing cabinet. With my back to the floor, I pulled the cabinet on top of me, balancing it on my feet and hands. Intense heat hit the other side of the cabinet, while flame rained down around me.
I had no idea how Dragon was shielded from his own element, but I could hear his laughter over the crackling rush. It kept coming; I supposed there wouldn't be an end until the lighters ran out of fluid – or until all the air was sucked out of the room. I couldn't use water or air to help me here. Heat crept into my unwrapped palm – I looked at the filing cabinet I held above me. The entire thing was turning red. I didn't have much longer before my skin would start sizzling away.
I bounced it up slightly, testing the weight and repositioning my hands. I looked toward Dragon. He walked toward me. Good. He was walking slowly. Bad.
He needed to be closer. A few more steps, and my hands started to burn with pain.
Palms heal fast, I told myself. Hang in there. I would only have one chance at this.
"Now you know the extent of my fire." Dragon was still laughing. "Look at you cowering under there, like an earthworm."
My arms shook. I tried holding the weight with the edge of my hands. I blew air against my exposed palm, cooling it off. The bandaged hand would last a little longer. A few thin pieces of material made all the difference.
Dragon paused a few feet away. Still too far, just by a bit.
"By the time I'm done with you, you'll look like an earthworm that was left to shrivel up in the sun."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I get it. I'm a worm. Come here!"
"Was that the worm talking?" He leaned in closer, cocking his head and putting his hand to his ear.
That'll do.
I bent my limbs, then pushed all four of them up and out. As soon as my makeshift shield left me, I cowered – covering my head against the falling flame. I didn't see the filing cabinet hit him, but I heard it. The fire stopped all at once, and I peeked out. Dragon stumbled back, eyes dazed.
"Your hair!" someone squeaked behind me.
I rolled automatically. Even the once cool, concrete floor was too hot. I stood, checking my hair. Singed at the back. My shoulders were hot, but not enough to blister. The newly healed tattoos stung just a bit more; same with Shawn's mark.
I waited for Dragon to gain his balance, and to stop seeing stars. When his eyes finally focused back on me, I smiled. "My turn."
I sent energy straight into the Earth below us. I kept a tight rein on it, forcing it to circle. The entire room shook in response. The crowd gasped; a few near the doors bailed. Dragon was tight-lipped.
The filing cabinets bumped up. One after another, following the circle around. Just tiny hops, pushed up by the ground underneath. One near Dragon had enough momentum to fall over. Still hot from his fire, it singed his calf. He jumped away, then looked at me, wide-eyed.
I shrugged. "You play with fire and…well, you know the rest."
He turned to the crowd. "Light them!"
No one responded. Instead, they all looked at each other, shifting on their feet, scratching their necks.
"Light them, or I will strangle each and every one of you!" Dragon shouted. He kept a wary eye on me.
I put my hands in the air, signaling for him to proceed. My eyes scanned the room, locating the majority of the sand bags. This was going to be tricky, especially not being able to use air.
A series of barely distinguishable flicks, and the tiny, annoying flames were back. I sent out earth magic, but not into the ground. This time it was electric signals.
I sent it spinning around the room. The pressure increased, creating a weak, geo
magnetic field. One by one, granules of sand were loosed from their bags. At first, you couldn't see them. But eventually, like static on a TV screen, they gravitated toward each other, blurring our vision. I watched as people covered the orifices of their faces with their hands. They didn't seem to notice belt buckles and watches pulling ever so slightly toward the center of the room.
I pulled apart my weaves, and sent out an oscillating tempo. The sand followed, and soon created thick enough strips to distinguish flames.
"Light them again," Dragon ordered, covering his own mouth.
"That sand – gets everywhere, doesn't it?" I moved one weave in, dousing him in the back of the head.
He tried pulling flame from the few lighters that were still lit. Sand moved in, extinguishing them.
Dragon growled, marched toward someone who still held a lighter, and took it from her. Right behind, I placed another kick into his side. The lighter flew up in the air.
I caught it, then turned to address the audience. "Light them again, and I will start shoving the sand down your throats!" It seemed convincing, even if I couldn't really do that, unless they each had a high dose of iron for breakfast that morning. I stared down the onlookers. The sound of several dozen lighters hitting the floor echoed across the room.
I turned back to my opponent. "How's the side, Dragon?"
He backed away, hands moving to protect his midsection. He bumped into one of the filing cabinets, falling back on it. As soon as his butt touched, he hopped back up. He craned his neck over his shoulder, brushing at his pants and checking for burns.
I laughed out loud. He definitely wasn't having fun anymore. I turned to the ref. "How does this end?" I noticed his lighter also lay uselessly on the floor by his foot.
He followed my gaze, then kicked the lighter away and cleared his throat. "Your opponent has to be unable to continue. He can't just give up – there are no tapouts."
I turned to Dragon, one side of my mouth tipped up in a smile. "Oh, good."
Dragon's eyes went double-wide. He took two steps back, then stumbled for the door. The crowd parted, but before he got there, two more shirts in black stepped in front of the exit. They held up their palms, each with a ball of fire levitating above. They threw their element down in front of them, creating a wall of fire.
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