“If the police caught wind of this, they'd be obliged to snuff it out, yeah. But chances are, we've got a few policemen here who don't give a shit.”
She's still frozen as the bodies are carted out of the arena. Intense, bloody fighting, as everyone scrambled for weapons. She'd watched as three of the Hunters grouped together, then turned on one another after the Hunted was taken. Sometimes they don't. They might come to an agreement on who gets the final prize money or how it's split, who gets to be converted.
Most often – they're too greedy and too mistrustful to allow others to stand in their light.
“You want to walk around, eavesdrop on a few people?” I nudge her, hands gentle on her shoulder. She seems to come to herself – remembers her purpose, swallows and nods.
Good girl. Almost a shame she wasn't born a shifter.
We eventually throng our way to make our second set of fake bets. I'm only drawing an extra fifty dollars for my win, and that was after I chose to bet two hundred. Good odds for him, after all. Emma's trying to listen in, but it's clear she's not getting the information she wanted. I wonder how close she is to trying to call in the authorities. She was allowed in because she was mine and Edric's guest, but alone, they'd never have let her in. I won't call the police, because I have too many murky dealings of my own, and Edric's got ten years’ worth of jail time for his doings.
But Emma's squeaky clean. She's got nothing invested, and therefore nothing to lose. Except her life, if they find out who she is, and if she betrays them. I wonder if Lisa Arrow did ever dip into these circles. She might have been stolen by any one of the thugs we look upon. Eventually, Emma tries talking to some of the others, but they give her the cold shoulder for the most part and shut down the moment she starts asking too-intrusive questions. Leaving a trail of suspicion, and a storm brewing over her head.
“This isn't working out the way I hoped,” she mutters, now chewing on her thumb cuticle. “I thought finally getting into something like this would help me find out more, but no one talks, and I just feel like I need to keep watching my back in case someone slips a knife there.”
“You don't look the part,” I tell her. “But then again, it'd be impossible for you. Even if you dress yourself up as a homeless junkie, you'll be another kind of target. You see all the women here – they're accompanied by cousins, relatives, partners. None are alone.” She glances around unhappily at my proclamation, seeing the evidence for herself. There also seems to be a bubble of frustration building in her. Desperation, even.
Probably getting pressure from her boss.
The new contestants start to spill out, and we see their faces plastered on the wall screens. Three women this time, five men, another sorry bunch, but no real clear betting winners. Best odds are two to one, but there's doubt cast in the man's direction for it. I know around they do some exclusive Hunts. All men, all women. The Honor Hunt itself prefers that in the end of year hunt.
The Hunted finally stumbles out of his entrance on the other side of the labyrinth of fake trees, ropes, bulging walls, raised platforms and hidden treasures. Another haunted look. Gods, he's even more wretched than the first one. Amber eyes, too.
Emma gives a quiet gasp, a moan, and she's tugging on my sleeve. “I have to call.”
Edric and I look at her, confused. “What?”
“That's...” Emma's wild with fear and anticipation, “that's Richard's brother.”
The jeers of the crowd drown in the rush of blood to my ears. Throat dry, I examine the emaciated Hunted, who now seems to be swaying on the spot, as if he can't keep himself steady. “No fucking way.”
“I have –” she fumbles for her phone, “I need to call the police. How long until they're here? We can't watch his brother die!”
Edric and I glance at each other again. Need to think. Richard finds out I saw his little brother in the arena get killed, there'll be a death fight. Police come, they'll try get the records of everyone who attended this place – though most of us use false names. I try to crash, they've got snipers and trained killers ready to put down anyone who dares upset the balance.
“Better get out of here,” I hiss softly to Edric. “And give that to me.” I snatch her phone out of her clammy hands, taking a deep breath. Collecting my courage. “Looks like we're about to cause a riot.”
Emma
I honestly thought Richard's brother to be dead. I took it for granted, hearing the way Tarren spoke, seeing the way Richard played with his remaining token, his face a shroud, a living funeral for the brother that he missed.
In twenty minutes, he'll be stuck like a pig. He'll be killed in the cellar of some hideous underground event. He'll be dead in the short window we realize he's still alive.
I have so much evidence. I can write all of this down. I've been snapping discreet pictures. But what's one rat's nest out of dozens more? What's one underground death pit, when humans have hundreds themselves, for animals and fighters?
And now Tarren has my phone, and he's calling the police. He doesn't pause for a second after finishing the call, now phoning Richard to tell him, “I've found your brother. He may be dead in ten minutes. But I'll do what I can.”
Edric, white with fear, now tumbles towards the exit, holding a pack of cigarettes in his hand like an excuse token.
“Follow me,” Tarren says, his eyes fever-bright, his fingers almost crushing my shoulder.
“But we have to stop this.” My teeth chatter. The Hunt's started. Tomas Forge launches himself into the maze with slick terror, searching for weapons. Why can't I control my own shivering?
“Follow me!” Tarren hisses, now pulling me away from the barrier. I stagger after him, legs as heavy as iron, and he pulls me right up to a high-rise seat in the arena, one which I'd occasionally glanced to. The person who organized the whole sordid business. Bile rises in my throat. Sweat beads my forehead. The guards with their guns, the same guns that apparently shifters hate, bristle as we make a beeline towards them.
“You need to call this off,” Tarren yells, puffing out the roar, drawing the man's attention to him. A man with glittering rings on his fingers, with the clan tattoo of a tiger upon his knuckles. “Now!”
The tiger man smiles, but there's no warmth. Oh fuck. What have I got myself into? Why did I choose to come here? Why did I choose to come here on the same day Tomas Forge was offered as a Hunted?
Tomas's face is dancing across two screens now, as he picks up a spear, hands shaking. He hasn't got the muscle of a fighter. Maybe if he had his dragon form, but he's not allowed to shift –
“A man has called the police to this very location,” Tarren roars again, and this time, the tiger hesitates, eyes glinting with a cold light. “A man who was undercover, looking for a councilman's brother. The very brother who is in this arena right now!” Tarren jabs a finger towards the pale features of Tomas Forge. “Or do you mean to tell me that you don't recognize his face, Janus?”
Janus's hairy face twitches. His golden hair seems to bristle upon his wide head. There's the faintest hesitation, the slightest crinkle of his eyebrows. “You are sure? This is the councilman's brother?”
Tarren stands, all fury and fire, not backing down. There's three guns pointed in his direction, but he stands without a trace of fear. Meanwhile. I barely keep my legs from collapsing underneath me, my heart from leaping out of my mouth, or my guts pooling into my feet.
“Fuck,” Janus hisses. “Dead or alive, he is a problem.” Janus snaps his fingers, before seizing a microphone. “Believe me. I had no hand in this arrangement.”
Tarren didn't exactly appear convinced, but he nodded all the same.
Janus brought the microphone to his lips. “Attention, everyone! Attention! Call this event off,” he snapped. “Stop the Hunt. The police are coming. Get everyone evacuated. Now!”
It takes a moment for the words to register in the others, but when they do, there's curses, yelling, and confusion. The Hunters and Hunted don't rea
lize, but it's only when an alarm starts blaring that they all tumble to a confused halt in the maze, and maybe some bodiless voice announces to them of imminent trouble.
“Did you call the cops?” Janus narrows his eyes at Tarren, even as everyone starts scrambling. More than one exit, I can see now.
“Yes,” Tarren says, and I stifle a gasp. “And trust me, I did you a favor. The councilman spares no expense in the search for his brother.”
“And are you his mad dog?” Janus bares his teeth in an unpleasant snarl. “I've a mind to kill you where you stand and take that bitch behind you.”
“I'm not after your wares, Janus. My task is solely to preserve my own interests and having a dead councilman's brother upon my watch serves none of them.
“I'll get the wretched boy cast out,” Janus says. “But you're not welcome to my events anymore, Tarren Vale. I see you, you're dead.”
Tarren laughs. “Or perhaps you'll be the dead one.”
Both of them have nothing but hatred for one another. Then the tiger shifter speaks again. “Who are you, then?” Janus takes a sudden sniff as he gets off the chair, having waited for the others to stream past. With horror, I realize he's addressing me. “Caked in that stink.” He freezes. Tarren lets out a soft growl, which seems to reverberate inside him with an awful kind of finality, like he's one step away from reaching this tiger's head and ripping it off.
“Oh, Tarren... you should know better than to have someone like her around.”
Grinning treacherously, Janus stalks past, making me feel as if a cold shadow has passed over me.
He knows.
He knows what I am.
And I'm a stupid idiot. I'm so stupid. I prioritized Richard's brother over my own mission.
Fuck. The fear slices through me, even as Tarren yanks me away, flinging me over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, no ceremony whatsoever. There's a blur of bodies, and my hands are slick, gripping onto Tarren's shirt as he lurches towards one of the side exits.
The police are going to arrive to an empty stadium. They're going to find beers half-drank, coffees still warm, and blood in the arena, old stains and new.
The thoughts worm themselves through my mind past the thumping of fear, the knee-jerk sour sensation in my stomach. Tarren cost this Janus his business. An expensive arena, no doubt. And the police will secure its position.
He risked his neck too.
But why?
What does he gain from this?
He advances, breath panting, not stopping. Through the door. His elbow clips the wall as he hurtles up the stairwell, but he doesn't stop. Even when we're out into the street, clear of the shabby, unimposing dwelling, and the rusty back yard door that swings open as he kicks it.
As soon as he's clear, he breaks into a casual walk, and puts me down next to him. “Never look guilty when you're getting away from a scene.” His hand grips mine, like we're casual lovers strolling through the streets. Cars honk ahead along the main roads, and people can be seen in greater quantities. Other criminals don't seem to be following Tarren's advice, sprinting like their asses are on fire.
“He knows who I am.”
“Yep.” Tarren smiles at a little girl clutching her mother's hand, and she gapes up at him. I feel just as small as her, just as scared as her, though Tarren himself doesn't appear perturbed in the slightest. “So perhaps you're best off avoiding venues like that again. And apparently I am as well.”
I lick my lips, terrified of the thought now of returning to my boss empty handed. “Why did you tell them that they were about to be raided?”
Now his eyes settle upon mine, and we pause in the middle of the street. Police sirens wail along the road. Four vehicles. Five. Six.
“If I didn't, then Tomas Forge would surely be dead. That's all you need to know.”
“But...” I don't understand. I just don't understand his motivation. “It fucks you up. How does it help you at all?”
He shakes his head, placing a finger now to my lips. “Too many questions.”
I've nothing but them.
I can't shake the image of Janus Stronghand out of my head. His sneer, his assessment of me. Nor the way Tarren stood up to him. The way Tarren went along with my silly scheme, let me watch people die in front of my eyes...
Tarren wraps his arm around me, and I realize I'm trembling. Unable to process. It's all part of the job. Shouldn't be worried at all. Should get used to seeing things like that.
And all I have are dim pictures of people gathered underground, blood burned on the back of my eyelids, and a cold shiver that doesn't go away.
No matter how warm Tarren's arms are.
Richard
My brother's a shadow of his former self. I kneel by his side in the hospital room, and my father's sitting in the chair, his sunken amber eyes even more exhausted than before. Needle marks track along his wasted muscles. Voluntary? Against his wishes? He tried to fight against drugs. Never thought he'd be one to start injecting them.
He'd been alive. All this time. Alive and suffering. Turned into bait for Hunters. A dragon, beaten into a shivering wreck of a worm, leavings for humans desperate for conversion.
So close to death. My blood runs cold every time I replay Tarren's low, rushed message. When I realize what that son of a bitch did. He's got me in honor debt so deep that I might never crawl out of it again.
I don't own him anymore.
He owns me.
“I was wrong,” Arthur says, his voice cracking. The age seeps through it. “I had thought...”
“So did I,” I rasp, throat too choked up to manage anything else. I'd been avoiding it as much as possible, but honestly – I didn't think Tomas would be alive. Then I got that call. That electric shock to my heart, kicking it into action. I'd been rooting around the other underground Hunt the foxling told me about, but I needed contacts to get in. I'd been considering paying one of Tarren's little minions to get in there and look, but I wasn't sure just who I could trust.
Not Tarren, anyway. Definitely not him.
“He looks terrible. I know I thought him errant and a fool, but I never...” Arthur reaches a liver spotted hand and pats my brother's – his son's – forehead. “Without a body to look at, I could ignore the consequences. Over 700 years old, you'd think I'd be used to the notion of my children dying.” There's such a harsh sob in my father's throat that I just stare at him for a moment. He normally keeps everything cocooned inside. He doesn't allow weakness. He was one of the former founders of Animusa. He helped plan it out with the other shifters – and now he's the only remaining founding father.
Small he may be, but his shadow is long.
At least my brother's alive. My silly, honorable brother. No doubt the press will be clawing for information out of him, and so will the police. What a story for the others, too. The brother of a councilman, taken and fed to a bloodsport after going missing.
Apparently, the police didn't catch anyone, so there's some frustration from their end.
If Tarren hadn't called. If – and I don't want to think about Emma's betrayal in the whole mess, because if she hadn't been there either...
My brother would be dead for certain.
I take one last look at my brother, before gathering my wits together, and preparing to leave. “There's someone I must talk to,” I tell father, and he merely nods. He's not going to leave his child.
Maybe he does have a heart after all.
Before I leave the door, however, there's a sharp intake of breath from my father. “Son. Stop. Stop. Look!”
Hand frozen upon the door handle, I turn back to see my brother's eyes open, squinting from the light. A groan escapes his lips. My hand unclasps the handle.
Guess I'm not leaving yet, then. Not until I hear the story from my brother's lips.
ACT TWO
Two men continue to war in my heart.
Powerful, sexy, and thrilling – but I don’t know if it can work out between us. Being kidnap
ped doesn’t help much, either…
We still haven’t found Lisa Arrow. We did rescue Richard’s brother from the clutches of an illegal Hunt, and he has connections with Lisa Arrow. Lovers, apparently. But having an idea of where she is doesn’t help – because she’s in the clutches of Janus Stronghand. A particularly nasty tiger shifter from the underworld. One that Tarren has issues with.
I still want to find her. And I still want to figure out what the hell is going on between me, Tarren and Richard. I can’t possibly fall for two men after all, can I?
Even if they’re both as sexy as hell. Even if they leave me breathless and shivering after our horizontal activities…
Emma
It’s good to see my mother again. She’s been worried about me. For all my attempts to hide my previous job, to tell her that everything’s okay, she picked up on some hidden signals – signals I tried so hard to hide. But as someone training previously to be a Profiler, I should have remembered the best Profilers are moms and dads with their children. They’ve been learning your tells since birth, and if they paid any attention to you at all, your secrets are marked all over your skin like a road map. Your every nervous tick is another confession waiting to happen.
“You could have told me, you know,” my mother says, her mouth twisted in an agitated line. I’ve been doing that expression a lot, too. Picking up all sorts of behavioral cues from her. I took after my dad in features more. She’s got that dumpy, half-made look about her face, the kind that welcomes you into a home, but won’t be winning any beauty contests any time soon. My dad on the other hand, has such delicate features he could almost be feminine.
Should have been born a woman, that one.
“You don’t have to help me pack, I’m fine,” I tell her, but she ignores me anyway and stuffs some embarrassing old underwear into my suitcase. “I’m not five anymore.”
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