Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Rely on your beast; they’re all you have.
RIVEN
He knows nothing.
Spewing poison—typical for a basilisk—with no basis in reality.
Cut, dried, and neatly packaged: Luca believes the veydran are the bad guys in his story.
If only it were that simple.
His attack struck bone. Denying it is pointless; my inability to hide my reaction is the real problem. I retreat to my rooms to lick my wounds.
They watched me unravel, their penetrating stares following me long after I left. They want to sort me into a box they can understand.
The shame was heavy and impossible to shrug off. It pressed down on me until I felt like I might sink through the floor.
But I’m more imprisoned by this realm than they’ll ever be.
I sit at my desk and pull the binder of inmates from its locked drawer. The vein in the back of my hand pulses angrily beneath the amber binding. Even my blood is trapped.
I’ll never be free.
I hurl the binder at the wall. It hits with a smack and drops to the floor. Full of monsters big and small, there are more teeth and toxins within the pages of that book than there are trees in the forest. And the veydran rule them all. I laugh out loud and retrieve the binder.
No good comes from dwelling. I need to pick her next opponent. One that will create a spectacle, earn a lot of money for the arena, and end with a loss for Celine. She’s well-rested, well-fucked, and I promised results. It’s time to rip the floor out from under her.
The angel or the vampire must die.
A popping sound comes from the corner of my room, a portal I certainly didn’t authorize.
I stiffen and return the binder to the drawer as bitterness threatens to choke me.
No privacy.
I’m given nothing of my own.
S’lach steps through the small portal, curling his lip as he takes in my simple living space. “How’s my little girl?”
“Alive.” I drum my fingers against the desk. I won’t stand for him. Not today, at least. I don’t care if it’s rude. He invaded my space without warning or invitation.
“So I’ve heard.” His words are laced with threats, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes as he blusters. “And those leeches that hang on to her also remain alive. Care to explain that?”
“You paid me to break her, then kill her,” I remind him. “How I do that is up to me.”
“Wrong,” he growls. “I paid you to do what I say. I want her whores dead, and I want them dead now.”
I raise my eyebrows and do my best to hide my anger. “She fights ferociously to protect them. I’ve pitted her against some of the worst beasts the monster realm has to offer, and she’s come out on top both times.”
S’lach scoffs. “Of course she won.” His eyes glint with cruelty. “She works best alone.”
“The odds of her winning the next fight—”
“Your odds are irrelevant,” S’lach speaks over me as if I never opened my mouth. “Make her fight alongside them. She’ll be distracted, desperate to protect them—it’s her fatal flaw. They’ll die, and she will break.”
I force myself to nod.
S’lach tilts his head, studying every inch of my face.
“I’ve always been curious; the others of your kind never show”—he waves his hand—“that. They choose a face to steal and make their own.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek and use the pain to ground myself.
He’s close to striking the nerve exposed by Luca’s fury.
“I don’t fear what I am,” I say. “Nor do I concern myself with the comfort of others.”
And I’d rather die than give S’lach a glimpse of my pain. He’s not paying me enough to know my secrets. I’m an assassin for hire, not an experiment for him to dissect to satiate his sadistic curiosity.
S’lach strokes the red stubble on his chin and laughs. “An admirable trait, and a smart intimidation factor too. Imagine yours being the last face you see.” He shudders theatrically. “Truly horrifying.”
I nod slowly, my molars grinding to dust in my mouth. “Anything else?”
His cold eyes rake over me before he shakes his head. “No more disappointments, shuck. You signed a contract, and employees who fail me don’t live to regret it.”
The walk to the arena is quiet and thick with tension.
Snow falls around us, softer than the usual pellets.
It coats Celine’s eyelashes as she stares over the bridge railings at the stark black-and-white landscape.
Lips pressed into a thin line, with her hair braided tightly to her scalp, she looks untouchable.
I open my mouth, then close it. What am I thinking?
I can’t warn her about the fight. Not only would that be working against my own interests, but it would almost certainly trigger the magic embedded in my contract with her father.
Broken contracts can’t kill. Angry angels can.
And double-crossing S’lach would be signing my own death sentence.
Gods. I need this job to end.
She’s destabilized me. Perhaps I can’t blame her for it, but I also can’t allow it to continue. No more wrapping her in my cloak. No more watching her when she’s not looking. My fascination with her must end.
I’m impressed by her resilience and intrigued by her strength—that’s all. It’s got to be.
Luca’s eyes dig into my back, his hatred so concentrated that it takes on physical weight. If I didn’t have a magical dampener locked around my ankle, I’m sure he’d do his best to turn me into a permanent bridge ornament.
I ignore him and keep walking.
By the time we’re inside the holding room, the silence has grown teeth.
“Tell me something, Riven,” Ciprian says.
He chafes his hands against his upper arms, and his breath crystallizes in the frigid air.
“You make a killing—pardon my pun—off these games, but the facilities are shit. If you don’t mind pointing me to the suggestion box, I’d love to introduce you to a cool invention called central heat and air. ”
Celine’s lips twitch, softening her grim expression. She grabs his hand, and he brings her knuckles to his lips. “I dreamed of you last night, hot wings.”
“Oh?” she purrs. “What was I doing?”
“Dancing. At the Fang, like that time you put on a show for me and Alistair.”
Celine rolls her eyes. “You mean when you two had a dick-measuring contest while I happened to be on stage?”
He gasps. “He was the one who happened to be there. As far as I’m concerned, you were dancing for me alone.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself . . .”
“Most perfect tits in the universe,” Luca mutters, running his fingers through his hair. “Do you feel good, Celine? You did the stretches, nothing is tight?”
When she glances at him, her brown eyes are soft but focused. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks. There’s no one you can’t beat if you stay calm and play to your strengths.”
Her eyebrows pull together in the middle. “Don’t worry. I won’t put Ali or Malach in danger.”
“I know, baby.” Luca cups her face with both hands and kisses her as if it might be the last time he gets a chance. If S’lach gets his way, it will be.
Ciprian squeezes in close to them, kissing her cheeks, her nose, and her eyelids until she giggles. I should put a stop to it, but I can’t seem to open my mouth.
“No mercy,” he says. “Show them who they’re messing with.”
Celine nods, then glances at me. “Any riddles or tips this time around?” For a second, there was no judgment in her eyes. She looked at me like . . . Gods, I must stop this. I’m imagining things. Celine hates me as much as Luca does.
“Not today, darling,” I say briskly, hardening my resolve and holding eye contact with her. “The profits will be better if you die.”
Her eyes—open and warm before I spoke—turn hard as stone, and she cracks her knuckles. “Always following the money,” she scoffs. “How could I forget? It’s not personal; it’s business, right?”
I nod briskly. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I don’t,” she says. “And I doubt I ever will. If you see my father, tell him that I’m coming for him. Once I get out of here, he’ll pay for his sins in blood.”
The eyes and hair, even the fierce confidence they wear as a second skin. Celine and S’lach have many similarities and one major difference. He’s cold as ice, and she’s an open flame.
If she gets out of here alive, S’lach might burn.
If it wouldn’t get me killed, I’d love to watch.
It only takes a few minutes to get everyone in place for the fight. Celine is endlessly compliant when I hold the lives of the vampire and the angel over her head.
Bets are placed, and the odds flicker across the ticker. The energy of the crowd is electric. They want blood. Her blood. She’s been the underdog every time she’s stepped onto the sand, but they don’t respect her for it. If anything, they want to see her fall even more.
Celine might die today.
It’s my preferred outcome.
I laugh bitterly. Perhaps if I keep lying to myself, I’ll eventually believe it. Ignoring the churning in my gut, I flip the switch to amplify my voice.
“As you place your bets today, keep in mind the game could change at any time.” I pause for dramatic effect. “We pride ourselves on true entertainment here in the Howling Pit, and that lies in the unexpected.”
Celine studies me impassively, as if we’re the only two people in this arena. Her face gives nothing away, but there’s hatred in her eyes. For me. For the situation I’ve put her in.
I’m glad it’s back. She should hate me.
“Our champion isn’t from around here,” I say, feigning a camaraderie with the blood tourists that I’ve never felt. “Let’s see how an angel holds up against the monster realm’s finest!”
Gasps and cheers. Oohs and ahhs. I tune them all out and give the signal, my heart beating dully against my ribs.
Spherical cages shoot up from pillars spaced around the arena. Per my order, there are qnoksu monsters inside each one. Searching, always searching, they rattle the bars of their cages, eyes bulging, tongues lolling as they taste the emotions of the crowd.