Chapter 14 Secret Fighting Ring
fourteen
Secret Fighting Ring
Two nights come and go much faster than I expect as I fall into a schedule.
Nai Nai and I spend our mornings creating warded containers for the ingredients she’ll need to make treats.
We add heavy protections on the jars for sweets, and I wrinkle my nose as I fantasize about rubbing our diligence in Rhazan’s face.
In the afternoons she experiments with baking on the theme I’ve picked, and I organize all the equipment and tools in the front of house. Hope takes root in my gut. We’re not just going to be surviving. This business is a way for us to start something real of our own, and it excites me.
The night I’m supposed to meet Rhazan, that excitement builds to a heady buzz that keeps me awake. I’m lying on my side, waiting for sleep that won’t come. I need to pass out so I can get to his realm.
Nerves fire through my fingers and toes, making me wiggle my feet to disperse the energy.
I did sets to use up what energy I had left after dinner, but it apparently wasn’t enough.
My heart had been pounding, sweat pouring, but it felt like there was energy blocked from escaping me.
Even still, my breathing technique hasn’t worked.
I flip my phone over and check the time. One in the morning. Shit.
The brand on my wrist glows faintly, then thrums like a heartbeat. His heartbeat.
Ace and Nai Nai are definitely asleep, so summoning him here should be safe. Not like Nai Nai would lose her shit if she saw him, but Ace…he’s only sort of aware that all this occult stuff is real. It would be an interesting night, for certain.
My fingers linger over the mark and it thrums again. Harder. My body shivers. Not from the inside though. From the outside, like something is vibrating against me.
I scowl at the mark and press my thumb against it. The air around me collapses in a puff of smoke and I land on a bed of many blankets and pillows that smell of him. I sit up fast, gasping as I look around. It’s Rhazan’s office bedroom.
And he’s nowhere in sight.
Am I actually here, or did I fast-track myself to sleep and astral project directly into the space?
I pinch myself, feeling it all the way up my arm.
I’m dressed in my nightshirt and shorts, so I guess maybe it’s really me here, but my body felt real enough last time, and it looked the same, too.
There’s no way to really know. I’ll just have to be more cautious.
I get off the cot and look around. A low fire crackles behind his work desk and an oversized, very comfortable-looking chaise sits next to it. The library stretches half the length of the back wall, but I don’t recognize any of the books—or any of the languages they’re written in, for that matter.
A shout buffets the door from down the hall.
I creep toward it and open it a crack, looking toward the bar.
Creatures are spilling out of a room, shoving and jumping to get in closer.
Their animalistic cheering sends a thrill through me.
It reminds me of the no-holds-barred fights we would host at the wuguan for Zhao Shang.
They were both horrifying and electrifying.
I leave the room behind, following my instincts to get a better look at the action.
There’s a heavy smack of skin on sweaty—or bloody—skin.
The crowd roars and I move closer. One of the interdimensional beings sees me coming and grimaces.
They tap the man next to them and they both stare at me, taking a step back.
I push my way into the crowd and through the door.
Everyone is taller than me, but I elbow and squeeze my way around the jostling bodies until I reach the front.
There Rhazan stands—stoops, rather—panting and glowing bright. His wings are absent save for two long, glowing gold scars on his back. A trickle of gold slides down his arm and drips onto the floor.
His opponent looks much like him but is a blue-gray with swirling teal marks on his arms and chest. He has silvery hair that’s been pulled back into a failing bun, and wispy strands frame his handsome face.
They move in a half circle, and I catch sight of something absolutely bonkers on the other side of the ring.
A woman with curly brown hair and a duck in her arms. No…
a rubber duck. She shouts something I can’t hear over the rabble around me, but then meets my gaze.
She smiles and waves. I glance behind me, but there’s no one except more of these beastly demons.
Rhazan turns his head and his eyes narrow when he catches sight of me. He’s about to say something when the blue demon surges forward, cracking his jaw with a powerful hit. I gasp at the sucker punch and take a step forward.
“Back,” Rhazan orders and I stop halfway, reaching for him.
The blue demon grins. “Getting distracted, brother? That’s not like you!”
The curly-haired woman waves me forward, and I skirt the circle around the men until I reach her. She sticks her hand out for a shake and I’m too baffled not to accept it.
“Sylvia,” she shouts, then bumps the duck in her arm. “This is Charlie.”
The duck flaps its little rubbery wings and makes a wheezing quack.
“Jade,” I murmur, turning my attention back to Rhazan. “What is this?”
Sylvia leans in. “The coolest fight I’ve ever seen!”
“But why?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Apollo told me we had to come, that his brother needed him. So here we are. We’ve only been here about an hour.”
“They’re brothers? Actual brothers?”
That would make sense given their size, shape, and general likeness in their features, but…they’re different colors.
“Well, in the way that all of God’s angels were brothers,” she says.
The blue demon—Apollo, I assume—jukes around Rhazan’s heavy fist and plants another strike to his ribs. Rhazan pulls his fist back and elbows Apollo in the shoulder. He staggers and leaps out of the way of another strike. They dance around the room, Rhazan on the offensive.
“So, you come here often?” Sylvia asks.
I shake my head. “Second time. I came to help him ward the bar against the skreet.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her everything. Maybe because she’s the only other human here.
“You’re a witch too!” a quacky voice says in my head.
I scowl at the duck. “Was that him?”
Sylvia hoots for Apollo, then looks back at me. “Yeah, he’s got telepathy.”
A rubber duck with telepathy. Okay. One hundred percent the weirdest thing I’ve ever encountered.
“You’ll get used to it,” Charlie chimes in again.
“The skreet,” Sylvia says. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re interdimensional cockroaches,” I say, watching Rhazan.
His form is pure brute force. Every movement is heavy and devastating. I catalogue how he fights, and whether I could put up in a scrap with him. I almost want to find out.
“You own the shop on the other side of the portal here?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, just getting set up. The Cosmic Café.”
She snorts. “Good name, given the real estate. Come on!”
Apollo dips under another strike, his fist screaming up toward Rhazan’s gut.
Rhazan catches Apollo’s wrist just before impact and pulls him as he twists.
The demon stumbles, and Rhazan kicks his feet out from under him.
Apollo lands in a heap on the glassy floor with a whoomph that sounds like all the air escaping him.
Rhazan puts his knee in his back and steam sizzles from the spot.
“Ack, I yield!” Apollo screams.
Rhazan pulls back and grins like the Cheshire Cat. He reaches out for Apollo, who takes his offer to get up. Bets exchange hands all around the room, some in coin, some in a bright digital currency that looks something like my astral power.
Rhazan and Apollo approach us, the latter scooping Sylvia into his arms for a deep, seductive kiss. I avert my gaze, watching Rhaz instead, how all his corded muscles flex and bulge as he moves. He comes within inches of me and drops his voice low.
“You’re late.”
I cross my arms. “Wanna fight about it?”
He hums in a deliciously low timbre. “Maybe.”
That one word puts me on a sharp edge. I think I want to fight about it, too.
“Twenty whatever currency says I can make you tap out in two minutes,” I say.
The fire in his chest burns brighter. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” I say smartly as I move past him into the ring.
I pull off my shirt, grateful I’d worn a sports bra to bed. Rhazan’s burning gaze focuses on my chest before moving the length of my body. Smoke curls from his nostrils.
“You chicken?” I ask.
The room goes quiet.
He snorts, forcing all that heat out in a big puff like a bull facing down a red flag. Maybe I am a red flag if I want to fight him, but shit, wouldn’t it be cool to say I’ve fought an actual demon, fist to fist?
He stalks into the ring, slinking like a feral cat. His demeanor has changed entirely from the fight with his brother, and his moves, I assume, will too. He was all heavy brawler, like a bear. Slower and big strikes. But now, I don’t know what’s coming for me.
Maybe I’ve made a mistake.
Too late to turn back now.