Chapter 17 #3
I glare at him. “If you want me strong, then let me be strong. I can’t have my ass kicked every day at training, and then act completely differently in the arena.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t help you at such a distance, at least not at the moment.”
“What does that mean?”
“Our bond isn’t strong enough yet, but it can be.”
I sense a trap, so I keep quiet. He watches me in amusement as I eat the chicken and the creamy mashed potatoes. The fucker knows how to cook.
“Caden… don’t you want to be stronger during your training?”
I put down my fork. “I’m not interested in paying that price.”
He narrows his eyes. “What price is that? Strengthening our bond?”
“I’ve never asked for this bond, so why the hell would I want to strengthen it?”
“Keep your voice down when you’re in my house.”
A sharp pain hits behind my eyes, blurring my vision. The ease with which he can do that is terrifying. “Sorry.”
“You can’t escape what you and I have; it is already a part of you. Even when you don’t feel me, I’m there. Can a lamb surrounded by wolves be picky about being helped?”
“I’m no lamb.”
“You’re a pile of bruises that is going to toss and turn all night in pain, and that pain is only going to increase with each passing day. You are the helpless lamb, and I am the shepherd who can lead you to safety.”
I was never a fan of shitty allegories, but I get the gist of it. I also know that whether or not we’ll strengthen our bond is not my decision to make, like it hasn’t been before. At this point, I’m almost as scared of his gift as I am of facing another day of training without it.
I exhale. “Okay.”
“What’s that?”
“I said okay. Be… the shepherd.”
He watches me closely, his face blank but his eyes sparking. He rises to his feet and tells me to follow him. In front of the glass wall overlooking the city, he carefully pulls off my shirt. “Oh my. The wolves are tearing you apart, aren’t they?”
I don’t respond, because the answer is written all over my skin. I’m caught off guard when he pulls me into a hug. “You are no lamb, my dear. Not anymore.”
I’m exhausted, body and soul, disgusted by how safe I feel in the arms of this monster. Against my common sense, I hug him back.
“That’s it.” He rubs my back, his fingers stroking the ink he forced into my flesh. “I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t think you could survive this. No, not survive—triumph.”
“I’m not triumphing.”
He breaks the hug and holds my face. “But you will.”
I don’t even flinch when I see his tail swaying next to his head. It undulates toward me like a snake.
“Hold it.”
His tail feels like leather, hard and strong. The pointy tip is sharp like a claw.
“I will now make the rest of the painkiller fade from your body,” he says. “It might tingle.”
It feels as though a curtain is violently lifting from my senses, allowing everything to pass through unfiltered. I gasp in pain, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance.
“Go on,” he says.
“Can’t you do it?”
“So you can pretend it wasn’t your choice? No.”
I take a deep breath and hold his tail tightly, then cut the right side of my chest. It burns like hell. Warm blood flows down within seconds. I wait for the pain to pass like it did last time, but it doesn’t.
“Why doesn’t it work?”
“Did I say you should stop?”
I grunt and cut myself again, this time above my heart, but there’s still no remedy.
I cut my arm, then my stomach. Blood flows, forming a puddle around my feet.
I can barely stand, my heart pulsing in my ears and my head spinning like I drank too much wine.
I’m about to stumble when a sudden wave of bliss engulfs me, carrying the pain away until I’m floating peacefully.
I don’t care how fucked up this whole thing is.
Right now, it’s worth every cut and drop of blood.
I let go of Hector’s tail and sway on my feet, gravity playing tricks on me. Strong arms lead me down to lie on the couch, even though I’m staining it with blood.
“Look at me,” Hector says softly. “Open your eyes and look at me, my champion.”
My champion.
His face is blurry, but his eyes shine brightly with a yellowish glow. I should be scared, but my body is more alive than it has ever been. I feel the blood flowing in my veins and the steady draw of oxygen into my lungs.
“Don’t you already have a champion?” I ask.
“I do, so you will have to take his place.”
“Who is he?”
“A remnant of a failed experiment.”
“Your experiment?”
“Oh no. I definitely can’t take credit for that creation. An old AI called Father was behind that experiment.”
My heart beats faster as I realize what this means. “Your champion is a New-Human?”
“Indeed. Likely the very last one. I see you’ve heard of them.”
Heard of them? I have witnessed brave fighters, not to mention Semi-Humans, brutally killed by a single one of them. “There is no way you want me to defeat a New-Human.”
“Both you and I want that, or your existence might become useless to me.”
His threat is loud and clear. I don’t see a point in arguing about that now, but I do know that no matter how many times Hector cuts me with his tail, I will still be no match for a New-Human.
“How is the lamb feeling now?”
I shake my head. “I’m no lamb.”
“Then what are you?”
I honestly don’t know anymore, but that’s not what he wants to hear. I let the words slip out of my mouth, committing to something I’m bound to regret. “I’m your champion.”
*
It’s late when the car drops me back by the gate of House Powell. It’s quiet and peaceful so far from the city center, yet it feels like I can hear more than usual. The crickets, even the distant ones, sound close, as well as the leaves rustling in the breeze.
The guards by the gate let me in, telling me to go straight to my quarters.
I walk where the road is dark, seeing just fine.
When I’m about to reach my quarters, I stop at the sound of laughter.
It’s coming from a group of level two fighters.
They smoke underneath one of the lamps, which they are allowed to do as long as it’s after training hours.
When they notice me watching, one of them drops his cigarette and marches toward me.
He’s the one who knocked me down today more times than I care to remember.
It seems like he wants to have another go by the look in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, stopping close enough to breathe his cigarette in my face.
“Not that I mind kicking your ass, but you’re too weak to handle this.
” He flashes a smile. “I’m sure there are whorehouses that would be happy to take you in.
You seem like the kind of bitch who can spread wide. ”
The rest of his friends come over, almost surrounding me. There are five of them, and I wonder if they were waiting for my return.
“They told us you’d be fighting with us in the next round of games,” cigarette breath says. “It will be best that you break something before you can embarrass us.”
They move closer from all directions like hunting wolves, but I’m done being the lamb. I grab cigarette breath, and with one swift movement, hurl him across the training yard. He hits the ground hard, and I catch the sound of an arm snapping.
The rest take a step back, not dumb enough to try their luck.
“See you tomorrow at training,” I say, then go catch some sleep.