Outbreak

by Annabel Chase

  He gave me an approving nod. “Good luck. I wish you an honorable death.”

  “Same to you.”

  Bells chimed and that was our signal to get started. I usually liked an audience, but, in this case, I felt uncomfortable with every aspect of the match. I didn’t want to hurt Galbraith. Then again, I didn’t want him to hurt me. How would I help Bryn if I let myself be killed? How would I restore honor to my family if I died in the Fortress? This wasn’t my fate. It couldn’t be.

  The minotaur didn’t hold back. He lunged for me, trying to impale me with his impressive horns. I dodged him and whipped around before he could turn back toward me. I called to my magic and felt a surge of relief when I felt that familiar crackle of energy inside me. The viewers must have had another protective barrier in place. Otherwise, they would never have given me access to my magic.

  My hands sparked and I prepared to conjure a fireball. If I aimed it properly, I could use the fireballs to keep the minotaur at a safe distance. The longer I stalled, maybe the better chance we both had of survival. I had no idea whether they let the matches go on indefinitely.

  Flames streaked toward the minotaur’s head. He ducked, but not in time. One of his horns caught fire and the top dissolved, the remains blowing away in the breeze.

  He glanced up, momentarily stunned. Then looked at me with a puzzled expression and I knew he was trying to decide on his next move. He was strong, but what was pure strength against a fire witch like me?

  The minotaur did something completely unexpected. He jumped toward me and his tail whipped around his body, slapping my outstretched hand. The pain was significant enough that I lost my focus, and gave him enough time to close the gap between us. He grabbed me in a stranglehold and tried to drag me to the ground. Instead of struggling, I concentrated on my magic, summoning the warmth inside me to my hands that were wrapped around his thick forearm. The skin of my hands began to glow—first yellow, then reddish orange, until it was a faint blue. I gripped his arm harder and he screamed in agony, twisting away from me and releasing his hold on my neck.

  I stumbled backward and glimpsed the imprint of my hands on his arm. That was going to scar—there was no way around it. The loud squawk of a raven drew my attention skyward. The large black bird dipped in and out of the arena before it disappeared from view. If only it had been one of Eirlys’s crows, he could report my location to my friends, but I could tell from the bird’s size that it wasn’t.

  Galbraith scraped the dirt with his hooves, ready to dive back in. His nostrils flared once before he charged. I focused my will and felt my magic rise within me. I pushed both hands in front of me and a fiery wall appeared between us. Galbraith tried to avoid the flames, but he was too large and unwieldy to stop in time. He crashed into the wall and immediately dropped to the arena floor, rolling in the dirt in order to douse the flames.

  I ran to him, certain to keep my expression angry and determined. I leaned down and splayed my hands on the side of his body, as though ready to burn him to a crisp. Then I bent forward to whisper in his ear. “This seems to be an open-air arena. I assumed there would be a protective barrier over the top, but I saw a bird fly in and out while we’ve been fighting. I think we might be able to escape.”

  Galbraith moaned but remained still. I stood up and kicked his shoulder for good measure, careful to avoid the obvious burns. “Get up,” I yelled, trying to keep the performance going. “You’re not dead yet. Keep fighting.”

  The minotaur shifted and tried to drag himself to his feet. I had no doubt he was truly hurt, but he certainly wasn’t close to death.

  “What’s your plan, fire witch?” he mumbled. “You can’t fly without a broomstick.”

  “I know other spells,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Galbraith pulled himself to a standing position and faced the viewers. “Time,” he called. “Code fifty-two.”

  “Very well then,” Sheila said. “What happened?”

  “Time?” I echoed. “We’re allowed to call a time-out?”

  The minotaur regarded me coolly. “You’re not allowed to do anything, Number Five.”

  “What’s Code fifty-two?” I asked. Was this some kind of reprieve?

  “It means that you tried to encourage your opponent to join you in an escape attempt,” Sheila said.

  “Wait, what?” I spun around. “Why would you do that?”

  Galbraith wiped the blood and dirt from his front, unaffected by my response. “She suggested that she could get us out of here that way.” He pointed upward.

  “Galbraith works for us,” Sheila said. “I told you this was a test.”

  “He’s not a prisoner like me?” I asked.

  Sheila appeared pleased to have fooled me. “No, he’s employed by us to nearly get himself killed every so often.” She appraised his injuries. “Our resident healer will treat him.”

  “Whatever they’re paying you,” I told the minotaur, “it isn’t worth it.”

  Galbraith snorted. “I’ll be the judge of that.” His door opened and left the arena, leaving me alone with Sheila and the other viewers.

  I looked up at Sheila. “Did I pass?” Whatever that meant.

  “Your performance was somewhat unexpected,” the vampire replied. “Still, I’m happy with the results.” She glanced upward. “Plus, we’ve identified a weakness in the Fortress. Thank you for that. We usually clip the wings of our flying contenders. I haven’t experienced a witch without a broomstick attempt to take to the sky.”

  I winced. Not that I had any idea how I would’ve gotten high enough to escape, but I would have made a Herculean effort.

  “You did well, Number Five,” a familiar voice said. I zeroed in on the slight man with pointy ears beside Sheila. An elf.

  “Disembodied Voice?” I queried.

  The elf grinned. “In the flesh.”

  “So is there an actual Number Four?” I asked. For some reason, I assumed that was the one I was fighting.

  “Yes,” Sheila said. “You won’t be fighting that one, though, not while you’re both here anyway.”

  What did that mean? “And Bryn? Is she truly okay?”

  “I didn’t lie to you, Number Five,” the elf said. “Number One is fine.”

  I felt an enormous sense of relief. It was difficult to know how much to believe. They seemed to want to inflict both psychological and physical harm as part of their ‘testing.’

  “Back to your room now, Number Five,” Sheila said. “You’ve earned your rest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Time for a walk, Number Five,” Sheila’s voice rang out.

  “A walk?” I repeated. “You don’t plan to drug me and take me somewhere? I’ll be honest, I’ve been enjoying the lazy approach to getting places.”

  The white wall shimmered and was replaced by an open doorway. Sheila stood waiting for me, along with three women. I instantly recognized them as the Samodiva from the museum. Instead of white dresses, they wore white form-fitting armor from head to toe. Their wings were tucked behind their backs and they each held a staff with a pointed end.

  “You,” I said, focused on the Samodivas. They were the reason that Bryn was here. Hell, they were the reason that I was here. If I hadn’t been tracking them, I never would have been caught.

  “Yes, us,” the middle Samodiva said.

  “Brittany sends her regards,” I said.

  One of the Samodivas flinched at the mention of her name. “We know no one by that name.”

  “Really?” I asked. “She looked remarkably like you, except she wore a wig and had a heavy-handed approach to beauty.”

  “This way, Number Five.” The middle one forced me to step between them and escorted me down a long, dark corridor. Torches were ablaze on the rocky walls and the scent of must filled the air.

  “This is an old dungeon,” I said, scanning the area. I’d never be able to tell from the smooth white walls of my enclosure.

  “Perhaps,” the
middle Samodiva said. “Or perhaps we have crafted an illusion.” The other two Samodivas laughed.

  “Where are you taking me now?” I asked Sheila. “Please tell me I get to fight these three. I’d take them all down at the same time and enjoy every second of it.”

  The Samodiva to my right elbowed me in the ribs. “The Samodivas are not slaves. We do not fight the likes of you.”

  I cast a sidelong glance at her. “I’m not a slave either, sunshine. I come from a long and respected line of….”

  One of the Samodivas thumped me on the head. “Be quiet, Number Five. We are almost to the Yard.”

  We took a set of stairs up to a set of enormous iron doors. They were closed until we reached the top step, when they snapped open like they weighed no more than a feather. Like so many other things at the Fortress, they had to be enchanted to move that quickly.

  The middle Samodiva placed a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward. The iron doors slammed closed behind me and one glance told me what the Yard was. Other paranormals milled around the grounds, trying to avoid eye contact with the larger, scarier prisoners. The four corners of the Yard boasted four high towers with guards posted at the top. The rest of the Yard was walled with guards posted along the walkway. Across the grounds, I spotted Bryn and my spirits lifted. I darted over to her, careful to stay as inconspicuous as possible. I didn’t want anyone to target me as a newcomer. Thanks to Peter, I knew plenty about Terrene prison movies and what happened to new inmates.

  “Dani.” Bryn ran over and threw her arms around me. “Holy smokes, you know how scared we must be if the two of us are hugging.” She stopped and looked at the werewolf she’d been talking to. “Neither of us is much of a hugger. You should meet Cerys, though. Bruce Springsteen was born to run. That witch was born to hug.”

  The werewolf slapped his knee. “Bryn, you’re a hoot.”

  “Dani, this is my friend, Bradley,” Bryn said. “Bradley is a werewolf who’d been living in New Orleans—that’s a Terrene city. He’d only come back to our world to visit family when he was abducted after a night of drinking.”

  “I met this succubus, you see,” Bradley said. “She was the prettiest thing.” He patted the part of his chest over his heart. “I didn’t realize she was some kind of set-up.”

  “I had to fight Bradley a few days ago,” Bryn said.

  Bradley gave her arm a light punch. “Good thing she’s got that blood magic. Meant she didn’t need to kill me. Apparently, controlling me was enough for our Fortress friends.” He inclined his head toward the iron gates, where Sheila continued to stand with the Samodivas, observing everyone’s movements in the Yard.

  “Mine was completely fake,” I said. “The minotaur I fought works for them.”

  Bradley covered his mouth, trying to hide his laughter. “They caught you out on that one, huh? That happened to my buddy, Pedro, too.”

  “Oh, really?” I asked. “Pedro found an escape route?”

  “No,” Bradley said. “He apparently realized his opponent was a mole and killed him.”

  My stomach twisted. “Which one is Pedro?”

  Bradley gestured to the area near one of the towers. “The manticore.”

  I swallowed a gasp. Another manticore?

  Bryn seemed to catch my expression because she nodded. “I know, right? That’s one scary dude.”

  It occurred to me that this could be the manticore we glimpsed in Spiderwoman’s web. We’d gone searching for manticores connected to the Liberty Project, but maybe her vision had been of this place and my time here.

  “Why are we all out here together?” I asked, blinking in the sunlight. It was my first full exposure to the sun since my arrival. The open arena wasn’t nearly as exposed as the Yard.

  “The intimidation factor,” Bradley explained. “They want us to see the towers and the walls and all the guards, and then the quality of the other prisoners. Basically, they want us to know we’re totally screwed.”

  Bryn gave him a stern look. “Stop saying that. We’re not.”

  “Do you see a way out of here?” Bradley asked. “Because I’m seeing guards with more weapons than your academy’s armory.”

  At the mention of the academy, Bryn’s expression clouded over. “I thought they would’ve found us by now.”

  “Me, too,” I said. Neither of us could disguise our disappointment. “There’s been no sign of Icarus?”

  Bryn shook her head. “I keep trying to reach out to him, but it’s like the connection has been completely severed.”

  “That’s what I assumed,” I said. “They must be using some sort of interference magic.”

  “They’re a well-oiled machine,” Bryn said. “Whatever they are.”

  “Do we know what happens next?” I asked. “What are they testing us to do, exactly?”

  A look passed between Bryn and Bradley. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?” Bryn asked.

  “Since when am I a delicate doll?” I asked. “Of course, I’m ready. Our best chance of escape is understanding what’s going on.”

  Bryn nodded. “From the whispers we’ve heard from other prisoners, the plan is to sell us at a paranormal market.”

  “Sell us?” I sputtered. “Sell us to do what?” The Samodivas had used the word slave. Apparently, it was more of a fact than an insult.

  “To fight in the pits in Terrene,” Bradley said in a low voice.

  “What pits?” I asked. Peter had never mentioned any fighting pits. “Have you heard of fighting pits, Bryn?”

  “Not until here,” she said. “There’s an underground network of them in the human world. Skilled paranormal fighters are sold to the highest bidder and are transported around Terrene where they fight against other paranormals.”

  “It’s a huge market with lots of money to be made,” Bradley said.

  “What about the AMF?” I asked. “The League? Order of the Edge?” All the organizations that were meant to prevent this type of thing from happening.

  Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know, Dani. All I know is they targeted me specifically. They knew about my father and they knew I’d command a high price.”

  I stood there, completely stunned. “That’s why they kept me,” I said, more to myself. “They realized I’d be a valuable fighter.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bryn said. “I know you came searching for me and it’s my fault you’re here.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said tersely. “You didn’t kidnap yourself.”

  Bryn’s expression grew pained. “How’s Gray? I almost hate to ask. I’ve been doing a good job of blocking him from my mind.”

  I understood. I’d been doing the same with Peter. Thinking of him filled me with grief and longing. I couldn’t bear to dwell on him for too long. It made me feel weak when I needed all my strength.

  “He’s obviously desperate to find you,” I said. “We all were. Chancellor Tilkin was dusting off her feathered cloak. She just didn’t know where to look.”

  “These paranormals are professionals,” Bradley said. “They’ve been dodging the authorities for years and have a solid system in place. Probably some bribery of officials going on, too.”

  That was definitely the bad news. “No place is perfect,” I said. “There must be weaknesses.” And I intended to find them and exploit them. We were all getting out of here before they could sell us.

  “Sheila is a vampire and my monitor is an elf,” I said. “Clearly, there are magic users that are part of their organization, though. There are way too many powerful enchantments.”

  “Agreed,” Bryn said. “It could be that they hired out when they designed this monstrosity.”

  “You wouldn’t hire out for this,” Bradley said. “It’s too top secret. You’d want these magic users on the payroll for life. There’s too much at stake.”

  I gazed at the wall to my left where guards marched up and down the walkway. “Have you seen any riots or escape attempts since you’ve been
here? Anyone killed?”

  “In the Yard?” Bradley asked, and I nodded. “Yeah, I got here a few days before Bryn. I saw a werelion get cut down by one of the guards. He’d scaled one of the walls and tried to climb over.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The werelion fell back into the Yard, dead. Then Sheila came out and summoned the guard to the middle of the grounds. She bit him. Murdered him right there in front of everyone for destroying her property. Sent quite the message, as you can imagine.”

  I cringed. Sheila was deadly serious about her business. “Aren’t they worried about us colluding out here?”

  “Our small group against all those guards?” Bradley scoffed. “Hardly. Your magic doesn’t work out here, remember?”

  “I have other skills,” I said.

  “We’re not one-trick ponies,” Bryn chimed in.

  “What about you?” I asked Bradley. “Why do you think they targeted you?”

  Bradley lowered his head. “A bar fight earlier that night. The pretty succubus I mentioned saw me go to town on a troll. He’d been harassing one of the bartenders. Big fella. He probably should’ve tanned my hide, but I whooped him. From what I gather, she gets paid to identify contenders. She made a quick call and boom! Here I am.”

  “Are you a trained fighter?” I asked.

  “Trained in the woods in Terrene and on the streets in our world,” he replied. “No formal training, though. Not like you two.”

  I watched the other paranormals idly moving around the Yard. How many were plotting an escape? How many were deciding which of us they could kill?

  “How long will they leave us out here?” I asked. As grateful as I was for the warmth of the sun, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable amidst these caged paranormals. The manticore alone made me shudder. Pedro had already shown his temper by killing his opponent during the fake test match.

  “Not much longer,” Bradley said. “It’s a daily message. That’s all.”

  “Do we know how many more hoops we jump through before they put us on the sale block?” Bryn asked.

  Bradley grimaced. “Your guess is as good as mine. No one here knows for sure because everyone who knows has already been transported to Terrene.”