by Erin O'Kane
When I’m standing in line for my breakfast, the others brush their hands against me as they walk past. Anyone that was watching would be forgiving, thinking it was accidental, but I can tell from the look in their eyes that they did it on purpose. When Alcide approaches me, he stumbles, surprising me and nearly knocking me over. Alcide isn’t a clumsy person. My gaze locks on him as he is hauled up by a guard, and I catch his quiet words before he’s shoved down the line.
“Stay close to Nixon. Trust no one.”
Nixon helps steady me, baring his teeth at anyone that comes too close to us, his hand staying protectively on my shoulder as we continue to queue. Eventually, we get our breakfast and take a seat at one of the tables. Jessie sits at the opposite end, flashing me a small smile as we sit, before turning his attention back to his bowl. My stomach sours when I spot his swollen eye and various bruises. We’ll get through this. We’ll be okay.
Our breakfast consists of a bowl of lukewarm gruel, but none of us complain, not knowing when our next meal will be. They lock us in cells and call us slaves, so I doubt they are going to feed us regularly.
As we eat, I try to look around surreptitiously. There seems to be around twenty-five of us. All of my guys are here, spread out around the room, but I can feel their eyes on me. Unfortunately, theirs are not the only ones.
Several slaves are eyeing me up, some bloodthirsty, analysing me as if I’ll be their next opponent, while others obviously have more lascivious activities on their mind. I will need to keep my eye on them.
Fighting a shudder, I continue to peruse the room, and my eyes land on the guy I stumbled into the yesterday. Xavier, I think his name was. He’s sitting as far away from everyone as he can, keeping his head down as he eats his food. I don’t know why my gaze keeps being drawn to him. He’s handsome, in a scarred, don’t mess with me kinda way, but it’s not that that catches my eye. I think it’s the air of acceptance and desolation that comes from him.
“I’d avoid that one if you can.” A deep voice snaps me from my musings, and I quickly look up, realising it’s the older man who had nodded to me yesterday when we arrived. “He’s never looked out for anyone here, only himself. You will need allies if you’re going to survive this,” he finishes quietly, his two companions nodding their head in agreement. I raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side.
“Is that what you are, an ally?”
He lets out a short laugh of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting my response. “We shall see. I’m Jacob,” he replies, before he backs away as the guards start moving towards him, their weapons pointed at his chest.
“No talking!” one of them barks, jabbing his spear towards Jacob’s chest.
The commotion captured the attention of the room, everyone’s stares falling on me. I return their gazes with a glare, wishing I felt as confident as my actions as I scan the room, my eyes catching once again on Xavier. His eyes bore into mine, and an expression of interest flashes across his face for a second before it disappears back to the blank mask it was before.
The rest of breakfast passes uneventfully until seemingly as one, the slaves stand and start shuffling towards the large set of doors I’d seen Xavier stumble through yesterday. Nixon and I join the queue, trepidation filling me as we wait. What’s waiting for us on the other side of those doors?
“What’s happening?” I whisper quietly to the guy in front of me.
He turns suddenly, like I’ve bitten him, his eyes wide until he sees me behind him. Raising an eyebrow sharply, he responds, “It’s training, they’ll want to see what you can do. This always happens when we get new slaves.” He turns away, and I doubt he’ll answer me again if I was to ask another question.
I stay silent after that, and soon we’re shepherded through the doorway. It’s dark in here, but there are a set of stairs leading up to a bright light ahead. Closing my eyes against the light, I wince as I’m shoved from behind. I stumble forward, prying my eyes open, as I look around us. My jaw drops. There are cages lining the large, circular space, filled with more slaves. Above us in tiers are what seem to be seats. Rows and rows of them all face down into the sandy pit, which we are being shoved towards. The space in the center is lower than we are, and it is surrounded by a wall with large gates providing the only way in and out.
“We are in a fucking amphitheatre.” Alcide’s voice causes me to jump, and I turn, seeing all my guys standing around me. My heart fills with joy that we are all together again, but seeing the expressions on their faces makes me nervous.
“What’s an amphitheatre?” I ask, eyeing the other slaves wearily, most of whom are watching with expectant looks on their faces, like they are waiting for something to happen.
“It’s a place where they used to make people fight pre-war, usually to the death, while people bet on who would win,” Rex explains quietly, but stops as a guard marches up to us. I can tell he is in charge by the way others react to him, bowing their heads in respect as he walks past, as well as the way he carries himself with confidence.
“Slaves, listen up, because I will only say it once. You will be put in the ring and you will train. You will not hold back on your powers, if you do, it could lead to your death. Following today’s training, you will be ranked for future fights. Once you have warmed up, the others will be sent in to join you. There will be no fighting unless you are directed to by myself or one of the Masters. Once you step foot in the ring, your powers will be returned to you. Don’t die. If you fight well, you will be rewarded,” the guard concludes, before gesturing towards the staircase. When we hesitate, his face hardens. “You would find it in your best interest to follow my orders. I can make this unpleasant for you, but I would rather avoid that.”
We all look to Alcide who is watching the guard with narrowed eyes. When he subtly nods, we start to walk towards the staircase that leads down to the fighting pit. One by one the metal bands that mute our powers are removed, just before we step into the fighting ring.
I immediately feel my powers return, and I hold out my hands to examine them. I’ve never felt my powers like this before, they’ve always just been there, ready to protect me when I need them. It wasn’t until they were taken away that I realised how lost I felt without them. Looking around, I see the guys are doing something similar, except Jesse, who’s standing next to one of the walls, peering at it with a quizzical look on his face. Raising both palms, he presses them against the wall before quickly pulling them away with a grimace.
“Whatever they use in the metal bands is in the walls too, we won’t be able to escape using our powers.” He keeps his voice low, but I can read the fear in his eyes loud and clear.
The atmosphere in the arena is overwhelming and oppressive. Our every move is watched. From here, I can just about see the area we have just been lead from, the cells just visible, but I realise that those sitting in the seating above wouldn’t see them, the area is completely hidden from their view. Looking around the empty arena, I wonder what will happen next. What are we waiting for? Anticipation rises within me, and as I examine my family around me, I see the same in them. I wonder if the guards have made us wait on purpose?
“Should we be warming up or something?” I ask Alcide quietly, the uncertainty of our situation making my anxiety climb to new levels.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to play their games.” Indecision underlines his words and that worries me more than anything else, more than them locking us up and taking away our powers. Alcide is our leader, he always knows what to do, and we look to him for guidance. The fact he doesn’t know scares me.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’m starting to feel woozy under the heat of the midday sun. Based on the others’ drooping postures, it’s affecting them too. A banging catches my attention and we all shuffle closer together as the gates open. Nixon pulls me close as more slaves pile in.
A flash of colour draws my attention to the rows of seats above us. A covered area takes up about
a quarter of the space, it is difficult to see from down here, but it looks different than the other seats, more spacious. Squinting, trying to focus, I finally realise what the flash of colour is. Two of the Masters have come to watch us, and a couple of other people I don’t recognise are with them. I don’t think they are Masters, they don’t hold themselves in the same way.
Someone clearing their throat brings us all to attention. The same guard from before, the one who is in charge, is standing up by the cages, frowning down at us.
“Today you will be paired up and your abilities tested further against an opponent. Do not kill or seriously hurt the slave you are partnered with, today is not about fighting.” There is a pause before he continues. “You will get plenty of opportunities to hurt one another.”
Glancing around, I see five slaves gather together, eyeing us up like we’re their next meal. I fight the shudder when their eyes heat up as they land on me, and my guys surround me, protecting me from their sick gazes.
I guess it’s inevitable to have so much attention on me, I am the only female freak after all. Straightening my back, I stand tall and meet the stares of the other slaves in the arena. The older man who had nodded at me the other day stands to the side with two huge guys, stretching, obviously used to whatever is about to happen. His eyes are on me again, and when I meet his gaze, he smiles slightly, dipping his head in what looks like a show of respect. Perhaps we might have an ally in him?
Most of the other slaves are standing apart from everyone else, eyeing us with distrust. I spin around as a crawling feeling runs down my spine. Standing behind me is...Xavier. He’s huge, even more so now that he is so close to me, and I have to arch my neck to look up at him. His skin is covered in old, silver scars, but I can’t see any fresh wounds on him like I was expecting. I saw the deep wound on his leg yesterday in the showers, but now there’s nothing there. How?
Shaking my head, I look up and freeze when I see his face. It’s completely unmarked, unlike the rest of his body. He would probably be considered handsome if it wasn’t for the scowl he was aiming at me. Keeping completely still, I wait for him to make the first move, feeling like a mouse being stalked by a lion. Disgust flickers across his features when he registers my fear, before he turns and stalks away.
The rest of the day seems to go by in a blur of heat, sweat, and fighting. My body is shaking as my sore muscles try to keep up against the onslaught of punches that are aimed at me. Ducking another swing aimed at my head, I jump back and end up pressed against someone’s chest. A deep grumbling lets me know it’s Nixon, as well as the wide-eyed guy in front of me who holds his hands up in surrender and takes a few steps back. Turning to Nixon, I look up and see his eyes filled with murder, locked on the retreating slave.
“Nix. Look at me,” I call to him, waiting until his gaze moves to mine. I nearly wince at the violence I see there, but I know Nixon would never hurt me. “I’m fine, we were training, I’m okay,” I say in a cajoling tone, repeating it until the anger fades, and the Nixon I know and love returns. Fighting the urge to wrap my arms around him, I settle with putting my hand on his arm, aware that our every move is being watched.
After everyone’s had a chance to warm up, we’re split into groups and ordered to spar against each other. Everyone I have sparred with today has taken it easy on me, not really trying to hurt me. No one really seems to want to hurt each other. Well, that’s not true. The group of five guys that have been watching me since I arrived exude violence, and all of their opponents have come away sporting bruises and wounds.
The guards have been keeping an eye on them, but other than a few barked commands to take it easy, they haven’t stepped in to stop the violent men. The leader of the group, O’Connor, truly scares me. I watched him train as he was paired up with some of the other slaves. His power seems to be pain, all he has to do is touch the person and they double over, crying out. The pain appears to continue long after he lets go of them, their bodies convulsing and facial expressions strained.
When I haven’t been fighting, I’ve watched the others, trying to work out what their powers are. The older slave, Jacob as I learned his name is, seems to have the gift of speed, his body moving so fast my eyes can’t keep up with him.
So far, I have managed to come away without having to use my powers. All of my sparring partners have barely touched me, purely going through the motions. However, I’m under no illusion that if we are paired up to fight for real that they would not hurt me to win, it’s human nature.
I still get a few lingering stares, but it seems the shock has worn off. Blain and Alcide only had to knock some sense into a couple of guys whose eyes lingered on me for a little too long. The guys all seem to be holding up okay, not having to use too much energy to show off their powers. All except Nixon. So far, he has refused to fight, just following me around like a silent bodyguard, growling at everyone that comes near us, including guards.
“Last pairing of the day,” a guard announces. “Girl, you’re up with O’Connor.”
Whispers and shouts fill the arena. The guys surround me as I stand frozen, my stomach churning with fear. I have seen the look in O’Connor’s eyes as he trains, he enjoys causing pain. Alcide is shouting at the guards, ordering them to change who I fight, but they’re just watching from above with smirks on their faces as if this was exactly what they wanted. They think I’m weak, a pitiful woman that can’t protect herself. It’s time to show them what this woman can do.
“It’s okay,” I proclaim, as I start to walk forward, only to come to as stop as Blain stands in front of me, crossing his arms across his muscled chest.
“Harpy, if you think I am letting you get anywhere near that sadistic maniac, then you are fucking crazy.”
“You don’t get a choice, neither do I. This could go two ways. You stop me and I’m dragged into the ring looking like a scared little girl, or I walk in there with my head held high and I show them what happens when you mess with the freaks.” Something changes in his eyes as I speak, and I know he understands. Clenching his jaw, he steps to the side without saying anything. I don’t thank him, I know if I do he’ll stop me from going again. I don’t look at the others. It’ll feel like too much of a goodbye if I do.
I step forward to the chalk drawn circle in the center of the arena, covered in sweat and dirt from a day of sparring under the scalding sun. O’Connor is watching me with the grin of a predator about to make a kill, pacing the circle like a caged animal, which is exactly what we are to these people.
I reach the border of the training ring and take a deep breath. The arena has gone silent, since everyone is focusing on the scene about to unfold in front of them. The hairs on my arms suddenly stand to attention and I follow my intuition. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Xavier watching me with the same intense expression from before. I shiver as I pull my gaze away, taking a step over the chalk line and entering the circle.
Facing O’Connor, I mirror his actions. When he stalks around the circle, I do the same. I need to keep as much distance between myself and him as I can. My powers are defensive, I have very little offensive ability, and if he touches me, I don’t know if my powers will adapt. They seem to affect the brain since the pain would stop once contact was broken, otherwise, I have not come across abilities like this before to know if I can overcome them.
“Ready, little girl?” he taunts, jumping towards me, reaching out his hand to grab me. At the last moment I leap to the side. He may think I’m just a little girl, but I’ve worked for the circus—I’m flexible and fast. He will have to work harder than that to catch me. I don’t bother replying to him, I need to focus on how I can fight against him without touching him.
This carries on for what feels like hours, but could only be minutes as I dodge O’Connor. He’s going to catch me sooner or later, and I’m getting tired. O’Connor gets closer, the narrowing of his eyes telling me he is fed up with my games. He jumps towards me, and I dart to the right, only
to find his hand gripped around my upper arm. My eyes widen in horror, but before I have time to register what will happen next, pain like I’ve never felt before runs through my body.
Collapsing to the ground, I convulse as lightning hot pain shoots along my nerve endings, and my body feels like it’s on fire. All sound disappears except for the loudness of my ragged breathing. Forcing open my eyes that I hadn’t realised I’d shut, I look up at a smug O’Connor who let go when I dropped to the ground. Trying to focus on my powers, I start to feel my skin shifting to protect me, constantly moving and changing, but nothing eases the pain that ravages my body. A scream tears from my lips, my body feeling like it’s on fire.
Fire.
Using all the energy I have left, I lurch forward, gripping onto O’Connor’s ankle. Ignoring his laugh as he tries to kick off my hand, I close my eyes, focusing on my power. I need to become fire. I know I’m successful when he shouts and starts scrabbling away from me, even more so when the pain stops coursing through my body. I take a deep breath of relief and push myself up to stand on shaky legs. Glancing down, I see that my whole body is glimmering like embers, the air around me sizzling as I take unsteady steps towards O’Connor. He looks nervous now and a smug feeling goes through me.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
“That’s enough. You have proved your point, girl,” a guard calls out, signalling the end of our fight.
Dropping my fire form, I feel the gravity of what just happened. My body shakes as I walk towards the guys who are waiting for me. Alcide and Jesse have smiles on their faces, while Nixon looks like he is about to go and pummel O’Connor into the ground.
“Nixon, it’s okay, I’m okay—” I begin, before a whistling sound has me turning at the last second.
“Rhea!”
“Stop him!”
The arena is full of shouts as O’Connor throws a dagger towards me. Hatred consumes his eyes as the blade flies towards me with deadly accuracy. No one is close enough to help me and time seems to slow as I watch it come towards me. Can my body stop something flying this fast? When I’m caught off guard and not prepared for it like I am with Blain? Before I can even try to shift, a shadow appears in front of me and I close my eyes, bracing for impact.
