by A. R. Ford
Nyssa led Luca along the decaying streets. They dodged potholes, mudpuddles, and other debris. They made no stops at the general store, saloon, or any of the other businesses established there.
The entrance to the Catacombs lay at the western end of town. A steep incline led to the main entrance flanked by armed guards. Luca’s fingers bit into her hand as they passed through the entrance.
The dank smell of mold and decay filled the darkness broken only by torches set in brackets at random intervals. Dripping water echoed through the network of tunnels.
Their first interaction with one of the crawlers, as residents of the Catacombs were called, came less than fifty feet into the main tunnel. A man nearly as tall as Luca leaned redolently against the wall. A match flared as they drew closer. A cigarette glowed red, acrid smoke trailing upward.
“How much?” the man offered.
Luca stopped walking, the tension in his body communicated through his grip on Nyssa’s hand. He turned to face the man. “For what?” he growled.
“The girl. She looks young, tight. I’d like a taste.” The man took a step toward Nyssa and made the mistake of putting a hand on her breast. The stench of his fetid breath and body nearly made her vomit.
Luca’s movement was swift and sure. His left hand caught the man’s shoulder followed by a clenched fist in the belly. He jerked the man’s upper body down at the same instant a knee thrust upward. It connected to the man’s chin with a crack. Nyssa felt the instant fade of the man’s psychic energy when he fell to the floor in a heap, unconscious.
“Was that really necessary?” Nyssa whispered.
Luca shoved her against the wall. “He wanted what’s mine. It was more than necessary.”
Nyssa’s breasts rose and fell rapidly with the intensity of Luca’s voice. A tendril of need shot straight to her core when his fingers caressed her neck, tracing along a collarbone.
“Later. As rough as you need to. I’ll take it all.” Her words were a whispered promise.
Pale amber light reflected on his teeth when he grinned. It was little more than a peeling back of his lips from his teeth, but she understood the intent behind it. He was wound as tight as a guitar string with rage and retribution and lust.
The flow of crawlers increased the deeper they walked inside the Catacombs. The fighting pits were not far from the entrance. It was common knowledge that the more perverse the pleasure, the deeper one must travel in the twisted network of tunnels and rooms. Fighting and gambling were the least perverse of all the aberrations available here. A piece of wood with the words The Pits scrawled on it hung from the ceiling. Nyssa and Luca stepped through the entrance.
Metal screens protected the women behind the counters marked for clearly with Betting and Payouts and Fighter Check-in. The room was crowded with betters and spectators.
A young Asian woman with braided hair stood behind the window for fighters. She slid a pencil and an entry form across the counter. Luca filled it out in seconds before sliding it back to the woman. Almond eyes flickered over the form and instantly widened.
“You challenge Dreven?” she said in a tremulous voice.
“Yes,” Luca said loudly enough that everyone in the cramped room could hear him. “Is that a problem?”
A shift in the energy of the room came instantly at Luca’s response. The drone of voices filling the room upon their entry halted instantly. Dozens of heads turned, eyes fixing on the hulking mountain of a man who challenged the leader of the Snake Eyes.
The woman shook her head, hand visibly trembling as she took the entry form and stamped it received. “Signature in blood first. That puts you on the board.” The woman offered a needle and quill. Luca pricked his thumb, dipped the quill in the crimson bead and signed where the woman indicated.
A glance at the signature brought a nod. The woman turned to the chalk board behind her and wrote Luca v. Dreven in the last slot. “You have the last fight of the night. It takes place at nightfall or after the other fights have ended. You have a private locker room, through the door to your left, then right. It’s at the end of the hallway. Do you have any special requests for food or beverage?”
“No. When will I know it’s time for the fight?”
“Ring bosses will come get you. You’ll know for certain who they are. They’re big but not nearly as big as you. Good luck,” the woman said with a smile.
The crowd in the room parted when Luca turned toward the door. Nyssa faintly remembered a religious fanatic in the Catacombs who happened upon the gambling hall shouting about a red sea parting thousands of years before the Great War. She wondered silently if it was anything like the crowd’s reaction to Luca.
Chapter 11
Luca
The private room at the end of the hallway was small and utilitarian. A shower, commode, and sink along with a locker, one chair, and a sofa decorated the room. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling provided a sickly shroud of light.
Luca sat in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, thoughts racing about the possible scenarios for how this would all play out. The first and most appealing scenario included his victory and Nyssa’s safety.
Thoughts of holding her each night, of nurturing and raising their children came. It brought a smile. Then the worst scenario came. What if, by some fluke, he lost the battle? What would happen to her? Thoughts of captivity, or worse yet, rape, came to mind. It was not something he wished to entertain.
“If something happens, promise me you’ll get out as fast as you can.”
Nyssa walked to him unbidden before resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Promise me, Nyssa. I couldn’t bear the thought of what they’ll do to you if I lose.” His voice was hoarse and strained, communicating every emotion and doubt warring within him. He caught her waist, pulling her close enough that his head came to rest on her belly. “They could hurt you, rape you.”
“You forgot I can see the future sometimes.” Her fingers massaged the tension from his shoulders, digging deep enough that he groaned from the pressure. “And I see you winning. Dreven doesn’t stand a chance against a real man.”
Her words brought a chuckle. It had been many years since he felt like a real man. Like a man who wanted more than casual sex with a prostitute once every few months. Like a man who wanted it all. All the good things life had to offer. He could rebuild a world where they were safe. A place where his children could live without fear. With Nyssa, he could do it all.
“I should get ready.”
She stepped away, watching as he took a roll of tape from the backpack and wrapping each hand. An unexpected knock came at the door. Nyssa answered it, peering through a crack, stepping back in surprise as a member of the Snake Eyes stepped into the room. The slender man with long, stringy grey hair bobbed his head in Luca’s direction.
“I shouldn’t be here, but you need to know something.” He glanced from Luca to Nyssa before continuing. “My name is Pritchard. You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Should I?” Nyssa replied, one brow raised at the man’s question.
“I was the guard that left the door unlocked. I hated how they treated you. A pretty girl like you, with no family, no one to call her own. I wanted you to get away,” Pritchard said in a voice that was nearly a whisper.
“I remember you now,” she said softly. “You were always nice to me.”
“Like I said. I couldn’t stand how they treated you. You would’ve died here. Now you’ve come back, to set things right. You and your man.” A tremulous chuckle followed his words. He rubbed both hands on the faded, torn jeans. “I’m sweating like a pig in the sun. If they catch me here, I’m dead. I’d best hurry.”
“Make your point,” Luca snapped, his patience worn thin by the man’s nervous movements and tremulous voice.
“Dreven plans on acting like you have him down for good. When you come over to make sure he’s out, he’ll get y
ou. He’s got a shank hidden in a boot. It’s tipped with some kinda poison.” Pritchard bobbed his head again, bending slightly at the knees when he did so. He rubbed his hands on his jeans again.
“And why should we trust you?” Luca stood before speaking, rolling his head and cracking his knuckles.
“I hate Dreven as much as most of the people in this town. As much as your lady does. He’s cold and cruel. Just like a rattlesnake. I want him gone as much as anyone.”
“And how do I know you’re not going to run back to him and give him some information you’ve gained while you’re here?” Luca worked his shoulders, dancing from one foot to the next with an agility belied by his size.
“Just look at the size of you! That’s enough to scare anyone half to death. Why would I want on your bad side? Some of the guys said they know you, you’re The Hunter. Is it true? You’re the guy they sent out to take out the targets no one could handle,” Pritchard took a step closer then backed up when Luca’s eyes fixed and narrowed on him.
“You should leave now,” Nyssa interrupted. “He needs to get ready for the fight.”
Pritchard bobbed his head again, stepping backwards toward the door. “Just remember, when he goes down, don’t trust that he’s out. End him for good. That’s the only way you’ll walk out of the ring alive.”
The door closed almost silently behind Pritchard when he left the room. Moments later a pounding rattled the door. Nyssa opened it again and retreated almost immediately when a massive man wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and combat boots stomped into the room. Luca sensed Nyssa’s unease. He took a few steps towards the man who backed up to stand just outside the door.
“I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I’m the ring boss. You’re up. Follow me.”
Luca handed the backpack to Nyssa and embraced her long enough to whisper, “Promise me you’ll leave if things go south.”
Her only response was to kiss him tenderly, take his hand, and say, “Are we ready?”
The roaring of the crowd grew louder as the ring boss led them down the hallway. A chain-link-covered door led into the ring.
The ring boss stopped and put up a hand. “Your woman can wait here. You should take off your shirt. Pants and shoes only allowed in the ring.”
Luca unbuttoned the flannel shirt, pulled it off, and handed it to Nyssa. “Remember what I said,” he reminded her.
“Go win this fight so we can go home,” she replied with a smile.
The door to the ring opened. Just before Luca stepped through it, an overhead speaker blared an announcement. “Just what you’ve been waiting for! Our challenger is known as The Hunter! He hunts and he destroys. Can he take down Dreven?” The crowd roared so loud Nyssa clapped her hands over her ears. “Our champion is Dreven. Leader of the Snake Eyes. Ruthless. Deadly. Undefeated!”
Luca walked into the ring. It was a twelve by twelve-foot enclosure with a drain in the center of the floor. No doubt the drain allowed for fast cleanup. The crowd sat in bleachers on each side of the ring. Luca saw balconies extending upward as high as he could see. Each balcony was filled with spectators. He bounced from toe to toe, working his arms and shoulders to loosen the muscles.
Seconds later the door across the ring opened and a man standing around six feet tall, rippling with muscle, walked through into the ring. His bald head gleamed in the light shining into the ring. Luca took note of the gold hoop ring in each ear.
A referee walked to the center of the ring. He motioned for each competitor to approach. “The only rules are the loser must tap out or be unable to continue. Since Dreven is leader of the Snake Eyes, he will lose his position if he loses this fight. Any questions?”
The staring game began the instant the referee spoke. Luca narrowed his eyes, stood nose to nose with Dreven, and kept his face devoid of emotion. He knew the stakes. Winning was the only option. The referee stepped away when neither opponent spoke. He left the ring via the same door Luca entered through.
Dreven danced away, arms loose, fists punching the air. He grinned and the crowd roared. Luca didn’t lose focus. Psychological warfare was as much a part of the game as any fighting tactic.
Dreven attacked with a series of spinning kicks. One barely grazed Luca’s mid-section. He caught the foot, rolled in toward his opponent’s body and brought an elbow down on the knee. It cracked; his opponent howled.
Dreven rolled away and stood. He favored the leg Luca injured. He danced forward, weaving and bobbing, before swinging at Luca’s head. Luca dodged, weaved low under the punch, and landed a fist to his opponent’s side just above a kidney.
A roar came from his opponent. Luca remained emotionless, circling the ring as Dreven took the offensive. His eyes fell briefly on the doorway where Nyssa stood. She was not there. His lack of focus allowed Dreven to land a flurry of punches. The coppery tang of blood caressed his tongue. It was a mistake he would not make again.
The fight continued as the crowd’s cheers ebbed and flowed. The noise remained at a level just below a deafening roar. When each opponent landed a blow, the roar rose to a deafening level.
Minutes ticked by. Both men took punches and kicks. Both were covered in sweat. Luca did not underestimate his opponent’s size. He outweighed the man by a good hundred pounds and was at least a foot taller. He knew underestimating the man could lead to the loss of the match.
Luca went on the offensive, caging the man against the chain link fence with both arms while his knees did the work. Several solid blows landed in Dreven’s gut. “Fists,” Dreven spat. “Fight me with fists.”
Luca danced away and loosened his neck and shoulders before dancing toward Dreven with fists held aloft. He glanced toward the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief to see Nyssa standing there with her fingers through the fencing. The distraction allowed his opponent to land a series of punches.
Luca shook his head, grinned, and went on the offensive. A series of jabs delivered at breathtaking speed forced Dreven backwards. He tripped and nearly fell, regaining his balance just in time to take a right-left hook, right uppercut combination. He held Luca’s arms with his own, pretending to be near collapse. Luca’s superior weight and height made short work of the tactic. Dreven once again staggered backwards, landed hard against the fence, and circled to Luca’s left.
It was time to end the fight. Luca was breathing hard but still had plenty of energy in the tank. His opponent was showing signs of weakening. He favored the right knee and side. Dreven danced forward, whipping the air with jabs that came within a fraction of an inch of Luca’s face. Luca dodged, caught Dreven’s right side with a jab and came in with a right cross that landed on his opponent’s jaw. Dreven went down like a fallen tree. Fast and hard.
Be careful. Remember the shank. Nyssa’s whisper caressed his mind when Dreven fell. He approached, left hand grabbing Dreven’s shoulder. His right hand slid up Dreven’s boot, fingers moving inside where the shank was secreted. He palmed it and rolled Dreven onto his back. He stepped away, dancing lightly on the balls of his feet, waiting for Dreven’s next move.
Dreven reached for the boot, his eyes widening in surprise when he found no shank in the boot. Luca grinned. It was the first display of emotion he had shown during the fight. A lightning fast movement, hand palm out, showed Dreven where the shank was. The man fell back on the concrete floor, defeat and fear evident in his eyes. He had lost.
Luca secreted the shank in his boot under the pretense of tightening the laces when the referee approached the fallen man.
Dreven tapped the referee’s arm and mouthed the words “I’m out.”
The referee approached Luca and held his hand in the air. The crowd’s roar was deafening.
The only thing he could think of now was holding Nyssa in his arms. That’s exactly what he did the instant the locker room door closed behind them. He held her, hands cradling her head while his mouth claimed hers. Chocolate eyes glistened with tears, but she held it together.
“Y
ou’re safe now,” he muttered. “We should go.”
“You’re all sweaty and you’re bleeding,” she whispered, fingers tracing the few places on his face where Dreven managed to land blows.
“I don’t care. We need to go. Who knows what Dreven’s followers will do,” he said before releasing his hold on her.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Nyssa opened it and smiled to see Pritchard standing outside. “Can, uh, can I come in?”
“Come in and close the door,” Luca called.
Pritchard stepped inside, still the same nervous, awkward mess as before. He grinned and bobbed his head, bending predictably at the knee. He wiped both hands on his jeans. Hands that were no doubt sweating even more since Luca was now the leader of the gang. “I wanted to let you know that the, uh, the others, they said they were glad you’re over them now. And you get Dreven’s quarters in the old hotel.”
“And what about Dreven?” Luca grunted. He took a towel from Nyssa and wiped his face and upper body down while listening to Pritchard’s response.
“He’s leaving town now. He has an hour to clear out. Rules say if he isn’t out in an hour, the whole town has kill-on-sight orders. Not many people like Dreven around here. He’s probably running for the hills now,” Pritchard chuckled. “So, uh, you’ll be taking over now, right?”
“No,” Luca muttered. “I’m not interested in living here when I’ve got a perfectly good home and friends. Friends I can trust.”
“Who’s gonna lead us then?” Pritchard stammered, his pale eyes wide.
“You,” Luca replied. “I’ll appoint you as my proxy leader. I’ll check back every now and again to make sure you’re doing things right. And by right, I mean treat people fair.”
“Tomorrow then. Before you leave town. Everybody will be outside the old hotel and you can tell them what you want done. You and your lady have a nice night. I’ll, uh, I’ll see that some food and a bottle of wine are brought to your room if it’s okay,” Pritchard added when he stood at the doorway.