“Time for the main event.” Jared announced, making my stomach flip over. I turned my gaze back to the stage so slowly it was almost as if, in my subconscious, I was giving myself time to brace for the nightmare that was still to come. But no matter how long it took, it didn’t change the outcome. Sigurd was now at centre stage, waiting for a fight that I had gotten him into. That thought weighed heavy on my mind… that was until Sigurd’s next actions had my jaw dropping. For now Sigurd, my hooded knight and shadowed warrior, was stood there in all his glory.
All his bare glory that showed every inch of him, now no longer hidden, but more importantly and for the first time…
I could finally see his face.
Chapter 29
Black Betty
When the veil lifted in the form of Sigurd tossing his jacket aside, I couldn’t take my eyes from him. It was like having a blindfold take your sight from you for days and then at once being ripped away having you blinking rapidly. Well, that is what I was doing right now, blinking as though the sight before me wasn’t real. It wasn’t from seeing the formidable display of muscle upon muscle that made up his tall body. It wasn’t even that most of his colossal body was covered in thick black tattoos of snakes that circled his torso in diagonal lines. No, what had me blinking was all I didn’t expect to see and that was the breathtaking beauty before me. His face was the very meaning of stunning masculinity.
Hair the colour of desert sand was a disarray of choppy waves that was longer on the top, lying in every direction as though hands had been roughly raking through it. High sculptured cheek bones came down into a square jaw that was speckled with tawny coloured stubble. A long straight nose gave him a vicious and predatory air as he turned his head up to the sound of his opponent coming into the ring. But the real beauty came from his incredible eyes.
They were like the light in burning amber and dark drizzled honey mixing together in swirls. Only, one was unusually different than the other. Brighter one minute and then darker the next. Almost as if the iris was coming alive, swimming around and pulsating with anticipation for the battle to come.
At some point Sigurd must have been asked to get ready for the fight, because now he stood, cracking his neck to the side, wearing nothing but his leather trousers with every other inch of him on impressive display. I recognised the tattoos that consumed most of his body as the Ouroboros, which wasn’t surprising considering he was the master of them. What was surprising was just how alive they appeared. They weren’t just flat against his skin, but they had a real depth to them. The further up on his arm they went, the thicker and more intricate they became, each one looking as alive as the body they lived on.
“Now, this is a sight I have been looking forward to.” I couldn’t help it when I turned quickly and shot daggers at Jared. He was, after all, the very reason that this fight was taking place.
“Please, you don’t have to do this! I will tell you anything you want to know but please…please, don’t make him fight.” I decided begging was going to be a much better way to go in helping my friend from the dangerous situation I had put him in.
“Now, that sweet pleading just answers one of my questions.” He said laughing.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is simple…” He paused to hold onto my neck with one hand and turn my head with the other, until I was once again facing the stage.
“…if you really knew the Demon you keep as company, then you wouldn’t at all fear this fight.” He hummed in my ear.
“But what about the Demon he fights, should I underestimate him too?” I said in clipped tones, not being able to take my eyes from the stage even if I had wanted to, thanks to the hand that still held me positioned, ready for his ‘entertainment’. I felt the deep chuckle at my back before I felt lips at my ear,
“Never underestimate your enemy, young one and further more…” This time both his hands came to rest on my shoulders and he tugged me back sharply in time for him to finish his frightening words,
“….never underestimate…me!” The ‘me’ part was not only emphasised by the fingers that bit into my flesh, but also the dangerous growl that was all the warning I needed to trust in his threat. When he heard me swallow a plum sized lump in my throat he relaxed his punishing hold on me.
“Now, relax back and enjoy the show, I think you will find the outcome surprising.” He said now back to his comforting tone that still held that undercurrent of dominating command and well, this combined with his arm that banded itself across my upper body to pull me back to him, I had little choice than to do as I was told. So, needless to say, I ‘relaxed’ into him.
“Oh good, I didn’t miss this bastard’s bloodshed.” I heard Marcus say behind us and I turned my head as he flung himself back into his seat, legs thrown casually over the armrest. I sent him my fiercest scowl hoping in the next ten seconds I would develop the supernatural power of heated death rays from my eyes. Unfortunately, there was no such luck seeing as his lips didn’t come melting off his evil clown face!
“Get your ass outta of my seat, pencil dick!” Smidge said coming to stop in front of him with her arms folded and her orange hair slightly glowing with her anger.
“Sit your big ass down Smidge and I’ll prove just how wrong that statement is by drawing a moan from those succulent ripe lips of yours.” He said making slow work of licking his lips after creating a few tiny sparks when sharpening his wicked looking nails against one another.
“Arrrhhh!” She shouted storming off to Jared’s other side to take the empty seat there. Marcus laughed heartily when he heard her mumble,
“Frustrating fucker!”
“Now, now children, play nice.” Jared commented dryly.
“Now where’s the fun in that, J?” Marcus asked then shouting,
“Wench!” to get the attention of one of the waitresses, who rolled her eyes before handing him a bottle.
“Don’t worry Jared, he couldn’t find the right hole to put that ‘pencil’ in, if the dipshit had DickNav!” At this I couldn’t help the laugh that burst through my anxiety from the upcoming fight. Marcus slammed down his beer, sloshing foam over the neck and leaned forward towards me,
“Think that’s funny, human or do you wanna see me test my statement on your skinny ass!?” This turned out to be the wrong thing to say as Jared had suddenly lost his patience. His arm tensed around me in a protective way and he let out a booming word that hurt my ears,
“ENOUGH!” At this the whole room stopped and lowered their heads at the sound of such rage and the air became thick with the pulsating energy of their master’s wrath. I looked to Sigurd and saw him make a move in the ring that brought him closer to me. I knew he was about to do something stupid just to save me in this but because I knew something he didn’t, I quickly shook my head at him. He thankfully ceased in his risky plans but you couldn’t miss the proof he was less than happy at seeing me in the arms of Jared. The beautiful amber heat in his eyes started to get consumed with black smoke, leaving only one flaming ring that spun with his building anger.
I did the only thing I could think of and mouthed the words,
“I’m okay,” which thankfully was enough to unclench his hammer-like fists.
“Now get on with your fucking job, Jester and leave this human to ME!” The beast snapped out at the end, making it clearer than ice who was in charge. His once friendly manner gone the instant my life seemed threatened. This was how I knew I had nothing to fear from the beast at my back. The only question now was…why?
“Of course, My Lord.” And with these words from Marcus, it meant I regrettably didn’t have long to ponder this as the jester took off back to the stage. He jumped gracefully over the wired sides that acted as crude boxing ring ropes, ones I knew, would soon be coursing with electricity, caging in the fighters with power created by mere mortal men. This irony wasn’t lost on me considering it was the supernatural world that fought against each other, as us lowly hum
ans couldn’t do it for ourselves. Well, we certainly were good at lighting the way for their ‘entertainment’ weren’t we? I thought on a huff.
“I will have your held tongues now my gits and bitches, for the real fun is about to begin.” Marcus said as he took centre stage, arms open wide, like he was solely created to be there.
“For our first contender is not unknown, as you can all see the snakes that scar his skin. I give you the Master of the Ouroboros and with him his shadowed kin. For the power that he controls, it is a wonder we do not see him grin.” This part got a few laughs from the crowd but surprisingly most seemed to just stare at Sigurd with nothing short of awe and admiration. But one thing was definitely coming through and that was the excitement for the upcoming fight.
“But now I invite you to view our next contender and give your heads a spin. The mountain that mounts the steps is none other than Deumus Drekavac, so please cause a thunderous din.” At this the crowd went wild with shouting, fist pumping and feet stomping causing it to become a frightening background base for the snarling growls that were coming from the parted crowd. I looked up just in time to see an enormous form pushing back demons, sending rows sprawling to the floor before stepping up to the stage. He too jumped over the wires and his feet landed with a cracking thud that caused dust to rise in a small cloud around his bare feet.
“Oh shit!” I felt the words escape my lips and paid no attention to the response at my back. I couldn’t. I was frozen in suspended horror at Sigurd’s opponent. This guy made Sigurd look like a regular sized man and with him being 6’5” at least, I thought this was an unbelievable feat. But it wasn’t just his height, it was everything else, including the look that expressed only one emotion and that was clearly the intent to kill…no, not just the intent but more like the pure, raw…need. It was the rippling muscles that tensed, while waiting for the word ‘go’. It was the saliva that dripped from behind the teeth that couldn’t be contained in a closed mouth due to him panting like a rabid dog. But it was in his eyes, the eyes that wanted nothing more than to see the blood of his kill on his hands. Hell, he looked like he wanted to bathe in it!
This was when my heart started pounding.
“So, sit back and enjoy or cause a ruckus within. But whichever you do, place your bets, on the demon win!” At this, the same ladies fanned out amongst the crowd like before and started taking bets from the eager horde of demon spectators. This was obviously the cue for Sigurd to get ready and he did this by circling to stand directly opposite the one called Deumus Drekavac, whose drool was now coming down his chin in a long disgusting chain until it pooled on the dirt floor by his feet.
He stood at least three inches taller than Sigurd and instead of the massive broad shoulders and defined graceful ridges of muscle that tapered down into a slim waist, Sigurd’s enemy was just an undefined mass of bulk. He was like an old crone beaten with the ugly stick in her youth, who had got it on with a bull sized swamp thing and here now stood their love child! But when I say ugly stick, I actually mean a Being so ugly that his parents could have mass produced their own ugly sticks, ‘cause bloody Hell…this was one ugly ass dude, who was taking ugly asses to a whole new level!
His skin was wrinkled like he had spent a lifetime living in a stagnant pond which animals only used to take a shit in, not drink from! It was ghost grey and all his veins were shown through the thin layer of his translucent wet skin. If it wasn’t for the size and obvious strength in the raging creature of Hell, then I would say he looked ill. His head was devoid of hair and that too was wrinkled. Most of which gravity pulled down on his forehead in flappy swags of loose grey skin.
His eyes were two piercing black dots in a mist of dirty white, that were set deep into his large head. Like Sigurd, his clothing only consisted of trousers, only his were made from some sort of animal hide. Most of his chest was bare, but I couldn’t escape the sickening straps of leather that were sewn directly into his skin. Attached to these he had crude metal hoops and some thick chains that acted as some form of armour. This must have been covering a weak spot of his, as the skin underneath his ribcage was darker, with black veins spanning out as if poison had been injected there.
“Wh…who…is that?” I mumbled.
“That, my pale pet, is Deumus, the human soul gatherer of the Drekavac.” His deep voice informed me and then paused to swallow heavily at his bottled beer.
“And who is the ‘Dre…acvk?” I said knowing I hadn’t said it right, but not really caring considering I already hated the guy.
“The Drek…avac is a race of demons that are said to be created by the souls of those not of sound mind…” He corrected, then leaned into me and his voice once again did that soft rumbling that left little bumps along my exposed neck, when he spoke the rest,
“…crazed, deranged, mentally unbalanced and certifiably psychotic.” He pronounced each word with his lips at my ear and almost snapping out with his teeth, making me shrink further away. But with nowhere to go, I had no other choice than to sink myself closer into his hold. He seemed to like this, as I felt a growly purr behind me.
“He…he looks… insane.” I forced myself to say.
“Oh I will confirm that, he most certainly is, but well, considering the level he has gained through his gluttony of consumption, then for the Drekavac, madness lies hand in hand with the power they take from others…this, for the most, is why they are immune to their demise… the stronger their opponent, the stronger they become… so as you can imagine, fighting them has its difficulties…drink.” He finished by bringing his bottle round and holding it to my lips, lips he could see because his head rested above mine and was now cocked to the side, looking down at me. But hearing all I had about this dude made me snatch the bottle from his hand and down the whole thing! Jared laughed heartily behind me and when I came back up for air I passed the now empty bottle back and wiped the dripping beer from my lips using the back of my hand.
“We have to stop the fight!” I demanded and this was when Jared’s amusement ended and his hold on me became less of the comforting variety and more of the restraining kind.
“Calm yourself моя бледная красота” (means ‘my pale beauty’ in Russian) His foreign words combined with his strength anchoring me to him, made me put a stop to my struggles. Once I did this he took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh.
“I know you have no reason to trust in my words, for you do not know me, but trust in something else…I know about you and the future you may hold for me, so I would not harm you and although my explanation is vague, it will be understood soon. But first, I only ask for your faith in your friend.”
“But…my friend, he…he is powerful and if what you said…”
“Power is indeed great, on both sides of that ring, but Hell’s essence powering the muscle, flesh and bone of my world is nothing compared to the power of the mind, power which even a human can possess…” He raised his free hand, the one not still curled around my torso and shifted his long fingers through my hair, holding it all on one side back to speak his next words, words that finally comforted me,
“…and the insane are not often known for their intelligence.” This was the first time one of their kind had actually said anything remotely positive about a human and I found myself surprised that it had come from someone who was known for his dislike of humans. I was starting to open myself up to the idea of understanding the beast at my back.
There was some deeper meaning in his words. Also the rough use of his voice that was heard like velvet pulled amongst the jagged rocks in an effort to comfort me. The unyielding strength of solid muscle that was a contradiction to the soft and gentle rubbing his thumbs were playing, creating circles on my ribs. But more than that, was the trust he asked for and the trust I couldn’t help but give, even when my friend faced unbelievable odds at his command.
These thoughts were dragged from me as the girls had collected all their bets and Marcus was secu
ring them away in the black rock safe. This meant only one thing…
The fight was on.
Drums started to beat out something that sounded vaguely familiar but all my attention was glued to the two that had started to circle each other, both getting ready for the first move. Then the guitar added to the beat just as the Drekavac made his first move. He ran straight for Sigurd, bent over slightly as if readying himself to tackle Sigurd to the ground. But my friend was definitely quicker by side stepping and then spinning from the oncoming truck that was not only ugly but looked crazed!
The motion propelled the demon into the electrical current coursing through the wire and gave him a wakeup call of all wakeup calls. Sigurd widened his stance and then, after looking amazingly bored for a few seconds, he gave the furious Drekavac a head nod, almost asking for him to come at him and try again. That’s when my shock hit new limits as the band started to add lyrics to the song being played, just as Mr Ugly Ass ran at Sigurd and this time encountered his massive fist. I couldn’t help but blurt out the obvious,
“Seriously…Black Betty!?”
“What, not a fan of Ram Jam?” Was Jared’s only comment, referring to the song being played as a theme tune to match with the sleek moves Sigurd was planting on his fighting partner. After I didn’t answer I received a whispered,
“Or would you have preferred Marcus’ other choices?”
The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga) Page 33