Chapter 15 #4
Before it’s time to get out again, a messenger comes with a note. Master Trainer reads it with a frown, then looks up with a grim expression. “The next game is without armor. No shirts and no shoes.”
It takes me a moment to realize what it means. Earlier, I was just another Raider fighting, but now the crowd will see my lack of tattoos. Best case scenario, they’ll assume I’m a captive civilian, but with how shitty my luck has been recently, I don’t count on that.
We walk onto the arena without our armor, my bare feet stepping on warm sand while cold air strokes my damp skin. We’re to fight against House Fernandez, now down to five fighters versus our six, though theirs seem to have fared better in their latest game.
We face each other on both sides of the arena, waiting for Hector to kick off the game. The seconds pass, and I become aware of the shifting mood in the arena as murmurs replace the crowd’s cheers. My back itches from their stares.
“For the final game, we have a couple of surprises,” Hector says over the loudspeakers. “The first one, as you can see, is a good old skin-on-skin action. I’m even willing to look the other way if some of our contestants don’t make it out alive.”
The crowd cheers wildly while the fighters beside me exchange looks of confusion and fear. Something tells me this change of rules is not common, and I once more wonder if Hector brought me all this way just to kill me in this arena. It doesn’t make sense, but what does?
“Now, for the second surprise…” I can practically feel the glee in Hector’s voice, and it tightens my stomach. “Take a step forward and wave to the crowd… Defender!”
I can hear nothing but my own rapid heartbeat, as if the whole arena is holding its breath.
Someone nudges me forward. I force my legs to move and take a shaky step.
My hand weighs a ton when I raise it to wave to the crowd.
Thousands of people reply with an outburst of boos, loud enough to vibrate through my bones.
I can pretend all I want that I’m not affected, but the humiliation cuts deep.
Hector calls, “Begin!” and I can once more focus on surviving.
We stand as a group, yet I feel painfully alone in this. By the way the other team members glare at me, it’s not hard to guess who their main target is going to be.
I can’t let them make the first move.
Before I can second-guess myself, I break into a run, straight toward the rival team. They watch me in confusion, likely sensing a trap. I almost reach them when I take a sharp turn to the right, my body’s on fire and every bruise pulsing.
Despite their wariness, it’s hard to pass up a chance to reduce the numbers of your rival team, especially when a Defender’s neck is on the line.
Like I hoped, some of them start to chase me.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the rest of my team closing the distance, not willing to be one man short so early in the game.
When the two behind me realize they’re not going to catch me on time, they stop their pursuit.
Expecting that, I sharply turn around and become the chaser.
I reach the slower one and tackle him to the ground.
Without armor, it’s painfully easy to kill him, but I can’t bring myself to do so for the enjoyment of Raiders.
I smash the bottom of my stick against his temple, and he passes out immediately.
The rest of my team is now clashing with the remaining four fighters of House Fernandez.
Nobody’s holding back now that all restrictions are off the table.
Blood splashes freely, soaking into the sand.
Before I can join the chaos, I’m stunned to see a rival team member shoving his fingers into the eye sockets of one of my teammates, popping his eyes like grapes.
His screams are chilling, yet the crowd’s roars of excitement are worse.
I reach the fucker and smash my stick against the back of his head.
His skull smashes, bone fragments flying everywhere.
I stare at the pieces of bone and brain lying on the sand.
There is no way in hell that I hit him that hard—that I can even hit anybody that hard.
Before I can grasp what just happened, I’m tackled violently from the side, landing on the ground hard enough for my spine to scream.
In a heartbeat, my attacker sits on top of me, smashing his fists down on my head.
Stars explode in front of my eyes, but I don’t allow myself to pass out.
Before my attacker can land another blow, I shove him off of me.
He flies through the air and lands on his back, about thirty feet from me.
A cry of awe passes through the crowd, and I can understand why. I’m positive that whatever Elijah injected me with wasn’t just painkillers. I don’t know if he went against the rules, nor do I care at the moment.
I stand up to see my remaining teammates overpowering the last of our opponents. Four of us are still alive, but one of us is blind, so I doubt he considers this a win.
The crowd cheers, no longer booing the dirty Defender now that I’ve given them a gory show.
I try to let go of the adrenaline that still rushes through my veins and makes me feel as though I could keep fighting for hours.
Back in the locker room, Master Trainer congratulates us while watching me with suspicion.
He should take it up with his boss since I didn’t choose to inject myself with this power.
I take a shower and wash the blood and sweat from my skin, then sit through more examinations by a medic. My face is a lump of bruises, but nothing is broken, and the pain is more bearable than it should be considering all the beating I received today.
It’s almost nighttime when we step outside, escorted by House Powell’s armed guards. I walk toward the car I arrived here with, but Elijah signals me to get into his private car. When I do, I’m surprised to see him sliding into the back seat next to me.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks as we begin to drive.
“What?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“It was whatever the hell you injected me with.”
He narrows his eyes. “I gave you painkillers.”
“And something else, obviously.”
He shakes his head. “Just painkillers. Strong ones, but nothing I haven’t given others before, and nobody got superpowers.”
I don’t have more than a few seconds to ponder what it means when we abruptly stop. Elijah glances out the window, then opens the door and climbs outside to speak with a group of armed men blocking the road. He returns shortly after and signals me to get out. “Go with these men.”
“Where are they taking me?”
He snorts. “Like you don’t know.”
I let out a nervous breath. It’s time to meet Hector.
*
“How do you like the view?”
“I expected more, honestly.” Most of the city is made up of plain streets with one-story houses, and just the central area includes skyscrapers and wider roads. Yet I can’t deny how massive the city is, much bigger than what I imagined.
Hector hands me a glass of wine as we stand at the top of the tallest skyscraper in Denver, in his private apartment. “Right now, people across the city are sharing stories about the Defender who put on a remarkable show in the arena.”
I take a sip of wine to calm my nerves. “But it wasn’t me fighting, was it?”
Hector stands so close to me, I would have considered attacking him if I thought I might succeed. “It was you fighting, Caden, but with my small help.”
I figured as much when Elijah insisted he had nothing to do with it, but I’m still deeply unsettled by what it means. If Hector can make me stronger, can he just as easily make me weaker?
“What did you do to me?” I ask.
“I gave you a gift.”
“Your blood?”
“A touch of my genes.”
“I’d like to return the gift.”
He laughs. “You haven’t even begun to experience its full potential, my dear.”
“You’re too young to call anyone my dear.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“You made the king of High Hope betray us.”
He sighs. “Yes, and now he’s dead, which is rather inconvenient.”
“He’s dead?”
“Oh, yes. Quite gruesomely, I've heard.”
I hope it means that Finn is okay.
Hector moves to face me. “Should we do something about your bruises?”
I don’t like how he asks that. “I can handle them.”
In a flash, each bruise becomes noticeably more painful. I shout and lean against the glass wall, sweat breaking across my skin.
“This is your true pain, Caden, without my gift to numb it. Do you like it? Can you handle it?”
I wish to be stronger, and maybe I could have been if I had more time to get used to this pain, but it’s too sudden and overwhelming. “Make it stop.”
As suddenly as it appeared, the pain fades like an old memory.
I take deep breaths to slow down my rapid heartbeat.
Hector holds my hand and leads me to a long dining table.
Most of the furniture in the large apartment is either black or white.
I notice there isn’t anything here that seems personal, making it hard to learn anything about the man who lives here, but maybe that’s intentional.
I sit at the table, facing my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
Hector stands behind me and pulls off my shirt, not asking for permission. I gag at the sight of my torso. Back in the Hive, I would have been forced to stay in the hospital.
“Relax.” He rests his hands on my shoulders, his skin cold and soft. He watches me through the mirror. “Can I make you better now?”
I don’t want anything from him, but knowing how easily he can make the pain reappear, there is only one answer. “Yes.”
Through the mirror, I see his dark and pointy tail rising, confirming he can make it grow at will. The pointy tip sways toward me as I hold my breath and try to keep the fear from my face. It presses against my chest, not yet causing pain.
“Ask me,” Hector says, his hands still on my shoulders. “Ask for my gift.”
“Are we pretending I have a choice?”
“There is always a choice. You can ask me to let you jump out the window. Would you like that?”
“No.”
“Then ask for my gift.”
I can’t help but feel that this simple request is monumental, but he’s right—I am making a choice to play his game instead of giving up. I take a breath and say, “Please give me your gi—”
He cuts me with his tail, fast enough to make me question whether I imagined it. Blood begins to flow down my chest and stomach. I watch it happening through the mirror, my head spinning.
Hector leans down and whispers, “Breathe.”
It’s a ridiculous thing to say while fresh blood is still dripping down my torso, but I do as he says.
“Watch.”
My fear morphs into bewilderment as my bruises and cuts begin to fade, soaking into my skin as if they never existed.
Hector pats my shoulders. “See? All better.”
Maybe he’s expecting a thank you, but all I manage is a faint, “Fuck.”
He chuckles and goes to make me another glass of wine. I keep watching my reflection while running my fingers over my chest. The cut is gone, but I’m still covered in blood that is drying on my skin and soaking into my pants. “I need a shower.”
“Soon.” He hands me the glass, and I take a long sip.
“Can you tell me how you just made that happen?”
He sits next to me. “I’ve already told you enough. Don’t be greedy.”
He told me almost nothing, but I don’t push. “Do your lizard men live around here?”
“In this apartment? Clearly not. Can you imagine the mess? But they are in this city, far from prying eyes.”
“How did you get them?”
“I wished upon a star.”
Another topic he’s not going to elaborate on, so I ask instead the most important question. “Why am I here, Hector? You’ve gone through too much trouble just to get a Defender into Denver.”
“Why do you think you’re here?”
“Information?”
“About?”
“Unity.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Oh please. I could have asked you about that a couple of weeks ago.”
“Then why?”
“Would you be upset if I said that all will be revealed in due time?”
“I would be, yeah. Why the hell did you bring me all this way and put me in a fucking auction?” I should handle my temper better, but his presence makes me feel like a raw nerve.
“You can only join the games as part of a house, and you can only join a house either by being bought or by selling yourself for a limited time.”
“Why did you want me to fight in the arena?”
He winks. “Every great tale must start somewhere.”
But my tale is not being written by me, nor do I approve of this messed-up plot.
“You’re scared.” Hector places a cold palm over my heart. “Despite everything, I’m not your enemy.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. I was kidnapped by your men. They killed a friend of mine and hurt another.”
“Would you like them dead?”
I watch his face closely, but he seems serious. I remember the look in Trey’s eyes before he died on his knees like a dog. If I had only stepped out of the palace by myself when I heard that voice in my head, he would not have died like that. “Yeah, I want them dead.”
“Noted. Now, are you feeling dizzy yet?”
I frown at his odd question, but he’s right; I do feel dizzy. I glance at the empty glass of wine, my anxiety rising. “Why did you drug me?”
Instead of answering, he stands up and pulls me to my feet. I’m losing control over my body fast, feeling disconnected from my own flesh. He maneuvers me until I’m lying with my stomach on the cold table, my head leaning down from the edge. The floor shifts like a river beneath me.
“Why?” I manage to ask again, barely able to utter the word.
He strokes my bare back. “Today, the city witnessed a Defender fighting like a demon. Next time, that Defender will be a Raider, and your tale will have another chapter written.”
Through the fogginess, I realize what he’s about to do. I try to move, but my body is no longer my own. I use all my remaining strength to croak out the word, “No.”
Hector walks away and returns a minute later, placing what sounds like a bag on the table next to me. He turns up the light above and makes the room much brighter, though I can still only see the shifting floor.
“This will hurt,” he says. “I can take away the pain, but I would like for you to feel every second of this important event.”
When he begins to tattoo my back, the pain is staggering, piercing through me like sharp nails. I shut my eyes, my moans mixing with the buzzing of the electronic needle.
As I slowly lose myself to the unrelenting pain, a dark realization hits me like a blow.
He’s tattooing scales all over my back.