by Tracey Ward
“Yeah, like what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, when you figure it out, let me know, alright?”
“I will,” I promise.
Chapman steps into the ring that’s being quickly cleared of fallen Risen. The next round is about to start and I wonder what his ‘surprise’ is going to be. I have a feeling it’s not going to be as impressive as he hopes it will be. We’ve been in this life for almost a decade now. Not much shocks us anymore.
“I’ll give it three more months,” Ryan bargains. “But then I’m signing to someone. I’m taking charge, no matter what you or Kevin say.”
I nod slowly in understanding, thinking, hoping, that a lot can happen in three months. “It’s your life.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Vin – Twenty-Seven
Being the Stable Boy for the Hive is more work than it looked like from the outside. It’s more than just collecting money and making sure no one gets roughed up. I’m a manager, a counselor, a brother, a bodyguard, and a friggin’ nurse. I have to keep track of the girls’ medical information, including their cycles, because birth control is gone. Condoms are dried, the Pill has disappeared, and I now know what a diaphragm is and that if it doesn’t fit right, it doesn’t work. So we’ve gone old school. Doc keeps careful track of their bodies and what they’re doing, and there are certain times of the month when each girl isn’t allowed to work.
But the system isn’t perfect. It never has been.
“You missed the last meeting,” Asher comments around a mouthful of bread. He’s leaning back in his seat, watching the Arena crowd instead of the Eleven in the ring. “Where were you?”
“With Breanne.”
“She okay?”
I shake my head tiredly. My butt is dragging. I was up with Breanne for hours last night while she cried. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I just sat with her. I let her bury her face in my shoulder, wetting it with hot tears and steaming sobs until she wore herself out. She fell asleep right there pressed against my side. I was afraid she’d wake up and start crying again if I moved, so I stayed. I spent the rest of the night with my legs going numb and my back aching, but it was nothing compared to the pain she was feeling. The fear that’s been eating at her. If I had to suffer a little to give her a break from that, I would. I did.
Breanne’s five months pregnant. She’s only nineteen, it’s the first pregnancy we’ve seen at the Hive in over a year, and the whole thing has her freaked out. The worst of it, though, isn’t what’s happening. It’s what’s coming.
It’s where that baby is going.
“She’s scared,” I tell him honestly.
“What’s she scared of? Having it or not having it?”
“Both.”
Asher grunts, swallowing hard. “I don’t envy her.”
“She’ll be alright.”
“You really think so?”
“That baby’s better off in the Colony. It wouldn’t last a minute out here in the wild.”
“No argument here, but I wasn’t asking about the baby. I’m askin’ about the girl. She’s younger than the rest and kinda fragile, if you ask me.” He looks at me sideways. “You think she’ll be alright?”
I bite down, clenching my teeth tightly. “I don’t know.”
He nods slowly, taking another bite of his bread. “Marlow gonna give her a cut?”
I laugh despite myself. “Are you kidding me? No.”
“He’s selling her baby and he’s not gonna give her a cut? That’s messed up.”
“That’s Marlow. I’m surprised he’s not charging her a fee for finding a buyer.”
“Chris Eleven!” Chapman shouts from inside the ring. My ring. “You’re up!”
“This idiot,” I mutter, glaring at Chapman.
“Hey,” Asher snaps, nudging my shoulder roughly. “Man, I asked you a question.”
“What?”
“What are they buyin’ kids for? We’re over here selling bodies ‘cause we can’t feed ‘em and they’re snatching ‘em up like they’re two-for-one or something. What do they want with ‘em?”
“Marlow says they’re doing it to save them from a life of sin and pain.”
“You buy that?”
I snort. “Hell no. I think they’re doing it for new blood. They only have so many members, only so many people for breeding, right? What if couples only have one kid? The next generation just got cut in half. Same thing will happen to the next and the next until there’s no one left, unless you want to start throwing monogamy out the window, but then you get into a messy situation of half-brothers and -sisters running around, no one sure who they’re related to or how close. Either way, incest is gonna be a given at some point. I think they’re planning ahead, same way farmers swap bulls to keep away from inbreeding and deformed calves.”
Asher looks at me in open amazement. “What the hell do you know about farming?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“Where’d you learn that?”
I yawn, stretching back in my seat. “Who remembers, man? I probably read it somewhere.”
“You read?”
“No.”
He laughs, tearing through his bread with another bite. “You’re a pain, V.”
“I get that a lot.”
The cage opens loudly, slamming shut even louder. Eleven is in. He’s a small guy, barely five-foot-nothing, but he’s fast. I remember the first time he asked me to fight in the Arena, I thought for sure he was going to die. That’s actually why I let him do it. They can’t all be winners. Sometimes you have to let a sheep go to slaughter to keep the crowd’s appetite up. Keep suspense in the air. Otherwise you get what we have now – an exhibition. Professional fighters showing off their moves for an underwhelmed audience unwilling to open their wallets for the chance to make a few pennies. Chapman has run my empire into the ground, and I think that this is part of my punishment. Marlow was so hell bent on watching me suffer that he handed my baby over to the most incompetent moron he could think of just so I’d have to watch it die. Slowly and painfully. Year after freaking year.
“Vin,” Nats says quietly, coming up on my left. “I’ve got a buyer.”
“Who is it?”
She juts her chin to the table in the corner. “The Westie with the black baseball hat.”
I eye the guy carefully, trying to remember his name. “You sold to him before?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
She smirks. “It’ll be over quick.”
“You want me to come back with you?”
“No. He’s no problem.”
“Alright. Send him my way. Room four is open.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in quick thanks before heading back to the table. I watch as they talk for a minute before Nats disappears to the back hall. Black Hat saunters over to me slowly. He’s trying to look tough but when his eyes meet Asher’s sitting there like a mountain next to me, he flinches faintly.
“What’s up, man?” I greet him evenly. “You lookin’ to square up?”
“Yeah. Fifteen, right?”
“Is that what she told you?”
“Yeah.”
“Must be right then.” I hold out my hand expectantly.
Black Hat pulls three dingy nickels from his pocket, dropping them into my palm.
I slowly lay them out on the table, leaving Jeffersons staring up at the ceiling between us.
Nobody uses paper money anymore. It gets wet and dirty and ripped. It blows away in the wind and leaves you pissed off and poor. It’s all about the coins now, a nickel meaning to us what a five-spot used to mean to the world.
“You know the rules?” I ask brusquely.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’m gonna tell ‘em to you again anyway. Number one, don’t hit my girls. Number two, don’t hit my girls. Number three – do you see where this is going?”
He nods stiffly. “Don’t hit t
he girls.”
“Don’t hit my girls, that’s right. She tells me you were rough with her in a way she didn’t enjoy, you’re out on your ass, blacklisted for life. You read?”
“I read.”
“Good man.” I swipe the nickels off the table, leaning to my left to stuff them in my back pocket. “Go have fun.”
Black Hat hurries off just as the room breaks into a smattering of applause.
“Looks like that Westie ain’t the only quickie in the house,” Asher comments, nodding to the cage. Eleven is making his exit, black blood smeared across the front of his blue T-shirt. “You’d think we were at the rodeo. Eight seconds or less!”
I frown, bringing my glass of whiskey to my lips. “Hyperion will put on more of a show.”
“He better. The night’ll be over before we can make any money off it.”
He’s not wrong. With the Arena failing, it’s starting to take its toll on other arms of our business. No one shows up for the fights, so booze isn’t selling. Gambling is drying up. Honey isn’t moving like it used to, and it’s not because people aren’t looking to get high anymore. It’s just that they don’t care about doing it at the Hive.
Lucky for the gang, the girls have had a massive turn around in profits since I took over. I killed Bennet’s No Market rule and started taking them out in the open. Business has been booming. We have a permanent tent at the end of the road that’s sold out every time. Some of the girls are booked up weeks in advance. I’ve managed to get just about every one of them out of debt. They’re healthier. They’re happier. They’re keeping this place afloat and they don’t get half the credit for it that they deserve.
None of us do.
“Kevin Hyperion! Enter the ring!”
“You got money on him?” Asher asks me curiously.
“Nah. I never bet anymore.”
He chuckles. “You’re part of the problem, baby.”
“Did you bet on him?”
“Against him.”
I sit back to stare at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”
“Figured why not?” He shrugs his big shoulders. “Might as well mix it up.”
“I hope you didn’t need that money ‘cause it’s gone.”
“I’ll live.”
Hyperion stretches out in the ring, making a show of his preparation. He smiles at the suddenly attentive crowd. Waves to his kid brother and the weird, quiet guy in the stands. They smile, waving back. One big happy family.
“You know what this surprise is that Chapman’s been talking about?” I ask Asher.
“Tonight’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I wonder if Marlow knows.”
“You think he’d be stupid enough to try something new without running it by Marlow?”
“Yes,” I reply with certainty. “Yes, I do.”
The door to the cage closes, locking Hyperion in. He lowers his head, swinging his arms loosely at his sides. People call his name to cheer him on. He grins, his eyes focused on the floor.
I cup my hands over my mouth and shout, “Let’s see it, Hyperion!”
“Bring it, baby!” Asher calls next to me.
“What the hell?” I laugh. “I thought you bet against him.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
I spot Freedom through the mesh and mess of the Arena, standing on the other side of the room with her eyes fixed on Hyperion. Her hands are pressed tightly against her mouth like she’s afraid of what will come out if she lets it.
“Yeah, you and everyone else in this room,” I tell Asher.
Chapman strolls proudly along the side of the cage. He’s grinning in a way that makes me want slap his face pink, it’s so irritating. He’s so smug I don’t know how he doesn’t choke on it. The sight of him in my Arena makes my stomach clench anxiously.
“We’ve reached the end of the night,” he announces in a normal tone, no yelling. He forces the room to quiet to listen to him and I think he finally might be learning. “We’re down to our last fighter. He’s the most impressive fighter in the history of the Arena. But we haven’t seen the surprise.” Chapman’s smile widens wickedly. “Are you ready to see it?”
The room roars with approval. Inside the ring, Hyperion cocks his head in confusion.
Whatever is coming, he wasn’t warned about it.
My stomach clenches harder.
“Then why wait? Let’s bring them out!”
As Chapman backs away from the cage, the back door snaps open.
The first thing I notice is the smell. There isn’t one. Normally the Risen stench is overpowering, especially sitting as close to the cage as me and Asher are, but there’s nothing. The second thing I notice is the growl. It’s not a Risen moan. It’s not dead. It’s alive and angry. Hungry.
I stand just as Hyperion backs away from the door. His eyes are wide, wild, as they search the darkness in the hallway.
“What’d you do, Chapman?!” I shout, outraged.
He doesn’t answer me. Or maybe he does and I just don’t hear him. I can’t over the snarl of the wolf stalking slowly into the Arena. That or the sharp bark of the second close on its heels.
They’re huge. Full grown and gray, their teeth bared.
The room is ripped to shreds by shouts and screams coming from all corners.
“No!”
“Kevin!”
“Fight!”
Chapman, Hyperion’s brother, and Freedom scream together. The only person in the room keeping his cool is Kevin. He’s silent and still, his eyes fixed steadily on the animals in the cage with him.
The first wolf lunges. It comes at him on his right, opening him up on the left. The second wolf immediately takes advantage. He grabs hold of Kevin’s left arm, sinking his long, white teeth into the soft skin of Hyperion’s arm. He grunts in pain. He stumbling to his knees. I’m relieved when he manages to land a hit on the wolf, right in the side under its ribs. Its hold on his arm slips as it yelps angrily. Kevin is free for all of a second before the first wolf is on him again, it’s long body rising up on its hind legs until it’s as tall as a full-grown man. With claws like razors, paws the size of saucers, it comes down on top of him. He’s able to roll free at the last second, two claws cutting down his back viciously. Blood blossoms on his shirt. He backpaddles across the ground, putting his back to the edge of the Arena. He’s panting, bleeding, and terrified, and it’s amazing how deeply the sight cuts me. I’ve seen a lot of men die in the ring. I made my living on it for a long time, but they never went down like this. They all knew what they were getting into. They weren’t tricked into dying for another man’s failings.
This is not the way the Hyperion deserves to die.
I push through the crowd that’s risen to their feet. I’m at the door, pulling on the handle, just as the second wolf makes another move for Hyperion. He kicks his feet up just in time, tossing it to the side as it soars through the air toward him. It lands on its side and like lightening, Hyperion is on top of it. He grabs its head in his massive hands and immediately bashes it against the concrete.
Once.
Twice.
Motionless.
The wolf goes slack, it’s body relaxing. Dying.
The door is jammed. Locked.
“Chapman!” I shout angrily. “Unlock this door! Now!”
He doesn’t answer me. I search the crowd for him, ready to tear him apart to get that key, but I can’t find him.
“Chap—”
“NO!!!”
Freedom throws herself at the side of the cage. I can feel it rattle all the way to the door and into my hand just as clearly as I feel her scream in my skull. It vibrates at an impossible pitch, more animal than human. More feral than the wolf inside the cage.
The great, gray wolf with its jaw latched around Kevin’s bleeding throat.
CHAPTER SIX
Trent
The night is dark. Moonless. It’s almost impossible to see anything even a few feet
in front of you. It’s a bad night to be out. Especially alone.
But Ryan isn’t alone. I haven’t left his side for the last two months, even if he doesn’t always know I’m there. But with Kevin dead and Ryan’s world shattered around him, the important thing is that I am. Always. Every night when he waits for the rest of us to fall asleep, when he sneaks out the window of the room he used to share with his brother, I follow him. I moved in with him to keep him company but also to keep an eye on him because he’s my responsibility now. Now that Kevin’s gone.
That fact is hard to digest. It still sits like a stone in my stomach and I wonder if I’ll ever be rid of it. I still carry the death of my dad with my everywhere I go, so odds are Kevin isn’t likely to leave me anytime soon. Eventually I’ll lose so many people I’ll end up with a gut full of rubble that will weigh me down into the grave to find them again.
Ryan slips through the streets with a knife in his hand and a vacant look in his eyes. The only thing he can see is the wolf, the one that killed his brother, but he can’t find it so he sees nothing. No one. Not even in broad daylight. There’s an emptiness in his stare that unnerves even me. People are afraid to talk to him, afraid to say the wrong thing, searching for the right words to make everything better, but it’s useless. As useless as searching for this wolf. There are no right words. There is no bringing him back. Kevin is dead.
We burned his body. There was no chance he was going to rise, but it’s still the way things are done. No one is buried. You burn every corpse you find, regardless of who they were or what they meant to you. Freedom was there, surprising everyone. One of the other Hive girls came with her, their arms linked together tightly for support. Their faces ashen. Their eyes red. The Westies showed. All of them. There were a couple of Elevens.
No Pikes. No Hornets.
Ryan was a wreck. He tried to hold it together but the loss was too much. No amount of bravado or pride could cover the hole dug inside his chest. He cried for days before going numb, and by that time I was grateful for it. It was the first sign of a wound starting to heal. The nerves were no longer raw. They were going dead and, in time, they’ll scar over. They’ll never be right but at least they won’t ache with every breath he takes.