Tempting Evil (15 page)

He made a sweeping motion with his hand, and part of the wall on the far side of the arena began to slide up. From it came two men and a woman. She was striking to look at—white-blond hair, golden skin, big breasts, and hourglass figure. The sort of woman who’d graced the centerfolds of men’s magazines year in and year out, almost since the birth of such things.

Though her hands were tied, her expression was defiant, like she was sure this was nothing more than a minor hiccup.

I was sure it wasn’t.

The tension that had begun to ebb revved into high gear again, and suddenly the food on my plate lost its taste. I forced what I already had in my mouth down, then pushed the rest away. I had no stomach left for food. No stomach for whatever it was that was coming.

“This fighter, Janti Harvey, was caught in an off-limits space. She was given the choice of being whipped for her mistake or facing the arena. She has chosen the arena.”

Bad mistake.
She had to be a shifter or were of some kind, so however bad the whipping was, for her it was a survivable punishment simply because shifting shape would heal the worst of the wounds. And okay, it wouldn’t be pleasant and would probably haunt her nights, but that would surely be better than facing the unknown in the arena.

But as my gaze went to her face, I saw the arrogance. The confidence. Maybe this woman had been so successful in the arena she figured she could beat whatever foe they presented her with.

Obviously, no one had ever shown her the zoo or the creatures held prisoner within it.

“Bring down the cage,” the announcer continued dramatically.

Both he and the woman looked up, so it was natural the rest of us would follow suit. From the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a huge cage began to lower. It was made of some kind of shiny metal and looked very much like the top half of a fancy birdcage. It lowered to the wall and clicked into place with barely a whisper, covering the entire arena in a huge mesh of metal. Which was how they kept the bird-shifters in.

“Release her ropes.”

The two guards did so, then quickly retreated. To anyone with an ounce of common sense, that would have been the first warning that things were going to get much worse. But the woman simply shook her hands and rolled her head.

I crossed my arms, somehow resisting the urge to stand up and tell her to run. Because caged as she was, where could she actually run?

“Release her opposition for the fight.” The words were barely out of his mouth and the announcer was beating a hasty retreat to the entrance he’d appeared from.

The woman began a series of warm-up exercises. Down the far end of the arena, doors slowly opened. Tension rolled through me, tightening already taut muscles to the point of pain.

I didn’t know what was worse—sitting here waiting to see what would come out of those doors, or knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop the woman below from meeting her fate.

A fate she seemed so oblivious to.

The doors opened fully, and out of the shadows of the tunnel beyond stepped two thin, blue humanoids with butterfly wings folded at their backs. A murmur of approval ran across the crowd but stopped at our table. Nerida and Berna looked every bit as disturbed by events as I was.

The blue things halted just past the door and lightly fanned their wings. The lights caught the colors in the delicate, veillike membranes, making them gleam like a thousand different jewels. But the beauty of the wings was offset by the wicked claws that replaced the top half of their fingers. And by the barbs that lined their cocks.

The woman stretched her arms, wriggled her fingers. If she was alarmed by the fact she was outnumbered or that these things were naked and nasty looking in the equipment department, it didn’t show. Confidence still held sway over her expression. But how long would it last once the blue things got moving?

One of them began to fan his wings harder and, with gentle grace, rose in the air. The other walked forward, his wings fanning slowly, barely even stirring the few pale wisps of hair that spotted his blue head.

She didn’t wait for them to come to her, and attacked the man on the ground with a ferocity that was surprising. The blue thing was momentarily beaten backward by the force and speed of her blows, and yet, at the same time, seemed unworried by them. The second creature rose high, then with a flick of his wings dove downward. The air screamed with the force of his plummet, and the woman threw herself out of his path. Claws raked the air, missing her skin but snagging strands of gold. They glittered brightly under the spotlights as the creature soared upward again. The woman hit the sand and rolled to her feet in one smooth movement, but barely had time to turn around before the grounded creature was on her. His blows were a blur, fast and hard, and for every ten punches she blocked, five got through. No were or shifter, no matter how tough, could stand such a beating for long.

As her confidence gave way to desperation and her breath became little more than sobs of fear, the blue thing on the ground stepped back. The woman dropped to her knees, alternatively sucking in great gulps of air and crying. I wanted to jump up, to scream that it wasn’t over, that those things hadn’t finished with her yet, but I forced myself to remain still and watch events. I couldn’t help her, and I couldn’t risk drawing unwanted attention, so I really had no other choice.

The circling creature began to drop. Anticipation rode the air, thick and sharp. I looked across at the other tables. Most were watching with avid fascination. Waiting for blood, wanting flesh to be rent and torn.

Bile rose, and it took every ounce of control I had not to throw up right there and then. At least the blue things were doing what they were bred to do—kill. The people watching had no such excuse. It made me hate them, made me want to throw them all into the arena and watch
them
scream and struggle against the blue things.

The stirring air must have warned the woman of the second creature’s approach, because she suddenly gasped and threw herself to one side. Wicked claws rent her back as she rolled, and blood began to flow freely down her sides. A collective cheer went up in the arena, and some even began urging the creatures on.

The only table that was totally quiet was ours. Nerida wasn’t even watching. Her eyes were closed and her whole body trembled—though I couldn’t smell fear, so it was probably anger.

As one creature soared away, the other came in. This time the woman had no chance, and no time, to avoid the blows. Soon she wasn’t even trying, just lying on the sand with her hands over her head, her whimpering lost to the whirring of wings, the thud of flesh against flesh and the cheers of the crowd.

After God knows how long, the other creature landed, and together the two of them dragged the bloodied woman over to the post. They pulled her upright and tied her chest-first against the wood.

And then, without ceremony, they butt-fucked her. She screamed, a sound so high and filled with agony that tears filled my eyes. I closed them, and covered my ears with my hands, but still her agony hit, battering my skin, my senses, reaching deep down to my soul, making me sicker than I ever thought possible.

They would pay for this. God help me, if it was the last thing I ever did, Starr, his lieutenants, and this whole perverted crowd would pay for what was being done here today. And the fact that I didn’t even know this woman was inconsequential. No person—whether they be human, were, shifter, or whatever else there was—deserved to be treated like
this
.

Especially considering her only crime was trespassing. If she’d attempted to murder Starr, then maybe the brutality would be more understandable—still not acceptable, but at least understandable.

But there was no understanding this. It was just another pointer to the sickness of the mind controlling the cartel.

Eventually the creatures were sated and the woman dragged away. The announcer walked back onto the sand and introduced the next piece of entertainment—the evening’s fight between two guards. I didn’t watch any of it, just kept my gaze on the table. If I looked up, caught Starr’s gaze, he’d see the need to kill, and that could be disastrous when the whole point of the scene with the woman was to bring fear, and cow those of us who were new.

After the fight, guards approached several tables, including ours. Berna raised an eyebrow as a guard motioned me to stand.

“Hang on. I thought if we were naked, we had freedom of choice.”

I snorted. “Unless the boss’s lieutenants decide they like the look of us. Apparently, it’s in the small print.”

“I read the small print. I can’t remember that.”

“Exactly what I said.” My gaze went to the blood-soaked sand near the pole. “But I guess they figure they can pretty much do what they want while we’re here.”

Her expression suggested disagreement, but her gaze flicked to the camera and she didn’t actually say anything. I followed the guard like the good little puppy I was pretending to be, but when he approached an elevator that wasn’t on any plan I’d seen, I began to take a lot more interest. He shoved a key in the lock, then punched a code into the accompanying keypad, but his fingers were far too quick for me to see—let alone memorize—the numbers. The elevator doors opened and I was waved inside.

Though there were six buttons, only three had numbers. He punched sub-three and the doors closed. I casually looked up at the ceiling, checking for cameras and other security devices—particularly psychic deadeners. There was a security cam, which meant there was probably voice monitoring as well, but I couldn’t see anything else. Not that that meant anything.

There was only one way to find out if I could do what I wanted to do. I lowered my shields a little, and felt for the guard’s thoughts. His hunger and arousal hit like a club, and my body reacted as instinctively as ever. But below his hunger were his thoughts, and the ease with which I reached them surprised me. I would have thought anyone who knew the codes to any of Starr’s private areas would have been either shielded or mind-blind.

Not that I was about to complain about the lack. I shuffled quickly but lightly through the guard’s mind, picking up not only the code for the elevator, but general information like shift times and the fact that most of the security pool either visited the whores or played snooker in the bunkhouse when not on duty. There was also some interesting impressions about the guy who was the head of security—he was a tall, balding man with pockmarked skin. According to
this
guard, he was also an all-talk, no-skills fuckwit who liked taking the credit for other people’s work. Which just might mean he was ripe for a little werewolf action—and mind-reading. As head of security, he’d surely know a whole lot more than this guard—and probably have access to the spare set of elevator keys. If there was a spare set. This guard couldn’t confirm that there was.

The elevator came to a stop. I withdrew from the guard’s mind, re-shielding quickly as the doors swished open. Directly opposite was what I presumed was another elevator, this one secured not only by a key and keypad, but by a thumbprint scanner as well. The hallway to either side was long and silent, with the only source of light coming from the elevator itself and two solitary light strips down either end. Shadows haunted the space in between, adding to the feeling of isolation.

“Mr. Moss waits for you down that end,” the guard said, pointing to the left. He had his hand on the elevator door to prevent it from closing, which obviously meant he wasn’t coming with me.

“What’s down that end?” I pointed to the right.

“Mr. Merle.”

“They don’t share quarters, then?”

The guard snorted. “They don’t share much at all.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Even women?”

“Especially women.” He motioned down the hall again. “You’d better move. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tough
was my instinctive response, but not one that was wise given my mission was to seduce first, raid mind second. So I nodded to the guard and headed off into the shadows. My footsteps echoed across the silence, a sharp tattoo of noise that rebounded eerily down the long hall. I’m sure the whole setup was meant to be scary—to induce that whole walking-into-the-shadowy-unknown fear.

And it might have worked had it not been for the fact that I’d faced far worse in the last four months. Shadows and the unknown were easy by comparison.

The small light above the metal door flicked to green as I approached, and the door slid open. The room beyond was surprisingly welcoming. A solitary light lit one corner of the large room, giving the golden walls an even richer hue but leaving the rest of the room to the shadows. The furnishings were a mix of oak wood and claret-colored cushioning, and thick woolen rugs were scattered across the carpeted floor. A room that was comfortable and inviting was not something that I would have associated with Moss, but then, what did I know about the man other than the fact he was a psychopath with a hot and heavy aura?

Moss wasn’t in the room, but something was. His scent was obscure, oddly hinting at earth and air. I stopped just behind one of the thickly padded sofas and let my gaze roam until I pinned his vague shape in the shadows. Another spirit lizard. Like the other versions I’d seen, this one also had suckered fingers and toes, so there was definitely gecko in their DNA mix somewhere. How “spirit” entered the equation was anyone’s guess, but I figured it might have something to do with the fact that even in a room lit by the glow of a lamp, he was almost invisible.

Not that he was cloaking himself as a vampire might. He didn’t need to. He was as naked as a newborn, and his skin was as black as the night. In the dusky light, he was little more than a black outline, a figure who had a basic shape but no distinct features. He didn’t even have any noticeable type of genitalia—male
or
female—so why I kept thinking of it as a “he” I’m not sure. Maybe it was the shape of his face—there was something a little more masculine than feminine about it.