Chapter 17
Matt
The Hub is a four-story building with three sublevels accessible only via a hidden stairway that is in a secretary’s office which is hidden behind a door marked as the janitor’s closet. The gorgeous woman sitting at the desk in the room barely glances up from her computer before sneering, “Name?”
“Matt Blank,”
I reply, surprised by her hostility.
She waves her hand at the wall and a black doorway appears. “Down two flights, hang a left, third door on the left. Ask for Jett if you get lost, you ugly motherfuck.”
Wow. That is a lot of hostility. I don’t think being ugly deserves that kind of treatment.
I walk through the door, into a brightly lit stairwell and take the steps two at a time to the correct sublevel. It opens to a hall that branches off left and right, circling what might be the arena I’ve heard about where the cage fights happen.
Following her instructions, I knock on the third door on the left. After a moment, a small, lithe woman with bright pink hair and a cheerful yellow aura answers the door wearing nothing more than sequin booty shorts and a triangle bikini top that barely covers her nipples, hitting me with a welcoming smile full of needle-sharp teeth. She’s a Scylla descendant or maybe a type of Faerie—it’s hard to tell with just teeth to go on. “Matt Blank D’Aquino, right?”
she asks cheerfully as she steps back to make room for me.
I nod. “Jett?”
“Yep, that’s me. Come on in, pull up a seat wherever.”
She waves to the room, which looks like a dressing room—vanity, clothes rack—with a bed and a small desk and a filing cabinet. Maybe she lives here, and it works as her bedroom and office?
I don’t trust the folding chair at her desk, so I carefully sit on the edge of the bed, testing its sturdiness before I sit.
She pulls a manila folder off her desk and hands it to me, then startles me by reaching into her mouth and breaking one of her teeth off. She holds the enamel grey tooth up so I can see it clearly. “So, I stab you with this and whatever color it turns into is your main species. If you have more than one species, there will be stripes that indicate that. It hurts like a bitch, and it will leave a puncture wound that won’t heal without help. If you have healing salve, that will work, but if not, you’ll have to buy some because I don’t give shit away for free. The Maledict already paid for the test and the document, but he didn’t buy the salve.”
“How much?”
I ask, unsure that I have enough cash on me for incidentals like this; salve is probably expensive.
“It’s three hundred per jar,”
she replies.
Definitely not enough cash. “How much for a dab after you stab me?”
“Thirty bucks,”
she replies immediately.
“I’ll give you ten.”
She smirks at me. “Twenty-five.”
We both know where this is going, so I respond as expected. “Fifteen, and you’re stealing from me.”
She chuffs. “Twenty-two, and it’s expensive to create; complain to the manufacturer.”
“Eighteen—who makes it?”
“Me. Twenty, final offer.”
I pull a twenty out of my wallet and hold it out to her. “Enough to heal the wound,”
I clarify before she can take my money.
She gives me a cheery smile. “Done,”
she says, swiping the cash and pocketing it. She stands closer than she absolutely needs to, nearly pressing her large breasts into my face, and quickly stabs the tooth into my neck, leaving it stuck in there while she straightens up. “Give it about ten seconds to read your blood.”
She grabs a tin of salve from her desk while we wait.
Fuck it hurts. More than I expected, more than a puncture wound generally hurts. There’s some kind of venom on the tooth that makes it hurt like a bitch, which means she’s definitely a Scylla descendant.
I hiss as she pulls the tooth out and immediately dabs the salve into the wound, which alleviates the pain.
“Oh yeah, definitely Obsidite,”
she trills holding up the tooth which looks exactly like obsidian with a streak of reddish clay color and another of seafoam green. “The sienna color is the human in you, almost everyone who needs this test has that in it, and then the seafoam green is what all the descendants of the sea have including mermaids, sirens, Scyllas like me—well, there’s a lot. I can’t narrow it down from there because it’s your tertiary trait, and it doesn’t matter unless you are a direct descendant of Poseidon himself, who will claim you, if that’s true. I have to send this tooth to his people for further testing to find that out.”
“What do you mean he will claim me?”
I question, suspicious that I won’t like the answer.
“He will take custody of you until you reach the age of majority for his descendants, then you will probably end up working for him over on Antikythera in the Mediterranean Sea.”
“I am already a citizen of the Demesne D’Aquino,”
I point out.
She shrugs. “Poseidon does whatever he wants because he literally has the most powerful army in the world at his disposal and non-interference treaties with most of the realms and species that could give him a run for his money, so unless the Maledict is willing to chance a curse on a god, you’ll probably be taken if you’re a descendant.”
I grab the tooth out of her hand. “No, thanks. I have no interest in emigrating to Greece,”
I tell her, standing up.
She cocks her head at me. “I take bribes, but I won’t be stolen from.”
I pull my wallet out and drop the tooth in it, then hand her the rest of my cash. “Thank you for the souvenir.”
She takes the money and pockets it. “You’re welcome. I just need to fill in the relevant information and have you sign the registration forms.”
She bends over her desk for a minute, purposefully giving me quite the view of her back assets before standing up and bringing me a clipboard with a single sheet of paper on it.
I review the information. The paper looks like a birth certificate, but with the addition of a species information line. Once I check to make sure it’s all correct, I sign on the line and that’s that. She takes the paper, sets it in a tray on her desk, and turns to me with her bubbly smile lighting up her face.
“Now, do you want a tour of the Hub? You’re officially an adult non-human, you can participate in any of the services provided here, and Loretta likes to meet new residents of the Houston Hub. She may not remember you in a year or two, but it’s important that you can recognize her on sight.”
“Sure,”
I agree since I don’t have anything else planned for the evening and it seems like a good idea to take a breather from everything going on at home.
Specifically, Deejay.
“Cool,”
she pops, hopping to her door and leading me out. “This level is the sex services level—if you have need, you can buy company for an hour, the base rate is three hundred an hour and tips are expected, so if you come here for a bit of fun bring at least three-fifty, capiche?”
“Understood,”
I agree, though I can’t imagine any circumstance in which I have to pay for sex. I mean, before I came to Texas, as long as I lied about my age, I never had problems finding hook-ups. Something about getting fucked by a guy who can hurt a person does it for some people. If it’s just a hookup, I don’t care what their motivations are. I wouldn’t want that in a relationship, but having never been in a real long-term relationship, it hasn’t come up.
She leads me to the stairs and down one level. The hall circles again, and she takes me to a door and through into a room that follows the circular contour of the hallway. “This is the casino,”
she waves at a crowded room with plenty of slots, and tables for anyone who wants to lose all their money, which I have none, so there isn’t a mote of temptation here. “No one can cheat in this room, so don’t bother trying. There’s an anti-cheating enchantment on the whole room.”
“Does that mean that the house also can’t cheat?”
I ask curiously.
She grins at me. “The house doesn’t need to cheat. Wanna play something?”
I shake my head. “I already spent my wad.”
She shrugs and leads me back to the stairs and up to the first sublevel. The door leads to the same wide hall that circles around the center, but this time, directly in front is an entrance into the crowded arena at the bottom of which I see a large cage with two people viciously fighting. Around the outside of the Cage, other contenders prepare themselves. “This is the Cage. You’re with me, but usually there’s an entrance fee. During the day on Saturdays, contenders fight for glory and money. At night, the Headsman takes the Cage and executes judgments. If you want to make some money, you get paid a percentage of the bets even if you lose. The fights are non-lethal, but obviously not harmless.”
She indicates the current match. One of the contenders has lost a chunk of his dominant arm, losing any chance of winning. “Come,”
she urges me, walking back out of the arena.
I follow her down the hall, contemplating the opportunity she’s presented me. I boxed and trained in MMA, it wasn’t cage fighting, but I could do that. I should finish memorizing the encyclopedia so that I don’t make a stupid mistake like get bitten by a venomous non-human, but the idea appeals me. It would be a great way to expend my pent-up energy. Sitting on my hands for the last few weeks has been a trial of discipline. The only relief has been the in-home gym Deejay has, though it’s not quite rated for my strength.
She leads me to a private doorway that automatically opens for her as we approach. She takes my wrist in hand and leads me through the door. “No entry for anyone not in the hand of an authorized person,”
she explains, dropping my wrist once we’re through.
I hum a wordless acknowledgment. She takes me to a spectator box with a smattering of various types of non-humans. She leads me to a table, overlooking the arena, where a woman with long, platinum blond hair and dark brown eyes sits silently, smiling affectionately at a gorgeous Elf with silver hair. She looks up at our approach, smiling genially. Her aura is bright like a non-human, but interesting in that the main color is beige. Unlike the Chaos Eater, whose main color was yellow, hers is really, really beige.
“This is Matt Blank D’Aquino,”
Jett announces.
“I am Loretta Long, proprietor of the Houston Hub. Deejay has been a friend of mine for many years. I am happy to meet another of his sons,”
the androgynous person standing behind her says, affecting the speech patterns I would expect from a person familiar with Deejay, but the person’s face remains blank; doesn’t even look at me.
I furrow my brow at him—or her—then look at the woman I assume is Loretta. “I’m not his son nor his nephew actually. His sister was briefly my old man’s girl before he died.”
She looks unsurprised. “I assumed he would adopt you.”
“No. He’s planning on adopting my little brother, but I refused. According to the Obsidites, I’m already an adult, and am not keen on the idea of Deejay adopting me.”
Because that would make things more awkward than they already are.
“There are benefits to going through an adoption. Mostly financial and legal, but unnecessary,”
she points out.
“Unnecessary, as you say,”
I shrug, glancing out the window, drawn by the fight going on. “Is there an age limit?”
I ask, pointing to the people on the floor.
“You must be considered an adult capable of signing an enforceable contract,”
she replies with a considering expression. “There is an entrance fee, but I would waive it for you if you were willing to get into the Cage next. Whether you win or lose, you get three percent of the profits from the bets placed on your fight; if you win, that will double. Payouts are typically between five hundred and a thousand dollars, but an unknown like you could draw more than the usual bets. The condition is, you stay in the Cage until you lose or until the Headsman takes it. What do you think?”
“Non-lethal?”
I confirm, more than tempted now. I am itching for a fight.
“Correct,”
she smiles, knowing she has me.
“I’d like to get in there,”
I agree, watching as the match ends as quickly as it began. The victor helps the loser out of the Cage, gently handing the unconscious man to a member of the staff. “Are there rules I should be aware of?”
“Jett will give you the short list. Go get in the Cage now; that match ended faster than expected, but you’re up if you’re going in today.”
I nod to her. “Nice meeting you, Loretta.”
She smiles with a tiny amount of affection. “It is my pleasure to welcome one of Deejay’s family to Houston. I look forward to your match, Obsidite.”
I take my leave, following Jett back out at a jog. She explains the rules as she runs me straight to the Cage, opening the door for me. “Your clothes are going to be destroyed, so make your choice. No one will look twice if you go in naked or in just your underwear; it might make the betting more interesting if you show some of that off,”
she waves at my body.
I glance at the man in the Cage only wearing a loincloth and nod, stripping my shirt and pants off. She takes them and pushes me into the Cage. Then the announcer calls out the name of my opponent: Salvador Gainsworth, and his species: Wolverine shifter, then he announces mine. The spectators have three minutes to put in their bets and it gives me a moment to size up my opponent. I saw him treat his last opponent gently after the fact, but he ended the fight without a wasted move. He’s efficient, which makes me cautious, but he’s a shifter, and while strong, not as strong as I am. Also, I can take a beating better than most: I was my father’s boxing opponent since forever.
The gong rings out, starting the match, and Salvador launches at me, coming in low rather than high. I let him come in close, taking a page from my father’s handbook. The moment he completely commits to his move, I catch him with a knee to the chest and bring my elbow down simultaneously. I have to pull back my strength to avoid accidentally decapitating him, which means he doesn’t go straight down. I grab him by the hips and lift, turning him upside down and immediately tossing him into the metal chain link of the Cage. He hits the wall and drops to the floor. I pounce before he has the chance to recover, pinning him. The gong sounds and the announcer calls out my victory. I get back to my feet, offering him my hand. “Thank you for the match,”
I tell him sincerely.
He smiles broadly at me as he takes my hand. “Thank you, Matt. I will train harder for our next fight.”
“And I will as well so I can give you a good one,”
I chuckle.
He slips out of the Cage and the next opponent comes in, sizing me up as the announcer does his thing and gives the audience time to place their bets. This one is a small goblin, but that’s his advantage. Goblins are fast—much faster than me. I won’t be able to catch him and would wear myself out trying. He’s nowhere near as strong as I am, but all he has to do is wear me out to win. I will have to avoid that, and his teeth. Those fuckers are deadly, though the rules require him to hold back in order not to kill me. That doesn’t mean he can’t take chunks out of me on the way to his victory.
The gong sounds. I back myself up two steps as he darts forward. I sidestep just before he reaches me, but it’s close. I was almost too slow. He runs into the Cage wall but bounces back with a hiss as I shoot out my arm to catch him on the bounce back. He hits my arm, but dashes away before I can get my hand on him. I put my back to the wall, facing him again. He runs to my left, intent on getting behind me, so I let him. He gets his teeth into my ribs just as I push him up against the chain link, causing him to lose his bite as he yelps. I get my arm around his neck, pulling him over my body and slamming him into the floor, pinning him with his face pushed into the floor. There’s no rule against biting, but damn if it doesn’t bother me that he got his teeth in me.
Fucker.
The gong sounds announcing my victory.
I let him go, and stand, offering my hand, but he’s up before I can get it up there, grinning his sharp teeth at me. “Good match, Obsidite. You’re smarter than you look.”
I huff a laugh. “Thanks, I guess.”
He runs out of the Cage and the next opponent enters. I glance up at the spectator box, wondering if Loretta is giving me easy matches or if all that training my dad put me through puts me on par with these fighters. My old man was a mean drunk and didn’t pull his punches in or out of the ring. I can’t count the number of times I had to knock his drunk ass flat to get him to sober up. This, inside this metal cage, is way more fun than anything I ever did with that old man.