Key stood in front of a glimmering doorway before it shimmered and morphed into a new doorway. My stomach lurched as the feeling of magic crested over me.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. As far as I knew, fae couldn’t make portals into the Veil. The gate was the only way in, so where was he about to take us?
He reached down and grasped a golden doorknob that reflected the light from the hallway. When the door opened, a bright light shone around the frame in a wide arc and blinded me. Cheers erupted from the space on the other side of the door, mingled with the hard slap of flesh against flesh. I flinched at the sound of an ear-splitting roar.
“Keep her close,” Key instructed.
The man tightened his grip on my arm in a bruising hold, his nails digging into the tender flesh on the underside of my arm. My captor and I walked through the doorway into a smoke-filled, dingy warehouse. It felt industrial and cold, redolent with the coppery scent of old blood and the musk of sweaty, unwashed bodies. The concrete floor and masonry walls seemed to suck all the life and air out of the room, making the space feel even more unwelcoming and stark.
Key wove his way through the huddled masses of paras who stood back, watching the gruesome scene before them. The pit in my stomach grew with the realization that we were in the fighting cage. The faces we passed ranged from eager excitement to pure boredom while others watched with lust in their eyes.
Humans were interspersed with the paras, and the only way I knew the difference was by watching how paras held themselves versus humans. It also helped that I could sense their glamours. There were no sympathetic eyes from the individuals we passed. The fae nodded respectfully at Key, their glamours up and beaming. In comparison, the humans made their lower status painfully obvious by coming forward, bowing and scraping as they shook Key’s hand, honored to be in his presence. He allowed it but kept it short and maintained his purposeful stride through the crowd.
We were on the highest level of the building, but from where others were crammed against a railing overlooking an open space, I could tell there were more levels beneath us. I tried to peek over the railing to see how high we were and saw two raised levels that ended at the main floor, which was sloped in the middle to make up the fighting pit. It was similar to the fighting ring I’d gone to with Cyril before our last mission ended in abysmal failure with Olezka ripping that werewolf a new one.
A hush settled over the crowd a minute before I heard two bodies clash together, followed by a resounding roar that seemed to ring throughout the arena with deafening finality. The energy levels, merely buzzing before, crackled with heightened intensity. The spectators became bloodthirsty and more amped as the fight became more aggressive. I couldn’t see it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I wasn’t sure where Key was leading us until we finally arrived at a private compartment that was roped off by a thin, black rail. Though the rest of the space at the railing was packed tightly, I noticed no one was standing in front of this particular booth, impeding his view of the fight. Two muscular humans stood on either side of the booth, acting as his guards. I shivered when I noticed the blank look in their eyes, matching the one worn by the man who still clenched my arm and half-dragged me through the spectators. An ornate chair was placed between the two large guards, resplendent with a gold frame and a rich, burgundy velvet seat. As Key sat down and looked over his subjects, I realized that was how he saw himself.
Here, in the fighting ring, he was King.
That could never happen.
Key fixed his uncanny eyes on me. “Bring her.”
The human pulled me forward and positioned me so I stood at Key’s side, facing the fighting ring. Forced to watch, I almost staggered backward when I recognized one of the combatants. Cyril was in the ring, shirtless and without shoes. Tattoos swirled down his back, and his muscles glistened with sweat under the harsh lights. His hair was soaked from a mixture of sweat and blood. Both he and his opponent were covered in it. While Cyril looked rough, the other para looked even worse.
Cyril lunged forward suddenly, and I realized he held a small knife clenched in his hand. The creature he fought slashed back with elongated claws. I gasped and flinched as the razor-sharp tips slid against Cyril’s skin. Cyril danced backward on the balls of his feet, narrowly missing the slashing move.
“He’s one of my best fighters, you know,” Key boasted, snapping my attention back to him. He watched the fight with a glint of power and satisfaction in his eyes. “Watch, human. This is why he’s the best fighter.”
I turned back to see that Cyril was tricking his opponent into thinking he had the upper hand, forcing Cyril back a couple more steps. But with a serpentine grace, Cyril popped up behind him and held the creature in an unforgiving hold. The incubus looked up at Key as he dragged his blade against the other male’s throat, killing him and releasing spurts of crimson blood that cascaded onto the spectators in the front row, much to their delight.
I recoiled in horror and looked away before the blood stopped squirting. The crowd loved it, though. The noise before was bad, but now it was deafening as they screamed with glee and stomped their feet on the concrete floor.
That was what they came for, after all.
“Only the strong survive,” Key said, looking right at me.
“And only the foolish kill unnecessarily,” I retorted.
He wore a satisfied smirk. “I have my reasons for doing what I do, and you humans breed like rabbits, anyway. There are always enough of you to waste.”
The crowd went silent again as three males entered the ring with Cyril. He raised his hands and tossed the knife to the side before backing away. I didn’t understand why he would throw away his weapon until I saw that each of the guards wore gloves and held a baton. It looked heavy, and as each guard swung their batons at Cyril, I realized they were made of iron. I cringed.
Two more males darted into the ring and dragged the lifeless body out of the fighting pit. Cyril looked up at us again and met my eyes, though no flicker of emotion on his face gave away his thoughts.
I need to get my hands on some technology! I thought to myself. If I could get online, I could activate the safeguards I’d enacted for us. One call would start the cascade to get in contact with the others, and another would start messing with their security systems here.
“Now, the real show will begin,” Key declared with relish. He sat back in his fool’s throne, steepled his fingers together, and crossed his legs.
I was filled with apprehension as Cyril’s head turned toward the doorway from where the three guards had entered and exited. A large door opened on rusty hinges to admit the newest competitor, and the crowd roared with excitement. I saw several people wandering between patrons, taking bets.
“The next match is to the death!” an announcer yelled. “Place your bets. And tonight, a special prize for the victor!”
The man holding me pushed me forward, and I gulped as hundreds of eyes swiveled my way. A thrill went through the crowd, and a tumult of voices, shouts, and whistles boomed through the building. Key didn’t say a word; instead, he waited, watching the entranceway of the fighting pit. Suddenly, a shiver skittered down my spine, and a sense of familiarity hit me. It was a strange sensation in the midst of the tumult in which I currently found myself because it felt like a hint of safety touched me and attempted to furl around me protectively.
“Oh, no,” I whispered under my breath as I took an instinctive step back. Without a doubt, I knew who would be walking out those doors. I shook my head as Cyril remained in the ring, shooting daggers up at Key, who watched him dispassionately.
The room went eerily quiet as the door opened farther, and enraged snarls came from the entrance. He was shirtless, bruised, and already bloodied from fresh wounds. His hair was wild and unkempt, and even though it had only been days since I’d seen him, he looked completely different. Exhausted, definitely, but battle-worn, angry, and edgy. While I’d seen my mate wound up before, this
was different. This was the side he kept carefully hidden from me—the side who did whatever it took to survive.
I saw the same rage and wildness in Illarion reflected in Olezka. I held my breath and watched as he stepped out, his nostrils flared and scented the air. His shoulders dropped for a millisecond before he became as solid as steel. His burning eyes latched onto Cyril before his nose led his vision farther up. I swallowed thickly when his heated gaze met mine.
In a flash, his canines elongated, and spiky fur sprouted all over his body as he tried to hold back his change. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to break free, but when his gaze slipped just past me, I felt a shadowy presence cooling my inner fire.
Key gripped my neck possessively and pulled me flush against his body. I cringed and tried to pull away, but I was immobile in his grasp.
“Let the fight begin!” he yelled in my ear before pulling me back to where he was sitting.
Olezka didn’t take his eyes off us. If it was possible, he would jump up the three levels to us and rip this conceited, waste of fae-breath to pieces. Part of me wanted that. But when I saw Cyril move out of the corner of my eye, my heart stopped in my chest.
I was struck by the twisted situation. They couldn’t fight to the death.
If Olezka killed Cyril, it would kill me as well because we were linked through the oath. And I wouldn’t survive if Cyril killed my mate. Key had destroyed me in a matter of seconds.
“No!” I screamed.
Chapter 20
The moment Olezka and Cyril clashed, I didn’t even have to be watching to know it. Not only did my body feel bruised when they collided, but the sound of their bodies striking one another echoed in my head. Cyril leaned close to Olezka’s ear, I assumed he was trying to calm him down, but Olezka was mindless with rage. The hellhound in the ring was more beast than man right now.
“They won’t do as you asked,” I muttered under my breath as I watched Olezka snarl and try to get past Cyril’s reach. Olezka was careful not to rake his claws against Cyril; even mindless, he wouldn’t hurt me even indirectly.
“Don’t be so certain,” Key responded snidely as he tucked me farther away from the railing. His touch made me want to revolt. If I could, I’d jump over the fence down into the pit, but I needed to stick to the plan. “Get ready,” Key whispered to one of the guards standing next to him.
The guard’s eyes were empty and soulless; it made me shiver with uncertainty and a bit of fear. The man nodded and started moving through the crowd. I turned my attention back to the ring where I saw Cyril still trying to speak and get through to Olezka. But Olezka kept his focus on me.
The man who held me pulled me closer to Key, and I had to split my attention from Key's fighting ring. But the Dark Fae’s attention remained locked on me, and he looked pissed.
“You’ve caused me more than enough issues, yet I find that I still need you alive, human. However, I need to make an example of you for those who would try to escape me.”
Key’s guard returned holding a small cloth bag. It was zipped up, keeping whatever it contained a secret from me, but when he unzipped it, I put two and two together. He assembled a needle and filled the syringe with dark liquid, making me squirm with disgust and yes, anticipation. Even if I didn’t want that anywhere near me, part of my brain recognized it for what it was.
Dreamscape.
The small dosage Key had once administered lingered in my body for days, and worse, the need to get my hands on more didn’t leave me for more than a week. Even now, a deep, dark part of me whispered that I could have the power to get us all out of this situation if I took just a small hit of that. Unfortunately, the drug had a rather disturbing side effect where it left the user entirely out of their mind, not to mention it was highly addictive. Right now, I didn’t know if I was squirming to get closer or to get away. But when Key’s gaze slipped past me, I realized the heart of the matter. If he injected me, the effects might transfer through the oath bond to Cyril.
“No.”
“Hold her steady,” Key growled then turned to the masses and stood with a fake, plastic smile stretched across his perfect face. “My friends!” his voice boomed across the arena.
With those words, my ears popped, and my head pounded. I squinted behind my glasses, trying to focus. He appeared to be sitting and standing at the same time. Then I realized he was using a powerful glamour on the room so only the fae could see and hear him. It made me dizzy. “Witness but a taste of what I can do for you.” He whipped his head toward me. “Inject her.”
I squeaked when the man holding me wrapped one arm around my body and used his free hand to crane my head to the side. The other guard swooped in with the needle, and sweat broke out on my forehead as the sharp tip came closer and closer to my skin. Olezka’s roar made the walls tremble, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to happen fast.
A momentary pinch when the needle pierced my flesh, then the heat of the drug flushed through my system, and I went lax in his arms. Dreamscape coursed through me, my body inviting it in like an old friend. My head lolled back as I tried to push through the comfort of the drug.
“Stand up for me, Sixx.”
My brain reacted to Key’s voice, responding to his command without me wanting to. If anything, I wanted to sink deeper into the feeling of the drug. Instead, I stood up straight without the help of the man holding me.
“Sixx, walk over to me,” Key said, his eyes focused on the fighting ring.
But I only had eyes for him. I did as he commanded even if a very real part of me screamed not to do it. But this wasn’t like the time he used his Lure on me. No magic brushed against the back of my neck. This time, I was fully aware, which made it more terrifying to hear my inner voice chanting NO! even as my traitorous body responded without hesitation. I stopped in front of Key, who wrapped a hand around my neck.
“So fragile, these humans. So easily manipulated.” Key turned me so I was facing the fighting ring. Olezka was on fire, literally. His entire body was engulfed in hellfire.
“Fight him, Cyril,” Key called out.
Without hesitation, Cyril went after Olezka with a single-minded determination. He moved with the same skill and fluidity he employed during our flight from the Light Fae and in the fight I watched him finish earlier. He didn’t hold back as he attacked my mate with renewed vigor. I was screaming on the inside, demanding he stop, but no words escaped my lips.
“Now you will learn your place, human,” Key sneered, taking his place back on his pseudo throne.
With the resurgence of the fight, the paras shifted their attention from Key back to the two paras in the ring. Olezka was trying to block his attacks, but Cyril had picked up his forgotten knife during the commotion and started to swipe at him. Olezka remained in his human form, keeping his fire around him as a barrier. The fire cradled me and kept me safe, recognizing me as his. The bond between Cyril and me, though, didn’t protect him or me from the pain.
The fight continued in the same way. Cyril lunged forward, dancing around, trying to take quick swipes at Olezka, while my mate moved out of the way. He was bulkier than Cyril, but he still moved as gracefully as a panther. Their movements slowed, and Cyril staggered in his footing a little more frequently. They broke apart, giving each other a bit of space.
Olezka focused on me, which he did often, but this time, it felt different. I could almost feel his hands on my hips, his lips against my forehead. For a moment, I was his again, only his. And in that one moment, I felt a resurgence of freedom that had been stolen from me. My finger twitched, wanting to reach out for Olezka. To feel his skin against mine. It felt like we had only moments left.
It seemed like their battle would never end. I was afraid it would go around and around until Key did something drastic. I made a choked sound, wanting to reach out to my mate and warn him. Instead, my gaze roamed to Cyril, who dropped his hand an inch. Cyril stumbled again and looked back at me with a sense of peace and
finality in his gaze. He moved his lips, but whatever he was trying to say, I didn’t understand.
In the next instant, something inside me snapped. I immediately knew that the magic that bound me to the incubus was gone. The tether I felt to him was a weight on my shoulders I didn’t realize I had until it was gone. I gasped in surprise but tried to stifle my reaction because the same moment Cyril’s bond on me broke, the snap of magic was enough to release me from Key’s command as well, though Dreamscape still raged through my system and muddled my thoughts.
Cyril moved sloppier than before, but he still managed to fight against Olezka. But now, he didn’t have to hold back in fear of hurting me. I realized they must have worked this out together.
Olezka’s hands morphed, becoming bigger and tipped with razor-sharp claws. He swiped, hitting Cyril in his shoulder. When Cyril was knocked off-kilter, Olezka lunged, ramming his other hand into Cyril’s abdomen.
My breath caught, and though our oath link was severed, I felt the slight echo of Cyril’s pain. Tears prickled my eyes, but I couldn’t move to grip the railing in front of me because I didn’t want to alert Key to the fact that I was free of his command. I wanted to crumple to the ground and mourn Cyril’s loss. He may have betrayed me, but he was still a friend.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Most screamed with excitement, except for those who had bet on the incubus and lost. They wanted blood, and they were getting it. The tension in the room became stifling. The drug in my veins flared and reacted to the adrenaline that pumped back into my veins, igniting a spark of fire in my gut.
“Get him out of there, and send in the next one,” Key said disgustedly. He was obviously displeased by the turn of events. Olezka removed his hand from Cyril’s abdomen and laid him flat on the sandy floor, his blood dampening the ground. My heart lodged in my throat even as my vision dimmed.
Olezka was my mate. I knew of his dark past, but to see him kill… well, it destroyed a little piece of me. He looked up at my face, pain reflected in his gaze as if he could sense my inner turmoil.
Sixx and the Incubus: The Sidekick Chronicles Page 14