Tooth and Nail

by Chris Underwood

  “Are you finished?” Lockhart called out to me. She was standing near her own car, waiting to enter. She gestured. “Will you accompany me?”

  “If you insist,” I said.

  As I approached Lockhart’s car, I glimpsed Nolan getting into the driver’s seat of Atwood’s car. I raised my hand at him. “Hey, Nolan. Wait. I wanted to—”

  He slammed the door without looking at me.

  “Mr. Turner?” Lockhart prompted.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  I climbed into the back seat, and Lockhart slid in next to me. Isaac closed the door and got in the driver’s seat. One by one, the luxury vehicles peeled away from the mansion and turned onto the road. I glanced back and saw Lilian following in my van.

  “If the revenant is coming with us, I hope she can control herself,” Lockhart said. “I won’t have her disrupting the duel.”

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. She’ll be just fine.”

  Lockhart didn’t look satisfied by that, but she let it slide. “Are you prepared?”

  My stomach churned. My mouth felt dry and it was taking all my concentration to keep my hands from shaking.

  “Ready and eager,” I said.

  “Good.”

  I sat back on the faux-leather seat, trying to get comfortable. I licked my lips and let the bravado drain from my voice.

  “Rachel,” I said. “Did she make it through the night?”

  Lockhart didn’t answer for several seconds, presumably to keep me in suspense. It was working. Finally, she said, “She’s alive.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. That was something at least.

  When I glanced at Lockhart, though, she didn’t look quite so relaxed. My stomach began to churn again. “What is it?”

  “Rachel is alive,” she said. “But your revenant’s spell seems to have reinforced the bond between Rachel and Selene. Our attempts to break it have been undone.”

  “So start over again,” I said.

  “Rachel is weak now. Very weak. She will not survive it.”

  I dragged my hands across my face. “Hell.”

  “There’s more. My loremaster believes that now the destruction of Selene’s body will be enough to kill the swain as well. If we do not destroy it, however, the decay will eventually degrade Rachel’s soul until she is destroyed as well.”

  “So…so what do we do? There has to be something we can do.”

  Lockhart said nothing.

  “Ask Early for help,” I said. “Or the hag. The hag will know what to do.”

  “The hag will not help us.”

  “Early, then.”

  “I fear this is beyond Early’s skill.”

  “You won’t know until you ask him,” I said.

  “And I will. But not tonight. Tonight, we have other matters to deal with.”

  The vampire convoy took us out through the town’s old industrial districts. The roads here were nearly deserted at this hour—and they weren’t much busier during the day. These streets were a relic of Lost Falls’ past, when some of the mines still operated and the forestry industry was in full swing. Lost Falls had been bigger then, more prosperous, bringing more industry with it.

  That, I suspected, hadn’t gone over too well with some of the town’s more secretive residents. I wondered how much of a hand Lockhart had had in turning the factories and warehouses around us into a shuttered ghost town scrawled with graffiti.

  Soon, we left the industrial districts behind. We carried on for another mile or two through sparse farmland and past an old abandoned quarry. Eventually, we turned down a minor road littered with potholes. The convoy slowed.

  A tall, corrugated iron fence loomed out of the darkness. A handful of abandoned cars lay scattered on the side of the road, just outside the razor-wire-topped fence.

  We followed the fence line a few more seconds before we came to a short driveway leading to a dilapidated iron gatehouse. Alongside the building was a large gate on rails, illuminated by a single exterior light. There was a sad little sign attached to the building that read: Robertson Auto and Wrecking.

  “Christ,” I muttered under my breath. “I should’ve died by the river. At least I had a nice view.”

  “What was that?” Lockhart asked.

  I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  The BMW at the head of the convoy pulled up to the gate. Before they’d come to a complete stop, the gate began to slide open.

  In the widening space I saw a young, glamoured ogre wearing a set of blue overalls. He was shoving the gate open with all the apparent effort of someone pushing a shopping cart.

  As the gap widened, I saw another half dozen ogres arrayed behind him. A couple were glamoured, though the others were not. All were armed.

  When the gate was open, the overall-wearing ogre stood aside and crossed his arms, waiting.

  The BMW didn’t move.

  “What are we waiting for?” I asked.

  “An invitation,” Lockhart said.

  “Already? You can’t even get past the fence?”

  “Apparently not,” Lockhart said.

  After a few seconds, one of the ogres seemed to figure it out. He came out from the pack, approaching the car. The back window rolled down, and the ogre muttered something to the vampire inside. Tires crunched against gravel and the BMW slowly drove through the gate.

  The next car in the convoy repeated the same procedure, then it was our turn. Lockhart opened the window a few inches as we came to a stop in front of the gate. The ogre peered in.

  “Good evening,” Lockhart said.

  The ogre bowed his head in mock reverence. “Your majesty. On behalf of Bounding Rabbit, I welcome you. Make yourself at home.”

  “My thanks.” Lockhart hit the window control and the window rolled closed in the ogre’s face. “Let’s go,” she said to Isaac.

  The swain drove us into the compound, following the tail lights of the other cars. We took a winding path along a dirt road that traveled up a gently sloping hill. On all sides, the rusted shells of dead cars crowded in around us. Thick weeds threatened to swallow the vehicles at ground level. Other cars were stacked two or three high on metal frames.

  At the far end of the lot, on top of the low hill, there were lights shining outside a house. I couldn’t see much more than its silhouette at this distance, but I got the impression of something sprawling and ramshackle, expanded upon many times over the years. Around the main house I could see smaller buildings that could have been trailers or prefab buildings.

  At widely spaced intervals, bright floodlights cast pools of light on the road ahead of us. Beyond those points of light, though, the darkness pressed in close. Every now and then I thought I glimpsed movement among the wrecked vehicles, but whenever I peered out I could see nothing but darkness.

  “Mistress,” Isaac said. “Are you sure this isn’t a trap?”

  “We’ve had this discussion already,” Lockhart replied.

  “It’s just—”

  “I’ll hear no more about it, Isaac. We will not do anything to provoke a response from the ogres. Make sure the other swains all understand that.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” he said, not hiding the annoyance in his voice. “But I don’t think Master Booker will listen—”

  “Leave Booker to me.” Lockhart’s tone made it clear the conversation was over. Isaac went silent, focusing on the road ahead.

  I leaned over and whispered to Lockhart. “If it is a trap, though?”

  A vicious smile touched her lips. “Then Bounding Rabbit will quickly realize what a mistake it was to invite us in.”

  28

  I stared out the window of the BMW, my heart starting to pound a little harder as we approached the center of the wrecking yard. A ramshackle structure loomed over us, surrounded by spotlights.

  “These ogres really take this kind of thing seriously, don’t they?” I said to Lockhart.

  Lockhart nodded without ta
king her eyes from the structure. “So it would seem.”

  The BMW came to a stop along with the rest of the convoy. Lockhart turned away from the window and glanced over at me. My nerves must have shown on my face.

  “Do not lose focus,” Lockhart said. “The ogres will seek to distract you with unfamiliar terrain, with spectacle, with every advantage they can muster. They will try to strike fear into you. It is the way they have always fought. They rely too heavily on their size to intimidate their foes. Holdfast will not expect to fight a brave man. That is how you will beat him.”

  “Gotta admit, Sonja, I’m not feeling very brave.”

  “That is just the anticipation. When the fight starts you will find your strength.” She looked away. “Or you will die.”

  Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out.

  “Is she always that bad at pep talks?” I asked Isaac.

  The swain didn’t answer. He opened the glove compartment, removed a pistol, and slipped it into a holster beneath his jacket. Flashing me an unfriendly grin, he got out of the car and joined his mistress.

  “Christ,” I muttered to myself. “I hate these people.”

  I climbed out.

  All around me, vampires and swains were emerging from their vehicles. At the rear of the convoy I saw my van, though I couldn’t make out Lilian through the crowd.

  Vampires and swains held whispered conversations interspersed with suspicious glances in all directions. With every creak of rusted metal, the hands of swains twitched toward holstered weapons.

  Nearby, three ogres watched us just as suspiciously. I recognized a couple of them from the initial confrontation at Doyle’s Reach. The third was an elderly ogre, his tusks so long they were beginning to curl back on themselves. He leaned on a carved wooden walking stick as he cast a disdainful look over the lot of us.

  But it was what was behind the ogres that had drawn my attention. In an impressive feat of engineering, the ogres had built themselves a scrap yard Colosseum.

  It looked roughly circular in shape, with a diameter wide enough to encompass the footprint of your average three-bedroom suburban house. It was constructed mostly from metal frames and the bodies of crushed cars, with some scrapped trucks and vans forming the base of the structure. All told, it stretched nearly two stories into the air. Scaffolding formed makeshift staircases around the sides. Six large floodlights were attached to the top of the makeshift arena, shining light into the middle.

  We were facing what I assumed what supposed to be a gate. It was, in fact, the shell of a bus with one end attached by a chain to a worn yellow tractor. Currently, the bus was blocking the opening that lead into the arena.

  As the vampires and swains gathered, the elderly ogre limped over to us. He fixed Lockhart with a hard eye.

  “Miss Lockhart,” he rasped. “Welcome. Name’s Grayblood. I’m Bounding Rabbit’s husband.”

  Lockhart inclined her head a couple of inches. “A pleasure. Where is Bounding Rabbit?”

  “Already in the stands. Got a box seat for you to share with her.” He cast an eye over the gathered vampires and swains, then jabbed his walking stick toward the scaffolding around the arena. “The rest of your people can head up there. Seats might not be very comfy. Hope you all brought some cushions.”

  I was more concerned the whole structure would collapse the instant everyone started climbing into position, but Lockhart just flashed a polite smile.

  “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. You all must have worked very quickly to build this. Quite impressive.”

  Off to the side, I saw Booker whisper something in the ear of one of his cronies. The other vampire looked at the arena and snickered.

  Grayblood didn’t pay any attention to the laughter. “What have you done with Bluebird?” he asked.

  “He’s in a safe place,” Lockhart said. “And what of Leon Adler?”

  “Safe, too. Gettin’ hungry, though.”

  Lockhart nodded, saying nothing. The ogre’s hard gaze settled on me.

  “This is your champion?” he asked Lockhart without taking his eyes off me.

  “Indeed. This is my friend, the cunning man Osric Turner.”

  The ogre grunted. “We’ll be startin’ in a couple of minutes.” He pointed his stick toward the bus barring the way. “When the gate opens, you enter,” he said to me. “Make whatever preparations you need to. You have your weapon?”

  I pulled back the lapel of my coat and patted my truncheon.

  “Good.” The ogre addressed the vampires and swains. “If you’re watching, up the scaffolds with you. Miss Lockhart, follow me.”

  Lockhart nodded and turned to me. “Fight well, Mr. Turner.”

  I swallowed and nodded. Lockhart fixed me with one last look, then followed Grayblood around the side of the arena.

  The vampires and swains began to file up the scaffolding, entering the arena. As they dispersed, I saw Lilian emerge from the line of parked cars. She’d evidently been hanging back from the others, but she seemed to have overheard what was happening. As she approached, I could see the worry etched in her face.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Slim,” I said. “You’ll make me nervous.”

  “I’ll be in there watching,” Lilian said, taking my hands. “If you need anything, if you want me to get you out of there…”

  I leaned in and kissed her softly. She closed her eyes and touched her forehead to mine.

  “Don’t you die on me, big guy,” she whispered.

  Before I could answer, she slipped her hands from mine and followed the last of the swains heading up into the arena.

  I stood alone. A couple of ogres still stood guard nearby, but they weren’t paying me much attention. One ogre climbed into the cab of the tractor hitched to the dead bus and started the engine.

  The arena and its scaffolding staircase creaked and groaned as the audience got into position. I could hear the murmur of conversation over the rumbling of the tractor’s engine, but it was impossible to make out what was being said.

  I took a deep breath to try to stop my heart slapping against my ribs. The night was cool, but sweat prickled at my forehead. I wanted to take my coat off, but it was my best defense in the fight ahead.

  I looked down at myself, checking that the charms I’d pinned to my coat were still in place and intact. I buttoned my coat so it wouldn’t flap about too much, then unhooked my truncheon from my belt and wrapped the strap around my wrist. Gripping it tight, I gave a few test swings.

  Satisfied, I stretched out my shoulders and then bounced up and down a couple of times. I’d need to keep moving once I was in there. A cramp would be the death of me.

  Once I was limbered up, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the two vials of potions I’d brewed earlier in the day. One was a thick, golden yellow, like honey. That one would sharpen my senses. The other was a dark green-blue. It would be pulling double-duty: giving me the capacity to push my muscles a little further, while also deadening any pain. It was that potion I was most worried about using. Pain was necessary. Pain kept people alive. With this, I could push myself too far, cause myself an injury.

  Assuming Holdfast didn’t cause one first.

  Taking a breath, I broke the seal on the blue-green vial and brought it to my lips.

  It was warm as I swallowed it, warmer than it had felt in my hand. The warmth dropped into my stomach and then spread outward. It wasn’t terribly different from a shot of vodka. Aside from the heat, I didn’t feel much different. I wouldn’t expect to, though, just standing here. It wouldn’t be until I was in the arena that I could judge how effective my potion-making skills were.

  Tossing the empty vial aside, I opened the second potion. I could detect the golden fluid’s sickly sweet smell even before I tilted the vial back and let it drip into my mouth.

  I noticed the difference almost as soon as I swallowed. At first, it was almost too much. The beams of the floodlights suddenly seemed painfully b
right. My shirt scratched across the hairs on my arms. The murmur of conversation became two dozen individual voices laid over the top of one another. I could taste dirt and smell rusted metal.

  After a few seconds, though, my brain adjusted to the sudden wave of information. I began to filter it out, letting some elements fade into the background while I brought others into sharp relief. I spotted an ogre crouched in the dark thirty yards out from the arena, watching for any treachery from the vampires. I heard the hiss of a walkie-talkie, and an ogre saying “We’re ready.”

  The rumble of the tractor’s engine grew louder, and then it slowly began to pull forward, dragging the shell of the bus behind it. The entrance to the arena opened.

  Light flooded the hard-packed earth that formed the floor of the arena. Four halves of car shells were positioned around the arena. At first I thought the ogres had been too lazy to move them before they built the rest of the place. Then I realized they’d been placed deliberately. To act as cover, maybe. Give me and Holdfast something to fight around.

  They really were treating this as a spectacle. They were going to eat popcorn while one of us died.

  The structure wasn’t as thin as it seemed from the outside. It was less a ring and more of a donut, all of it built from scrap metal and car parts. The inside sloped down toward the ground, with steps on the way to give our audience a place to sit.

  And that audience was already in place. There had to be at least two dozen ogres seated around the far side of the arena. I assumed the vampires and their swains filled the seats on my side.

  At the far end of the arena, a gutted RV was being dragged aside. Another gap in the arena was opening up.

  Holdfast stood there, staring at me.

  He was stripped to the waist, exposing brown, leathery skin and a thin pelt of chest hair. With my enhanced senses, I could see the way his eyes burned.

  He held a hammer in his hands. It resembled a sledgehammer, but this wasn’t something he’d picked up from the local hardware store. It was scaled for his ridiculous size, crafted specifically for ogre hands.

  I swallowed and glanced down at the truncheon in my hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen blunt weapons after all.