Tempting Evil (31 page)

It was all so very formal. All so very melodramatic. These people were basically sanctioning a murder and
no one
seemed to give a damn.

The cage came down, then the announcer said, “Release her ropes. Release her competition,” before beating a hasty retreat.

Nerida rolled her shoulders, shook her arms, as the doors near Starr began to open. From out of the shadows came the thin, blue humanoids with the butterfly wings. Anticipation trembled through the air, touched with a lust that was both sexual and blood-based.

The blue things halted just past the door and lightly fanned their wings. As the lights highlighted the jewel-like colors, one of them began to fan harder and, with gentle grace, rose in the air. The other walked forward, his wings fanning slowly.

They were repeating
exactly
their actions from the first fight. Maybe that was their pattern, what they did each and every time. And if I’d noticed it, surely Nerida—who was military trained—would.

“When the fight starts,” I said softly to Berna, “stand up and tell her to attack the wings.”

“What?”

“Trust me. It’s her only chance at beating those things.”

“So why don’t you tell her that?”

I looked at her. “Do you really think she’ll trust anything I say?”

Berna sniffed. There was no point in answering simply because we both knew the fox-shifter would do the exact opposite of anything I suggested.

Unlike the previous woman we’d witnessed in the arena, Nerida didn’t attack, just waited as the one creature walked toward her and the second soared high.

“Now,” I said to Berna.

The bear-shifter thrust to her feet. “Nerida, their wings!”

Footsteps rushed toward our table and air sighed its warning. I spun, grabbing the butt of the rifle before it cracked Berna’s head open, stopping the blow in its tracks. The guard cursed me.

“Two against one hardly seems fair,” I said mildly. “A little advice surely can’t hurt.”

The guard didn’t answer, his gaze going instead to the other end of the room. I twisted, saw Starr shake his head. That smile seemed larger. The guy was a freak, no doubt about it.

The guard stepped back, though he remained within rifle-butt range. I turned and watched the fight.

The second creature flicked his wings and dove downward even as the first creature leapt into action. Nerida dropped low to avoid his blow, then swept with her foot, knocking the blue thing off his feet. With the air screaming under the force of the other creature’s plummet, Nerida rolled out of his path and back to her feet in one smooth action. Claws raked the air, barely missing her stomach. As the creature soared upward again, she ran and leapt high, landing on the creature’s back. It screamed—a high sound that was neither animal nor human. Nerida grabbed the base of the wings and drew her legs up underneath her, hanging on so tightly as the creature bucked and twisted that the white glow of her knuckles was evident even from where we sat.

The first creature screamed and rose into the air. Nerida gave it a glance, then, after positioning her feet a little more, pushed up and twisted backward hard and fast.

Wings are such delicate creations. No matter how strong the body underneath, a wing can so easily be crushed. Or destroyed. I knew that from experience. These wings were no different from the ones I’d ripped apart.

With an odd sort of popping sound, the wings tore free from the blue creature’s flesh. As blood and wings and screams filled the air, the creature—with Nerida still riding its back—plummeted toward the sand. As the other creature swooped to the aid of its mate, Nerida leapt. Not for the fast-approaching ground but onto the back of the remaining winged creature.

It didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it was too busy trying to stall the dive of its mate. Maybe it simply wasn’t bright enough to realize it, too, was about to have its flight skills clipped.

Either way, Nerida grasped the wings and tore them free a second time. Then she leapt off the creature’s back, hit the ground running, and finished off what she’d started with the wings.

Very quickly, very neatly.

The crowd was silent for several heartbeats, then applauded wildly. Anticipating the bloodbath that was to come.

My gaze went to Starr. He was leaning forward in his chair, talking to Merle. After several nods, Merle rose and made his way toward the arena.

The crowd became silent again. Nerida stood in the middle of the arena, breathing a little faster than normal but seemingly otherwise unperturbed.

“Any advice on beating this one?” Berna said softly.

“I’ve never seen him fight. I don’t know what he can do.” Or what Starr had ordered him to do.

But one thing was sure—it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Starr not only played dirty, he played to win. I had no doubt his lieutenants would, too.

Merle leapt over the railing and dropped onto the sand. Nerida flexed her hands, but otherwise didn’t move. Merle studied her for a moment, an arrogant smile touching his lips. “You will die, little fox. You have not a hope against me.”

“Vengeance is a powerful motivator against the odds,” she said. “Never dismiss it out of hand.”

“Oh, I won’t. But vengeance should never outweigh common sense.” With those words, he took out a gun from behind his back and shot her. Red bloomed across her chest, and just for a moment, shock and anger touched her features. Then she dropped like a boneless sack to the ground.

Berna surged to her feet, crying out in denial and rage. The guard behind us stepped forward, gun butt raised. I twisted, knocking him off his feet, then froze as the muzzle of another gun dug into the back of my neck. Call me strange, but I liked my brains just the way they were.

Three guards jumped on Berna. She fought them, grabbing at their weapons, trying to claim one. More guards jumped into the fray, overwhelming her with sheer weight of numbers. As she went down, I heard a click, and realized someone had tried to fire a gun. In that mass of bodies it could have been deadly. But something had gone wrong, because there was no blood, no gore, no moans of pain.

Maybe the weapon had misfired.

Or maybe it hadn’t even been loaded.

A freak like Starr wouldn’t want loaded weapons within easy reach of his rivals. He wouldn’t take the risk. Probably the only live weapons in the room were the ones being held by Starr and his entourage.

The guards finally managed to restrain Berna. Her gaze went to the arena, to the lifeless body lying on the sand, and her shoulders drooped. There was nothing anyone could do for Nerida now. Not even save her.

Movement in the shadowed corners of the room caught my eye. Ethereal wisps stirred in that darkness. The dead were gathering to collect their revenge.

My gaze darted back to the arena. Merle had lowered the weapon and was walking across to the fox-shifter’s body. Underneath her chest was an ever-growing pool of red-soaked sand. Nerida didn’t appear to be breathing and yet the dead were holding themselves to the shadows.

Maybe the fox was foxing.

Merle stopped and kicked her in the side. There was no response. He did it again, harder this time. Still no response. He bent and warily pressed a finger to her neck.

“Not dead,” he said, looking up at Starr. “But close to.”

Starr waved a hand. “Feed her meat to the zoo carnivores. They will enjoy the sweetness for a change.”

“No!” Berna’s voice echoed around the room. “She’s alive. You can’t do that. It’s not human.”

“There are very few us of here who are human.” Starr’s dead gaze moved to me, and the chills running down my spine became a landslide. He knew. Who I was, why I was there. The knowledge was right there in his unholy gaze and in the arrogant smile stretching his thin lips. “But if there is someone who cares enough for this person, I will allow another challenge.”

He was baiting me, challenging me. I didn’t bite. I couldn’t, not until I heard from Jack.

“What? So you can allow your coward of a lieutenant to shoot them, too?” Berna shouted, struggling against the grip of the men who held her. “I hardly call that fair.”

“This is my arena, my rules. Those who disobey me or try to betray me must expect swift revenge. Justice will never enter the equation.”

It was more a warning to the heads of the other cartels who were in this room than a statement to Berna. And it was one I bet everyone in that room took heed of.

I looked back to the arena as Merle walked away from Nerida, the gun held loosely in one hand by his side. His left side, the side closest to Nerida.

She came to life, lunging forward in one of those risk-all movements that only the very desperate make. She snatched the gun from Merle’s hand, twisted around as she dropped back to the sand, then pulled the trigger and shot his brains out the back of his head.

Chapter 15

A
s bits of bone and blood and gray matter sprayed across the sand, she slumped back down and didn’t move. Merle fell like a stone beside her.

A wisp that seemed little more than steam but was much, much more began to rise from her body. The dead moved in to collect their prize.

I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Nerida had her revenge—or part of it, at least. But heaven—or whatever it was that fox-shifters believed in—was now beyond her reach. Hell was her resting place. A hell that involved an eternity of torment from the ghosts of those she’d killed.

“No!” Berna’s scream seemed to echo around and around the arena. No one moved, no one said anything. Not even me.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Amusement rode Starr’s voice. Maybe he had other Merles in the making, so it didn’t matter if he lost this one. He was still staring at me, challenging me. There was no sign of anything other than the certainty that he would get what he wanted in those soulless depths. What he wanted was me to fight. But my fate would not be death, like Nerida, but something far worse. A one-way trip to the hell of the breeding pens.

But even as I sat there, returning his arrogant, over-confident, insane gaze, the wolf within rose snarling to the surface. This bastard had beaten me, drugged me, and all but destroyed my white-picket-fence-and-babies dream. Worse still, he’d beaten my brother to a pulp. Not because he needed to, but because he
wanted
to. Because he enjoyed it.

I needed revenge. Needed it.
Now.

I might fear the fate I saw in his eyes, and I certainly feared the man himself, but I’d be damned if I could sit here any longer cowering like a newborn pup. If I was going to fight, then I’d damn well do it my way. It might not change the outcome, but at least I’d go down fighting.

“Are there any other grievances I should know about?” he continued. “Is there anyone else who feels the need to challenge my lieutenant or myself?”

The wise remained silent.

No one would ever accuse me of being wise.

I rose to my feet. The gun barrel rested against my neck again, so cold against my skin. I twisted, punched the man holding the weapon in the balls, then grabbed the gun as he went down. A dozen other weapons were instantly aimed in my direction.

I dangled the useless weapon from a finger and smiled. “Tell them to fire, Starr. I dare you.”

He didn’t take up the dare. Surprise, surprise. “What do you want?”

“I challenge that loose-assed prick, otherwise known as Moss, to a fight. Knives or guns or bare knuckles, as long as we are both equally armed.” My gaze went to Moss. “Or is your remaining lieutenant as scared of a girl as your first one was?”

Moss thrust angrily to his feet. Like that was a surprise. “You want a fight, you’ll get one.” His gaze swept me. “When I finish beating you, I shall enjoy fucking you.”

“Because the only way you can get it up is by beating someone up first.”

“Can I just point out,” Jack said into my ear, “that this doesn’t really sound like you’re intending to wait for my thumbs-up?”

Moss snarled. It was an ugly, nasty sound. Starr laughed. “I shall enjoy watching this fight and its aftermath. What shall we agree to? Knives?”

“And skin.” I met his gaze squarely. “No place to shove hidden weapons. Unless, of course, he’s a bum lover like yourself.”

Starr’s smile was lazy. “And you’d know all about them, wouldn’t you? Your missing flatmate is one, after all.”

Flatmate,
not
brother. No matter what else Starr knew about us, he was still missing that vital bit of information.

“Why all the chatter, Starr? Giving your bum-buddy time to stick that gun up his ass? Or is it more the fact that you know what I can do, know that I can beat him, and you’re just waiting for the troops to get some bullets in their guns?”

“We found the lab, Riley,” Jack said. “We haven’t moved in to take control yet, but we have forces at the ready. We’re also surrounding the estate. Feel free to take your revenge, though from the sound of it, you intended to anyway. Just remember your training and don’t die on me.”

“There will be no interference from guards or guns,” Starr said. “You’re right, I
do
know what you can do, and you are so far beneath Moss it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you always prone to such errors of judgment?”

He merely smiled. “Moss, enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I will.” Moss finished stripping and walked down to the arena. “Join me on the sands if you dare, little girl.”

My grin was sheer anticipation. I dropped the gun and walked down to the arena gate. The sand was surprisingly warm under my feet. It was also very grainy, sucking at every step, making free-flowing movement that much harder. But what slowed me would have greater impact on Moss. He was bigger, heavier.

I walked past the bodies of Nerida and Merle. The smell of their blood twitched my nose, and my wolf soul stirred excitedly. It wanted blood. Wanted to rent and tear at flesh and muscle and bone.

I didn’t often let her free. Most wolves controlled their nature simply because we had no other choice in this modern, human-governed world. Maybe that was why we put so much passion, so much energy, into the moon dances. The wildness that was so much a part of our nature had to go
somewhere
.

But tonight, the chains around my wolf would be dropped. I needed every ounce of her strength, all her ruthlessness, and most of all, her readiness to take punishment if it meant being the eventual winner. Jack might have trained me to be a guardian, but I’d been a fighter all my life. It was those skills—the skills of a scrappy street fighter combined with the hunting instincts of a wolf—that would serve me best here. I couldn’t play nice because Moss or Starr certainly wouldn’t.

I stopped in the center of the arena. Moss strode toward me, a knife held in each hand. I raised my gaze to his, watching his eyes, waiting for the moment he decided to throw the knife.

His smile was all confidence. Tasting his victory. Anticipating it.

He continued to walk toward me. I shifted my stance, ready to move, to fight.

Most people telegraph their intended move in their eyes a brief second before they actually do it. Moss wasn’t one of those people. His hand rose in a single, blurring movement, and suddenly the knife was a glittering streak of silver aimed my way.

I stepped sideways, then reached out and caught the knife. Pain slithered up my arm as one edge of the blade sliced into my palm, but I ignored it, flipped the knife, and wrapped my fingers around the hilt.

“Thank you for the weapon.”

Moss laughed. “To a good fight,” he said, saluting me with the blade of his own knife.

“To the glory of your death and the ghosts who will enjoy tormenting your soul.”

He raised a mocking eyebrow. “Ghosts hold no fear to me.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“And you are bleeding. The first cut of many.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when he was coming at me, a whirlwind of power and speed and sheer, bloody force. I weaved and dodged and blocked, using every skill, every instinct. He was fast, there was no doubt about it, but he was bigger and heavier and the sand was hindering him more than it was me.

Eventually, several blows got through my defense, one nicking my left breast, the other cutting my stomach. But I was still upright, still relatively unhurt, after several minutes of heavy fighting. Best of all, I’d managed to mark Moss. It enraged him, as I’d hoped it would.

He came at me again, a blurring mass of muscle, anger, and determination. I continued to dodge and weave, but let myself be forced backward. Ever backward.

If you need help in any way, I am here, in the room.
Quinn’s voice swept into my mind, as comforting as a cool breeze on a hot summer day.
I found a guard with similar weight, coloring, and height.

A guard who was undoubtedly feeding the fish in the lake as we spoke. I ducked under a sweeping slash of blade, then spun and kicked. Moss sucked in his gut, and my blow missed. Not so his knife. It sliced across my foot and damn near took off a toe. I snarled in frustration and pain and Moss laughed.

He was enjoying himself. I was happy for him. Truly. A condemned man should always enjoy his last meal.

I watched him warily, even as I said to Quinn,
You’re in the room and not taking the chance to kill Starr yourself?
I leaned back to miss the sweep of Moss’s fist, and slashed at his arm with my knife. It missed, but at that point I didn’t really care.
Why?

Because there is a sharpshooter sitting in the shadows at the opposite end of the arena from Starr. He has orders to kill you if you win.

I backed away, and swiped at the sweat running down my forehead with a bloody arm. Confidence fairly oozed from Moss’s pores and yet there was annoyance in his eyes. Which didn’t make sense when he thought he was winning…my gaze skimmed his body and saw the problem. He wasn’t getting an erection. He needed fear to get it up, and I wasn’t giving it to him.

I waved the knife at his inactive bits. “Hard to rape a girl when there’s no action happening downstairs. Maybe you really do prefer boys.”

He snarled and attacked. Again and again. I dodged, attacking him when opportunities arose, taking hits every now and again but never truly deep ones. And all the while, I kept backing away.

The smell of blood and death began to touch the air. We were close to the bodies. Very close.

He lunged forward. I jumped backward. My feet hit Merle’s body, but rather than steadying myself, I went with the momentum of the fall. Moss laughed and raised the knife, the bloody blade glittering silver as the lights caressed it. I twisted in the air so that I landed on my side, then thrust an arm under Nerida’s body. My hand touched the barrel of a gun, my fingers burning with the closeness of silver even as I gripped the handle.

As the air screamed with the force of Moss’s oncoming blow, I pulled the gun free, aimed at Starr, and shot his fucking brains out.

A second shot rang out almost simultaneously, and Moss fell backward, a small hole in the middle of his forehead.

Quinn, finishing things off.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it.

It was over. Done.

Moss was dead, Starr was dead, and pandemonium was beginning to erupt around the arena.

And like it or not, I’d just stepped over the line and become a full-fledged guardian.