Chapter 25
Matt
Robbie’s call from Chanda doesn’t come in, so we go together to the Hub where I meet up with Haverty who helps me with the paperwork while Robbie sits nervously as far from us as he can in the bedroom/dressing room/office space. The only thing about the room that really sticks out to me is a poster of a black and white chibi character with bunny ears that have swords on them and the words “Shah Mat!”
printed along the top. I don’t get it, but it is memorable.
When I’m done filling out the paperwork, I give Robbie the same tour that Jett gave me, we play the slots for about an hour, and then we go to the arena. I call him my assistant to get him onto the arena floor, and we take up a space out of the way from the other combatants.
Since I am the champion from last Saturday, I am required to be the first in the Cage, which means if I want to keep my title, I’ll have to fight exhaustively from five until ten. I spend the time before the first match, hydrating and watching the other fighters. Each and every person on the arena floor takes time to acknowledge me one way or another. Some of them come over and greet me, some look me in the eye with a respectful nod, and a couple show off their assets in an attempt to intimidate me. Those combatants I meet with a teeth-baring grin—a much more intimidating tactic than a claw flex.
Since I am more prepared for today’s fights, I dressed more appropriately. Armor is not allowed in the ring unless it’s natural, like scales on a reptilian non-human, and clothes give an advantage to the opponent because there are no rules against grabbing them. Last week, my underwear lasted until the fifth fight, when a guy with claws ripped them to shreds. So, I bought a speedo. I don’t expect the spandex to last, but at least I’ll start the day not completely nude.
When the time draws near, I start pulling off my clothes.
“What are you doing?”
Robbie squeaks, looking at me warily as he takes a step back.
“Saving my clothes from getting ruined,”
I reply, tossing my shirt to the floor and pulling down my pants. “Keep an eye on my stuff, will you?”
Robbie fish mouths at me, looks around in terror at the rest of the combatants, who are following my lead with their own clothes, and looks back at me. “I am fucking terrified,”
he confesses in a whisper.
Robbie doesn’t like anyone touching him, so I have to curb my first instinct to physically comfort him. “You’re here to talk to Chanda, remember? None of these guys are going to bother you; they’re completely focused on that.”
I point to the Cage. “Take a deep breath, cool your fear, and wait. If Chanda doesn’t show up by six, get out of here. If he arrives after you leave, I’ll bring him home with me after the fights. Ok?”
Robbie falteringly nods, closes his eyes, and does his breathing exercises.
The referee waves at me, my cue to get in the Cage. I jog over to the gate and slip inside, taking up my spot directly across from the gate. The emcee goes through his welcome spiel, explains the rules to the spectators, reminds them of the rules and procedures for placing bets, and then does a rumbling drum roll before introducing me. “Put your hands up in surrender to the Obsidite who took over the Cage last week and refused to relinquish it to anyone. He held on with his granite fists for four hours last week, can he last five today? Give it up for the Obsidian Reaper!”
I listen to the crowd go fucking wild, which gets my blood pumping excitedly. I love this shit. In this way, I am just like my old man. The announcer lets the crowd cheer for as long as they want, then calls out my first opponent.
I was informed that it’s first come, first fight for the combatants since there’s always more contenders than there is time for fights. Five hours seems like a long time, but while I’m in the Cage time flies. I shut down the first few opponents without taking a scratch, the fifth one gets a gash on my calf with his claw before I knock him out. Fifty minutes fly by in a flurry of fists, blood, and endorphins. Then, after my sixth match, the announcer calls for a break.
I make my way back to Robbie who looks like he’s gone the gamut of emotions since I got in there. “Hey, you seen Chanda?”
I ask as I towel off.
Robbie startles like he was staring at me too hard to hear me. “What?”
“Chanda. Have you seen him?”
I repeat, pushing the towel into my deepest cut as I open my first aid kit. I’m not allowed to use the salve that would heal me up right away, but I can attend my wounds using non-magical means, so I do what I can to stem my bleeding.
“I haven’t. Doesn’t that hurt? Do you need some help?”
he fires off, taking the bandages out of my hand. “God, you are bleeding so much.”
Robbie takes over the first aid like he has way more experience with this than he looks like he should, but now I’m glad to have him because I have some wounds that I just can’t reach on my back.
While he patches me up, the man we’ve waited for finally arrives wearing nothing but a loincloth. His eyes are bright, light brown and his aura shines a happy yellow. When I met him, he looked exactly like a young, professional teacher. Today, he looks like an interesting opponent. “Chanda,”
I greet him, offering him a handshake.
Chanda gives me an assessing once-over. “Been having fun without me?”
he laughs.
I grin at him. “It’s not my fault you arrived late. How did you even get on the roster?”
“I came early and signed up, but Loretta asked me for a reading, so I’ve been watching from the box,”
he nods up to the spectator box. “Hey Robbie,”
he adds, squeezing Robbie’s shoulder affectionately.
Robbie stiffens for a moment as he finishes placing the last butterfly bandage on my ribs. “I need to talk to you,”
Robbie tells him pointedly. “About my species?”
Chanda goes still for a moment, glancing around us. “We can talk about that later. It’s a private conversation, you get me?”
He’s clearly warning us about something.
Robbie’s brows furrow. “Okaaay,”
he drawls out, confused.
“I’ll treat you to ice cream after the fights and we’ll talk,”
Chanda assures him placing another hand on him.
I’ve seen Robbie flinch and jump away, and do everything he can to avoid physical contact with anyone bigger than him—the kid slinks through the crowded halls of our school like a fucking cat, avoiding touching anyone like he’s allergic to people, but he doesn’t throw Chanda off or even say anything like what he told the family when he arrived. He hasn’t been shy about saying he doesn’t like to be touched. So why isn’t he telling that to Chanda?
Before I can work out what’s up with Robbie, the ref waves me back to the Cage. “See you inside?”
I ask Chanda as I toss my towel onto my bag.
“Yep,”
Chanda agrees.
I jog back to the Cage and get in, waiting for the announcer to bring the crowd back and my next opponent to come. Two fights later, Chanda makes his appearance in the Cage. Dude is almost as tall as I am and just as broad, but his musculature is more lithe than robust like mine. So far, my opponents have relied on their advantages as non-humans to try to win against me, which isn’t an effective strategy when I have an encyclopedic knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses. To my knowledge, the only advantage Chanda has as a non-human is his ability to read the strings of Fate with the help of his nkisi, which won’t help him much in the Cage. This will be a skill fight and I am excited for it.
So far, I’ve taken up the position of defender, allowing my opponent to attack first, but when the gong rings, I make the first move. If he watched me for an hour, he probably studied how I work defensively, but he doesn’t know how I work on the offense, and since I know nothing about his style, this puts us on more even footing. I come at him with open hands rather than fists, testing his defense. He’s fast, quickly avoiding or parrying my hits. I get one good hit to his chest with the palm of my hand, which is when I learn that he’s as solid as I am. That dull thud does nothing to affect him, so I reevaluate what I know about Diviners. Obviously there’s more to him than just a bit of psychic talent.
I let him get a forceful punch in to test his actual strength and am genuinely surprised by the bone deep ache he leaves in my ribs. Fuck, he’s solid. But that lets me know I need to treat him more like my old man than the other fighters I’ve faced. Renewed by this, I grin and start fighting in earnest. We dance around the Cage for longer than my usual fights until he makes a significant mistake. He takes a step back to kick; he’s faster than me and gets his leg swinging, but he goes too high or not high enough. I catch his leg under my arm, moving with the momentum of his kick to take him off his feet. I slam his back onto the mat and hit him, knocking the breath out of him with a knee to the diaphragm, then spin him onto his front and pin him to the mat.
“Fuck,”
he grunts. “I’m out,”
he admits just before the gong sounds.
I jump up and help him to his feet, smiling like I’m crazy because that was a fucking fun fight. “Thank you,”
I tell him, pulling him into a bro-hug.
He claps my back. “You’re quite the fighter, Reaper.”
“Same to you. Seriously, what is your secondary species? You are way more solid than a human.”
He chuckles. “Obsidite, of course.”
“Fuckin’ knew it.”
He claps my arm again before jogging out of the gate and letting my next opponent in.
I fucking made it. It’s nearly ten and I have the last contender, a Vampire who can’t feel pain and isn’t affected by hard hits, finally pinned. The guy almost had me a couple of times, but I finished this fight. The gong sounds, so I jump up. The Vampire grins at me. “Congratulations on another week, Reaper,”
he offers, holding out his hand.
I don’t know how I feel about the nickname I earned last week, but I do like hearing the respect my fellow contenders show by using it. “Thank you.”
I shake his hand as the gong sounds again.
The Vampire and I look at the referee as he opens the Cage. “Justice out, Reaper stays. Loretta wants one more fight,”
he tells us.
The Vampire nods and takes his leave. I glance up at the skybox in confusion as two burly men escort my next opponent into the Cage. Its eyes burn with malicious fire, gnashing sharp teeth at me. Completely naked, the person has no outward sign of gender and looks like they’ve been through the ringer with a whip before even entering the Cage. The announcer comes on over the loudspeaker. “Agathel of Tartarus stands convicted of ten murders of human children, spree killing, and exposing non-humans to the human authorities requiring the erasure of more than forty human minds. For these crimes, Agathel is sentenced to death in the Cage.”
The burly men shove Agathel to his knees and escape the Cage, locking me in as the gong sounds. I don’t have time to blink before the Demon attacks.
Fuck.
Unnatural fear presses into me from his completely black aura as a tendril of it wraps around me. This thing is a real fucking Demon, and he’s going to kill me if I lose.
FuckfuckfuckFUCK!!!
I barely manage to avoid his long claws ripping me to shreds, escaping with four shallow cuts. He’s fast, faster than me, but I’m taller and have the advantage of reach. I force myself to ignore the panic his aura tries to foment in me and calm my mind so that I can see the movement he projects. He isn’t a trained fighter, his movements are sloppy, if vicious. I can win this.
Once I can see his intent clearly, I work better at avoiding his murderous attacks. I know two things about how to kill a Demon: they can only be killed by one of their own kind, and anyone who drinks their blood will temporarily take on the aspects of the Demon to whom the blood belongs. I don’t want to drink Demon blood; fuck, I don’t want to kill a person.
Fuck Loretta for doing this. She has a Headsman for this shit.
I’ve stayed on the defense too long, and I’m already exhausted from being in this fucking cage for five hours. I barely won against the Vampire. I need to make a sacrifice to get the advantage—if it’s even possible.
I take the chance, letting the Demon shred my back from shoulder to thigh as I come in, locking my teeth into his neck. I gulp down the first squirt of blood, then the next, and the next until my body practically vibrates with energy. I shove him off me and the Demon flies into the Cage wall—my inherent strength has increased so fucking much thanks to the demon blood. I follow after him, dashing faster than I naturally can. I feel claws grow out of my nail beds and dig them in deep into his chest cavity under his ribs with my left hand as I slash his neck to the bone with my dominant hand.
The Demon doesn’t miss a beat. Its claws come at me, forcing me to pull out and catch them. From the side, I hear Chanda’s voice yelling at me. “You have to rip him apart!”
Fuck. That’s right. I have to dismember this fucker and somehow burn his remains to kill him. Shit.
I make another sacrifice, grabbing one arm and ripping it out of the socket, tearing it off by using my new claws to tear through the connective tissue. The squelch of blood and flesh hits me, forcing me to blank my mind or risk vomiting. The Demon buries his other hand into my gut, causing more pain than I have ever felt, but I am completely disconnected from it because of the demon blood racing through me. I know I’m hurt; I know it’s bad, I’m sure I’m going to die if I don’t end this now, but I just don’t connect to the pain.
I throw his arm away, grab the other and rip it off the way I did the first one, tossing it in the opposite direction. I take his head in hand and twist until it comes free, rolling it away as well. Once he’s armless and headless, the rest comes more easily but with a whole lot more gagging.
I get his legs pulled off one at a time and then look at the guys who brought him in. “I don’t have fire,”
I tell them blankly. Even I know my voice has gone dead. I want to retreat into my mind, but the Demon’s hands have started dragging its arms toward its body and it’s only a matter of time before it puts itself back together.
Chanda appears then, hitting the chain link fence to get my attention. “You have fire. You have Demon blood in you, you have fire. Find it and light that fucker up,”
he yells at me.
Ah. That’s what that itch in my throat is. I turn to the Demon’s torso, cough and end up spewing flames at it. It lights up like a torch, so I toss the other parts onto the fire and watch as the Demon’s body burns to ash. The magic vibrating through me crashes as soon as the Demon dies, bringing me to my knees, feeling weak and wrung out. The Cage opens and Chanda runs in, grabbing me up. He gets my arm around his shoulder and drags me out of the Cage. I make it as far as my feet can carry me before my wounds catch up and I lose consciousness.