by D N Simmons
“Naw, that's okay. We'll catch a cab. I would hate for her to puke in your car. Look, let me get your number and we'll get together,” Annette said as she headed toward the coat-room to get their coats. The man gave her his telephone number, offering once again to give them a ride home. Annette refused, but thanked him for his kindness. She walked back to her friend, who looked even worse now than she had a few minutes before. Annette really started to worry about Natasha. She believed Natasha never finished her Long Island. She assumed she had a full stomach, or at least she hoped Natasha had eaten something before coming to the club. If she had not, it would account for Natasha's sudden sickness.
She walked back to the other woman. After assisting Natasha with her coat before putting on her own. Sliding her arm around her friend's waist, she led her out of the club. A drunk man bumped the two women, causing Natasha to stumble, but Annette caught her. The man dropped his car keys and Natasha picked them up. The world seem to spin but she kept her feet on the ground. She looked at the man, who seem to be barely able to stand himself.
“I can't let you drive, you're drunk,” she said, her words slightly slurred as she held the man's car keys in her hand.
“Give me my keys, bitch. I don't need no one looking after me,” he said, his speech heavily slurred. He angered Natasha; drunk drivers always did. She felt that if a drunk driver caused an accident, they should be charged with attempted murder. If they killed someone, they should get the premeditated murder rap for certain. They should be made to face the death penalty. She thought that might help with toning down people like the man in front of her.
“No, I'm not giving your drunk ass these keys. Annette, take these to the bartender, I'll wait right here.” Natasha handed the keys to her friend, who took them with a look of concern. She wasn't so sure she wanted to leave Natasha in the same area with this man. She knew Natasha was doing the right thing.
“You wait here, I'll be right back,” Annette said, disappearing into the club. The angry drunk man followed, cursing Natasha as he disappeared inside. Annette returned shortly, going to the side of her friend.
“Geez, what a jerk. I hate assholes who drink and drive,” Annette said as she flagged down a cab. Natasha couldn't agree more. They climbed into the cab. While Annette gave directions, the cab took off headed in the direction of their three-story apartment building on the southeast side of the city. The traffic was unusually heavy for that time of night and Natasha drifted off to sleep. They were about four blocks from the club when Natasha had a vision of dropping her keys on the ground, then fumbling for them. Then the next vision she saw, she was driving. The lanes seem to fade in and out. She had her lights on and the lights from the passing cars were so bright, so blinding. She saw a yellow car in front of her, not moving. The lane seemed to go on forever, then there wasn't enough lane. Her foot slammed on the brakes but not in enough time. She felt herself being propelled forward, then everything faded to blackness.
Natasha opened her eyes, unnerved by the dream. She looked up at the cab driver who seemed to be confused as he looked through his rear view mirror. She looked at the mirror and was blinded by bright lights. Seconds later, the cab was rear-ended and knocked off the road. The cab continued to fishtail until it hit a tree, knocking it over. The tree fell onto the cab, pinning both Natasha and Annette inside. Both women were knocked unconscious.
CHAPTER 8
Darian walked down the dimly lit hallway until he reached a huge tapestry on the wall. He brushed the tapestry to the side to reveal a small sensor in the wall. He pressed his hand to the sensor. As the red light at the bottom of the sensor turned blue, a hidden door slid open exposing an elevator. Pulling a key out of his pocket, Darian stepped inside, inserting it into the slot on the elevator panel to start it downward. One level down, he exited and walked down another short L-shaped corridor to his private skybox overlooking an octagon shaped arena. He settled into one of the four comfortable leather chairs facing the clear glass paneled wall. He looked around the arena to see that the soft cushioned seats were already full and everyone was anticipating the tournament. All the bets had been made. One could bet on a fighter per night, thus increasing their chances of winning. Or they could pick a Champion to win the whole tournament and receive one lump sum. There was a little under one hundred million dollars to be won this night, which was very good for an opening night. Darian had already placed his bet on the fighter known only as Draco. Xavier had been most impressed by the fighter's skill, so Darian had chosen Draco as his champion.
It never ceased to amaze Darian that the human race would, no doubt, do just about anything for money. They put a price tag on their own lives. Darian had never met one vampire that would name the price of their own immortality. Darian figured mortals thought they were immortal, that life will always grant them another day. Until, of course, their last day came before they could blink their eyes. Darian no longer worried about having his life snuffed out so easily. It would take a lot more than a virus to kill him, of that he was pleased.
The announcer came out through sliding double doors with two beautiful female vampires. Dressed in red sequined bikinis and top hats, white sequined bow ties and matching six inch heels, they stood by his side, hands on their hips. The announcer wore a red sequined tux with tails, matching hat and a white silk shirt with matching gloves. He was a tall male with black hair and pale skin. Though he wasn't a vampire, he could easily pass for one. Vampires are always pale before their first feeding. Then when their bodies are filled and warmed with blood, they can pass easily amongst the human race. A very observant human can detect the subtle differences in skin and hair textures and the shine of a vampire's eyes.
The announcer ordered some film footage of the fighters to be run on the huge television suspended over the arena. The crowd 'oohhhed' and 'ahhhed' as they witnessed the talents of the new tournament fighters. There were a mixture of female and male martial artists and grappling street fighters. Darian could hear a few murmurs of those who wished they could change their bets. He smiled. Too late, he thought. The footage ended, the crowd hushed, everyone waited for the theatrics the announcer provided. The lights dimmed to darkness, leaving only one spotlight on the announcer. He looked around the crowd as he raised the microphone to his mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you are in for a treat. Once again, we have gathered all of the world's best fighters to battle it out over the next three days, for a total grand prize of five million dollars!!!” he said with raised hands. The crowd cheered and applauded. Darian laughed and clapped as well. He liked the energy from the audience. It was an appetizer to the hunt, or in this case, since he had fed already, it was more of a dessert.
“Tonight, we begin a new tournament with twelve vicious fighters, all willing to tear each other's hearts out for that money. I hope you have placed your bets, ladies and gentlemen, and I hope you have placed them well, because there is no way of telling who will win the 'Champion of Gods Tournament!!!’” Once again, the crowd cheered and applauded. “Now, without further ado, let us begin.” He turned to face the sliding double doors as they opened, and a female walked out into the arena. She was tall, about six-feet, two-inches. She reminded Darian of the fabled “Amazon” women. Her dark olive skin was scarred. She had two large scars, one on each cheek. A long, ragged looking scar trailed her left shoulder, down her arm to her wrist.
She carried a chain as her choice of weaponry. Her hair was cut short, just an inch shy of a “buzz” cut. Her brown eyes reflected only two things: greed and confidence. Darian couldn't wait to see her opponent. He never saw any of the people chosen for the tournament. He left the hand picking to Xavier. He seemed to enjoy the auditions more so than Darian. The announcer began to give her statistics.
“Coming to the arena, is a behemoth of a woman, standing at six-feet-two-inches, one-hundred and eighty-five pounds of lean mean muscle. Her weapon of choice is a chain whip. She vows to rip the skin off of her oppon
ent with her trusted weapon. Put your hands together for Viper!!!” He yelled her name to pump up the crowd. It worked. The crowd cheered, stamped their feet and applauded. Viper held her hands in the air and whipped her chain around one good time before the crowd hushed, all eyes on the door again and the announcer.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the arena, a man that stands at the staggering height of six-feet, six-inches, two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds of hard hitting muscle. He has no weapon, the only weapon he says he needs are his bare hands. Please put your hands together for Draco!!!” The arena burst with cheers and jeers. Darian settled comfortably in his chair, putting his feet up on the leather footstool. The lights illuminated, filling the arena with brightness. The announcer and female vampires (that had gestured to each entering fighter) left the arena floor. At the sound of a buzzer, the two fighters circled each other like two lions preparing for battle.
Darian suspected that was how every living being prepared for battle. He had caught himself doing it in the past when he had been challenged for territory or another vampire wanted to take him to make him their slave. They soon found out he was not an easy target. Darian leaned forward to get a better view as the two fighters collided, the taller man knocking the female to the ground. She regrouped quickly, rolling away from his huge foot which was trying to follow up the first blow with another. She swung her whip, catching Draco across the face, slicing open the skin, blood started to ooze from the wound. Darian caught the first whiff of that succulent scent, and was thankful he had fed already.
The fighter touched his cheek wiping away some of the blood. Bringing his fingers to his lips, his tongue darted out to lick the blood away. The fighters smiled at each other, pleased with the effect of their approach. Draco charged her suddenly, she whirled her whip around striking him across the chest. She whipped it around several times, each blow striking various parts of his body, leaving bloody trails seeping out of the wounds over his skin. Darian was beginning to wonder if he'd made a wise bet. It most certainly would not be the first time that he lost a few million on the wrong fighter. He tried to pick his fighters based on their lust for blood, their ruthlessness and above all...greed. He had seen lesser skilled fighters walk away with the prize. However, he was expecting more out of his pick for tonight's match.
Draco caught her whip in his hand, attempting to yank it from her. Viper had double wrapped the whip around her knuckles so tight that the harder he pulled the whip, the more it began to cut into her skin. Darian could see the blood oozing out of the cuts that were getting deeper the harder Draco pulled on the chain. In one final tug, Draco pulled Viper close to him, causing her to lose her balance. He punched her hard in the stomach, causing her to gasp and cough as she struggled to bring air back into her lungs. Darian heard her ribs crack when the blow had struck. He wondered how much longer Viper would be in the match. The intestinal fortitude of human beings to survive never ceased to amaze him, it was only matched by their hunger for money and power. She wanted that money as much as Draco did. Viper rolled away from the follow-up attack. Draco was stronger, he wasn't faster. As she rose, Draco punched her in the face, knocking her against the thick Plexiglas wall of the arena. Her blood splattered the wall as he punched her again, her body falling against the walls as she tried to roll away. She pulled a knife from her boot. Darian smiled at the deviousness of it all. There were no rules in the coliseum, it was kill or be killed, win or lose, live or die. Viper waited for her opponent to approach her before shoving the blade deeply into his groin and twisting it.
The tall muscular man screamed gutturally. His eyes closed tightly as his mind registered the damage. His hand swung out, catching Viper hard across the cheek, knocking out three of her teeth. The crowd erupted with hoots and jeers as the two battled on. Blood stained the arena floor and glass walls. Darian smiled, day one of the tournament was only beginning. There were five more matches for the night. Draco pulled the six-inch blade out of his groin, grimacing all the while. He rose hunched over, blood dripping profusely from the wound, making a puddle between his legs.
Viper had risen to her feet, spitting the blood from her mouth onto the floor. She grimaced, revealing a dark area where her teeth used to be. Her face had begun to bruise and swell. Her nose had been broken and her skin was cut above her left eyebrow. The vicious wound was dripping blood into her eye, causing her to blink constantly to clear her vision. Draco had bloody wounds all over his upper chest and calves, a huge bloody stain in the front of his pants. His nose had also been broken.
As he tried to walk toward her, his legs gave out. He had lost too much blood and the pain in his groin was crippling. Grabbing his groin, he fell over onto his side. His skin began to pale as the blood continued to pour out of the open wounds. The announcer entered the arena again, the crowd cheered and applauded, some knew what was going to follow. The moment they had all been waiting for, the winner and the loser, the one who would leave the arena tonight the victor and ten-thousand dollars richer. The fighter who was left was the one whose life depended on their generosity. Many had lost tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars, some even millions on this fight. Darian had been most disappointed. It proved the old adage true, you simply can't judge a book by its cover. It was one thing Darian admired about women. They were damned resourceful. He had lost a million dollars on Draco. Though he was tempted to participate in his fate, he decided to stick with his own tradition, sitting back to watch as the crowd cheered and booed the fallen fighter.
“We have the winner of this match, ladies and gentlemen! Viper!!!” The announcer said as he gestured toward the tall, battered woman. She would, no doubt, need all the rest she could get, as she had two more fights over the next two days to come. Viper held her hands in the air. She had won the ten thousand dollar prize for the preliminaries, but her goal was the five-million grand prize. The crowd began to hush as the announcer raised his hands for silence. The lights dimmed slightly, adding ambiance to the arena. He stood over the prone body of Draco.
“Ladies and gentleman, here we have the fallen opponent. He fought. He failed. You decide!” He pointed around the arena. The faces he pointed at smiled, nodded and applauded. “You decide if he shall live or die.” The crowd raised to their feet, cheering. Darian inhaled deeply as the scent of blood pumping in their bodies, rushing to their heads, filled the arena.
“Shall he live?” The announcer held his thumb pointed upward. As the crowd booed, only a few cheers and claps could be heard over the disappointed crowd, “or shall he die?” His thumb turned downward, the audience burst into a roar of applause and cheers. The announcer gave Viper a slow nod, walking away from the prone man. The sound of the excited audience thundered throughout the arena as Viper picked up her chain whip and wrapped it around the dying man's neck. She pressed both feet on his back, pulling with all her might as he struggled weakly, fingers clawing at the chain, trying to free himself from the pressure. His eyes bulged, pupils dilated, chest heaved one last time, then all the air in his lungs emptied as the crowd rose to their feet in thunderous applause, pleased that they had played God. Draco's body was dragged from the arena floor as the announcer returned to introduce the next two fighters.
“I knew I'd find you here, Darian,” a soft, female voice said with a hint of a French accent. Darian knew who it was, he didn't need to turn around. He could smell her even before she entered his private box seat. He smiled, held his hand out, gesturing to the chair next to his.
“Elise...how are you this evening?” he asked, turning to face the feline beauty at his side. His beautiful green eyes roaming over her sumptuous body.
“I'm feeling fine, even better now that I'm finally in your presence. It's unfortunate that you're a vampire, I always have to wait until sunset to see your beauty...to feel your touch.” She took his hand, pressing his knuckles to her lips, she kissed them gently. Darian smiled. He had helped her once and was taken by her beauty and aristocratic charm. Although he di
dn't doubt his sexual power to seduce, he had never expected Elise to become so entranced with him.
“You've just missed a very good match. I've managed to lose a million dollars on a fighter I was most certain would win or at least make it to the next round. This just proves that even I can be wrong...once in a while.” He smiled. Elise, still holding Darian's hand, ran his fingertips down the front of her shirt. She pressed his palm over her left breast so that he could feel her rapid heartbeat and her mounting passion.
“I see you've missed me very much, no?” he asked as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her breast.
“Oui, I have. Do we have to stay here and watch these matches? Don't you want to sweep me off of my feet, whisk me away to your bedroom and make love to me until the sun rises?” she asked in her most enticing tone. She climbed slowly out of her seat and onto Darian's lap, her skirt rising above her hips to her waist.
“I would love to sweep you off your feet and whisk you away but I think it would be more exciting for both you and I to have sex right here, right now. I'm sure you can smell the blood in the air, feel the fear and excitement of the arena. I can feel it, can you?” Darian asked as he ran his fingertips lightly over her jaw line. He ran his right hand down her back, bringing goosebumps over the surface of her skin.
“Yes, I can,” she said breathlessly as she leaned forward, kissing Darian deeply. Her tongue probing the inside of his mouth caressing his tongue. Their lips remained locked together as they fondled each other, letting their hands explore each other's heated flesh. Darian removed her sheer black shirt, wanting to see the black leather bra that covered her pale bosom. Her own hands sought the buttons of his shirt and undid each one before sliding the black shirt slowly off of his broad shoulders.