Chapter 50
Matt
The waiting is interminable. No one comes to the cell at all. We don’t get food or water, but oddly, it’s like we’re in some kind of stasis because we don’t feel hunger or the urge to expel waste, not that there is a toilet. The bed exists, but we don’t get sleepy unless we try to take off his gag. It’s like we exist in a state of suspended animation, except we can move, think, and talk—at least I can. Not that I have much to say. Instead we just wait, sitting together without moving for hours, worrying about our family, about our boys, about what will happen to us.
When someone does finally come visit us, it’s Loretta with her voice, Jett, and Haverty.
“Maledict, Reaper,”
Loretta says solemnly. “It is my duty to inform you that in eight hours, Matt will face the Headsman in the Cage for the crime of child abuse. Should the Headsman defeat you, you will be executed for your crimes. Should you defeat the Headsman, your execution will be stayed on the condition that you take over the position of Headsman for one quarter of your lifespan or until you are defeated. As an Obsidite, you are expected to live around three hundred years, therefore you would be expected to remain Headsman for seventy-five years. As Headsman, you will have your freedom for as long as you continue to work and will enjoy all the benefits that come with the job including pay, medical, and leave. Do you understand the conditions of your release and the reason for your conviction?”
“Do you understand that I shouldn’t be responsible for Robbie coming into the Hub as a minor since he has never revealed to me what he is or his legal status? All I knew was that he was non-human. Who would be responsible for me if when I came into the Hub to get typed it had turned out that I was a minor?”
“Deejay would have been. We have an annex for species testing minors,”
she replies levelly. “Do I need to repeat the question?”
“Yes, I fucking understand,”
I spit at her. “In eight hours, I am going to become your fucking Headsman. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
Loretta cocks her head at me. “I am always prepared, Reaper. Win the match and win your conditional freedom. I will even let Deejay go if you do. I understand that your babies were taken by Erroll of Morgaine. Win the match and you can go get them back. Do you understand me? If you defeat Loki, you will get your lover, your babies, and your life back.”
“I will defeat him,”
I swear. Loki fulfilled his end of the oath. He brought Deejay straight to me. There’s nothing binding him to try to save my life now. I’m going to have to win against him.
Loretta gives me a sly smile. “Good.”
She and her entourage leave then. When I’m fairly certain they are gone, Deejay moves to straddle my lap, pulling me into a tight hug. I bury my face into his neck, shuddering with fear and anticipation, and worry. “Promise me, Deejay, promise me that if I don’t win, if I die, you’re going to get our babies back. We didn’t start this shit, but we sure as hell are going to end it. Get our babies back and end them all.”
Deejay tightens his grip on me, and I can feel him nod his affirmative while muttering something that sounds suspiciously like his motto: don’t hit first, but always hit last.
“That’s fucking right.”
After that, I have nothing to say and Deejay can’t say anything at all. We wait together, holding each other in turns until the eight hours passes in both an eternity of waiting and the blink of an eye. Four guards open our cell looking at me with no small amount of respectful fear. Deejay pushes to his feet and I follow him up. I kiss the corners of his gagged mouth, then his cheek and look him in the eye. “Remember.”
He nods looking up at me with fiery fury.
“You’ll have to leave your clothes. Convicts go into the Cage nude,”
one of the guards lets me know.
I snort. “I only made the mistake of wearing clothes into that cage once.”
I rip open the school uniform shirt, not bothering to save the buttons and toss it onto the bed. When I win, there’s no chance that I’ll be continuing school, so there’s no point in saving the uniform. I flick open my slacks, kicking off my shoes, and push my pants down, taking my underwear, and socks off with them. Once I’m nude, I turn to the guard. “Anything else?”
“Nothing,”
he replies, maintaining his respectful tone.
“Let’s go then,”
I say, moving to the door.
The guards surround me as they escort me to the arena. It’s packed, even more so than usual. Every seat in the stands is occupied and the arena floor is crowded as well with only a path wide enough for my escort open and leading straight to the Cage. I don’t see hatred or animosity in the faces around me, mostly the spectators watch with excitement. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this bloodthirsty lot; there’s a reason executions are done via fight to the death: non-humans have a streak of violence in them a mile wide. Even me. I brought this on myself by getting involved in the cage fights to begin with.
I enter the Cage under my own power, head held high. Loki stands in his usual spot, skin glowing, aura sparkling and pure carmine again.
The announcer quiets the crowd as my crime is announced. “Matthew Donovan Blank D’Aquino is convicted of bringing a minor into the Hub, endangerment of a minor, and corruption of a minor, the penalty for which convictions is death.”
The gong sounds like a death knell, but I have no intention of dying in this cage. For a second both Loki and I stand there staring at each other and then he moves. I’ve seen him fight three times, which isn’t enough to know much about his abilities, but I do know he doesn’t waste movement, which means I will have a difficult time wearing him down. He maintains his points of contact as he comes at me. I block every hit he throws at me, pushing back instead of retreating. I don’t know if he’s seen me fight, but the likelihood is that he’s only seen me win on the defense, so I push for the offense, knowing my advantage lies in the unknown.
His reflexes and skills test mine and I end up taking a hit on the chin to avoid a throat punch, but it gives me an opportunity because he tries to press an advantage he didn’t earn with that hit. I get a solid punch into his gut and then it’s my turn to push him around the Cage. He blocks and dodges blow after blow, which expends a lot of my energy, but I finally find his weakness. I don’t think I would have seen it under normal circumstances. He fights like me, willing to sacrifice something to gain the win. I do the same thing. If I can win without something, like the use of my arm, I will sacrifice it. I know this is my weakness, which is why I don’t take every opportunity presented in case it’s a ploy by my opponent. I wonder if he’s figured out this is also his weakness?
I drop my guard for a brief second, projecting my next move. Loki does exactly what I expect, waiting until I’m committed before offering a sacrifice to gain the advantage. He expects to take a hit to the chin to get a knee into my gut. Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly what I wanted him to do. I open my fist, grabbing his neck at the same time, hooking my other hand under his knee and taking him off his feet. He tries to swing his body with the momentum of the sudden change, but I know exactly what he intends and use the swing to turn him and slam him face first into the floor. He fights for his freedom, as I yank his arms behind his back pinning him.
But this is a fight to the death. Pinning Loki to the mat isn’t good enough for a win.
I pull my fist back and punch him in the head three times until he goes limp. I check his pulse, which is strong, then stand up, pulling him up by the hair. The arena is dead silent, staring at me holding the Headsman by the hair, unconscious and completely in my power. I raise my voice so that everyone can hear my pronouncement. “This is my win! I am your Headsman now and this man has not earned a death sentence. Get him out of my Cage!”
I drag him to the door of the Cage and toss him to the guard that opens it. I walk to take up Loki’s usual position and look up at the skybox. “Who’s next?”
I boom up at Loretta.
And the spectators go fucking crazy.