Holly kept her expression serene as she pinched his side hard. Unfortunately, he was too lean to get a good grasp of any flesh. Even so, he gave a little grunt and wisely moved away.
“So, then,” Kettil said as he took off the spectrometers, “what will this cost me?”
Thorne pulled a small paper from his pocket of delights and handed it to him.
There, drawn with great skill, was a rendering of the dagger that the assassin had dropped and of the tattoo that graced Thorne’s forearm.
Upon seeing the blade, Kettil’s expression froze for one icy moment, and it was a look of terror. Then he blinked it away and hastily shoved the paper back at Thorne. “ ’Twill take more than this for that sort of tell.”
Thorne did not appear surprised by the news. “Price?”
Kettil’s eyes went to the ring. “A bout. And the spectacles.”
Thorne gave a negligent shrug that had his hair sliding like white satin over his shoulders. “Very well.”
He moved to rise, when Kettil shook his head. “ ’Fraid it’s ladies night.” His oily gaze slithered over to Holly.
Thorne growled—a low sort of rumble a dog would give when guarding his food. “I’ll come back another night.”
“Don’t think so, mate.” Kettil crossed his arms over his ample belly. “You know the rules. Favors only granted at the time of request.”
Seemed like a made-up rule to Holly, but Thorne’s mouth tightened so perhaps it wasn’t.
“Then we leave.” Thorne stood, his chair scraping against the slat-board floor.
Leave? He motioned for Holly to rise, but she stayed put. She’d let him drink her blood. She’d trawled down the bloody tunnel to Hell for this. And he was going to leave? When they could have the information they needed tonight?
“Hold on.” Kettil raised a placating hand. “You need not be so hasty. Your female can fight.”
“Absolutely not,” snarled Thorne.
Holly stood then, and Thorne grabbed her elbow, ready to usher her out. She held firm and then threw herself into the thick. “I’ll do it.”
“You will not,” shouted Thorne, just as Kettil slapped a hand on his thigh and cried, “Deal.”
He appeared far too pleased. Thorne, on the other hand, bared his full fangs and hissed. “No!”
Holly met his glower without flinching. “You do not get to decide.”
“Oh, yes I do.” He wrenched her closer. “You are my esculent. Mine.”
She leaned around him. “When do I fight?” she asked a beaming Kettil.
Thorne uttered a ribald curse. “No, no, no.” With each ‘no’ Thorne shook her arm. “You are not fighting.”
“Do stop,” Holly said, pulling free. “You’re going to give me a migraine. Besides, I need my strength.”
Thorne let go and rammed a hand through his hair instead, knocking his top hat off in the process. He appeared ready to scream.
Kettil rose. “Go to the back. Harlan will get you sorted.”
When Thorne rounded on Kettil with a snarl, he tutted. “Now, Thorne, you know the rules. You can’t be hurting me here. And the lady has taken up me offer. No backing out of it now without bloodshed.” His expression turned ruthless. “And not just yours, either.”
Calmly, Holly pulled Thorne to the side of the box. Around wild tangles of his long hair, his expression was mulish, his black eyes turning silver. “You cannot go into that ring and fight, Holly,” he said without preamble. “You will die!”
“Well, that’s a fine thing to say,” she snapped back. “How about a little support?”
He leaned closer, until they were nose to nose, and his hair hid them from view. “In case it has slipped your notice, you are human. Who,” he added when she meant to speak, “would not leave her house until a few days ago!”
She did not blink. “I am not merely human. I am SOS.”
“You are an inventor for the SOS, not a regulator. And your contraptions won’t save you in the ring. You won’t be allowed any mechanical devices for defense.”
“I am trained in combat. Every SOS member is.” Before she’d hidden herself away, she’d trained with Mary, the both of them quite enjoying the exercise. True, her skills might be a little rusty. But she was hardly a civilian. “And I won’t need any devices.”
She could hear Thorne’s teeth grinding. “Holly…”
The sound of her given name on his lips, the pleading tone of it, softened her response. “We need this information, do we not?” She did not want to fight. Only a mad woman would. But she was no coward either.
“We’ll find it another way.”
“How?” She searched his face and saw the frustration there. She empathized. As if it could hide the truth, he avoided her gaze.
“I don’t know,” he finally ground out.
Holly took a deep breath then nodded. “Then there is nothing for it. I will fight. And we will get the information we need.” Because they were a we. Somehow, they’d become so the very moment Amaros had wheeled Will Thorne into her laboratory and given him her heart.
Helplessness was an emotion Will detested. He’d only felt it a few times, and each had been during the worst moments of his life. Now it gripped him again. His teeth snapped together, his fangs growing so long they pressed over his bottom lip.
Harlan led them into a back room. “Pick two weapons on the table. Two only. You’ve twenty minutes ’afore the next bout.” He stopped as if remembering some pertinent information. “You’ll be fighting a raptor.”
Will’s innards pitched. A sodding raptor? Oh, fuck no.
Evernight, so very small before the hulking guard, nodded briskly, then moved to a quiet corner as if seeking some privacy.
Will followed. “You cannot do this,” he growled, his words garbled by fangs and fear. How many times must he repeat this before she heeded, the blasted woman?
Evernight did not look up from her task. “Your lack of confidence in me is certainly not helping with morale.” She reached under her voluminous skirts and began to wriggle about, distracting him with the amount of shapely leg she revealed.
His attention stayed on her searching hand. What on this dark, hateful earth? Gritting his teeth, he tried not to shout. “You are human.” It was a shout anyway, and it came out far too fearful.
The cage of her bustle rattled to the floor, deflating her skirts. “I am aware.”
“And yet you intend to fight a raptor!” Had she lost all sense? A raptor would tear her open in a heartbeat.
Evernight drew a switchblade from her reticule and flicked it open. The blade was shockingly large and lethal. “Must we go over this yet again? It is becoming tedious.”
“When you insist on ignoring common sense, then yes,” he said, torn between wanting to strangle her and watching as she proceeded to hack away at her skirts, cutting them off at her knees.
Red satin pooled at her feet. Hells bells but her legs were lovely. He wanted to memorize the exact shape of them with his tongue.
“I am not merely a human, Thorne. I am an elemental. Do not underestimate me.”
“An elemental who cannot heal as a demon can. Satan’s balls, woman, one good slice of a raptor’s claws and you’ll be dead!” Bile rushed up his throat as he said the words, and he swallowed with difficulty.
Dainty as a society miss, she stepped out of the remnants of her ruined gown. Only then did she deign to look his way. “You know as well as I that we cannot back out now. So cease berating me and give me your waistcoat.”
His mouth hung open for a moment. Insufferable woman. He hated that she was in the right. Hated that this might very well be the last moment he saw her whole and unharmed. Since he could not give into that particular fear, he addressed the next most pressing question. “My waistcoat? Why?” He was already shrugging off his jacket and going at his buttons.
Evernight pulled a few hairpins out of her coiffure and re-secured them, tucking in wayward inky strands until every hair
was severely secured. At least she’d taken note of what a good target free-hanging hair made.
“I do not want to worry about my bosom popping free on top of everything else.”
In the act of handing her his waistcoat, he nearly dropped it. His fist clenched. “Good point,” was all he got out, for now he had that image in his head to contend with as well, thank you, Miss Evernight.
She took it from him and finished dressing with brusque efficiency.
Hell, she ought to look ridiculous, with her hacked-off skirts hanging limply around her knees, exposing her black-striped silk stockings and little boots, and wearing a man’s waistcoat. The garment did not fit her perfectly. It hung too loose at her waist and strained over her breasts, but it covered the sweet swells of them admirably.
Yes, she ought to look a fright. Instead she stirred his blood. With the determined tilt of her head, her steeled spine, she was a warrior. And she was a human.
“Right, then,” she said crisply. “Weapons.”
Weary, Will leaned against the wall and simply watched her. His heart was a leaden weight against his ribs as she marched over to the table that held a selection of gruesome weaponry.
Lips pursed as if she were shopping at Harrods, Evernight scanned the selection. She picked up a pair of metal gauntlets first. They were huge, meant for a large man, and crafted of steel. He was about to protest the inane choice when she slipped them on.
As if alive, the metal suddenly undulated, gliding over her hands and forearms, shrinking and stretching, fitting itself to her shape. When the gauntlets had reached her upper arms, they suddenly shimmered and then hardened once more. A perfect fit.
Evernight peered at him from over her slim shoulder, and a quiet smile danced around her lips. Then she made a fist. Instantly four blades shot out from her knuckles. Claws.
Will thought he might be in love.
“And your next choice?” His voice was dry, rough as sand. She only had one more. Two weapons. Two bloody weapons to defend herself against an immortal. The room seemed to sway.
Evernight’s thin, pale hand hovered over the rows of battle axes, maces, swords, and blades. She stopped above a Scottish broadsword that had to be over four feet long and weighed at least five pounds. She hefted it high, her slim arms straining against the weight. Then glanced at him.
Will raised one brow. Truly?
Her black brow lifted in turn. Truly.
And then, still watching him, she took hold of the sword and snapped it in half as if it was nothing more than a dry twig. Like the gauntlets, the halves appeared to come alive. Writhing like snakes, they coiled around her arms and settled in. With that done, she turned and faced the thug looming at the door. “I’m ready.”
She was going. Leaving him. Will stirred out of his self-imposed pout and leapt forward, catching her by the shoulders. She gaped up at him as he spun her around.
“What now?” Her tone was short.
He couldn’t speak. Emotion, a strange mix of panic and something odd that squeezed his chest with icy hands, rooted him to the spot. He could only grip her fragile shoulders far too tightly and stare. Even in the dank light, her skin was luminous, the bones beneath it delicately wrought and fine. Wide eyes of the deepest blue gazed up at him expectantly. And he could not say a bloody thing.
His chest heaved, his fingers turning cold. Now was not the time to lose his sanity. But he could not stave off the dark tendrils of dread that bled into his sight.
“Thorne.” Her voice came at him as though through thick cotton. “I have to go now.”
Go. She had to go.
He took a shuddering breath. Calm. Be calm. Don’t show fear. Slowly the buzzing in his ears quieted, and his vision cleared. Evernight was still before him. So lovely. Her lips were petal pink. She smelled of mechanical things and fresh blood and the essence of her. A scent that would never be replicated. Were it gone, it would stay gone.
“This fight has to end before it begins,” he barked out. “Make every hit count.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Raptors love blood almost as much as sanguis do. Expect her to make you bleed.” Hell. Fucking Hell. “She’ll want to draw the fight out. You,” he gave her an abortive shake, “don’t.”
“I know, Thorne.” Her exasperation was clear.
His mouth worked; words caught in his throat. She was in danger because of him, and he had to let her go. So he said the only thing he could think of.
“Don’t die.”
Chapter Nineteen
Don’t die. What sort of help would that drivel be to Evernight, Will thought as he slumped in his seat next to the bastard Kettil. Jolly good, go and state the bloody obvious, mate. His guts churned, and he suppressed a growl.
Around him the crowd was chanting, baying for blood. Stomping feet had the floors bouncing.
His fault, all his fault.
“Ah, tops. Just tops!” Grinning around his pipe, Kettil sat back and rubbed his belly in contentment. “Never had an elemental in the ring. Novelty of it should be amusing. Just hope your lass holds out long enough for a good show.”
It took all that Will had not to launch himself out of the chair and tear Kettil’s head from his neck. His claws bit into his palms. “If she dies,” he said to him, “you will be next.”
Kettil’s beady eyes widened. Will did not blink. He’d make it hurt, and then hunt down everyone who had watched.
The crowd roared. Holly and the female raptor had stepped into the ring. Will sat up straight. Even though his was the finest seat in the room and center stage, he craned forward.
Gods, but she appeared so small. She looked a mere girl with her skirts hanging about her knees and her slim shoulders, squared and tense. The raptor before her was a large bitch, as far as raptors went. Nearly a foot taller than Evernight, the raptor hadn’t bothered with a human appearance but kept her dark grey skin and yellow eyes. Thick fangs, designed to tear flesh, peaked out from her black lips as she smiled. She carried no weapons. She didn’t need to. Fangs, claws, and superior strength were on her side.
“What sweet treat is this?” the raptor shouted to the crowd, and they cheered with glee.
“That is Calli,” Kettil murmured. Beads of sweat now dotted his brow, and he mopped at them with a grimy handkerchief. “She, ah, likes to employ a bit of showmanship.”
Calli lifted her arms wide, riling up the crowd. “Shall I gobble her up in one bite?”
Half the crowd swelled with approval.
“Or take small tastes and enjoy her?”
The room vibrated with raucous agreement, and the rank scent of sweat and violence thickened the air.
Fucking hell. Will fairly twitched. He could not stop this.
“Look at the little elemental,” Calli went on, laughing. “Wearing naught but gauntlets!” She turned her yellow eyes upon Holly. “Shall you slap me with one when I forget my manners, human?”
Holly merely stood watching the bitch. Deep within himself, Will started to shake, metal working outward from his heart, turning everything ice cold. He sucked down a breath, fighting against the inevitable tide. He had to witness this. He owed her that much.
The chair beside him creaked as Kettil stood and, in a booming voice, spoke. “All right, ladies and gents,” he said, though the crowd wasn’t anything of the sort, “you know the rules. Fight dirty, double points for first blood, five minutes maximum…”
Five minutes. She merely needed to remain undamaged for five minutes. And it would be over. A bloody eternity.
Kettil’s fangs flashed. “But sudden death wins!”
“What!” Will lurched from his seat, his mind screaming no! even as the crowd roared in anticipation. He made to swipe at Kettil’s fat belly, but the blood voucher kicked in and invisible hands seemed to slam into his chest. He crashed back into his seat, his throat swollen shut, keeping him from shouting his protest.
Kettil glanced his way. “You know very well you can’t ki
ll me.”
He’d see about that.
In the pit, the raptor crouched, grinning wide and extending her yellowed claws. Holly widened her stance and kept her eyes upon her opponent.
Holly. Terror arced through Will as the bell rang.
Instantly, Calli leapt, her claws swinging down in a vicious strike. Holly lifted her arm at a 45-degree angle, protecting her face, and the claws scraped along her metal gauntlet in a shower of sparks.
Before the raptor could move, Holly kicked out, connecting with a knee. Bone crunched. Calli screeched as her leg bent back at an unnatural angle.
Like the rest of the crowd, Will surged to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides as he shouted an incoherent cry.
Holly’s body was a blur of red and black as she spun round and caught Calli’s jaw with her booted heel. The raptor slammed to the dusty boards.
“Ho!” Kettil laughed.
“Elemental, Elemental,” the crowd chanted.
As for Will, he wanted to sob, shout, laugh, strangle, or kiss Holly senseless. He gripped the rough railing of the box tight enough to splinter the wood.
Holly stepped back, alert and ready as a snarling Calli jumped up, graceless and hobbled in one leg. Black blood trickled from her lips. “Bitch!” Spittle flew. “I’ll rip your intestines out and wear them as a necklace!”
Without warning, her tongue lashed out like a long, black whip akin to a frog’s. It caught Holly around the ankles and tugged. Holly fell back, bashing into the floor, her palms slapping against the boards.
Will’s metal heart lodged in his throat; the railing came off in his hand.
Before Holly could protect herself, Calli yanked her forward, slashing out with her claws. But at the same instant, Holly gave a war cry, sitting upright with the force of it. Silver whips of liquid metal shot out from her gauntlets. With a snap of her wrists, the whips hissed through the air, catching Calli on either side of her neck.
The raptor’s eyes went wide, her mouth opening on a cry that never came for, at the last moment, the whips solidified into razor sharp swords that cleaved through her neck as though it were soft pudding.
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