Soul Merchant (Isabella Hush Series Book 5)

by Thea Atkinson

  Then he dropped me. Just as suddenly.

  I fell backward against his companion.

  "She's gone off," he said and wrinkled his nose. "Smells like brimstone."

  I was still trying to find my footing after he tossed me aside, and into the back of a behemoth of a man with pointed ears, when a crack very much like the sound of a gunshot sang through the air.

  The crowd whooped in unison, and I was forgotten in the rush toward the cage.

  I spun in place, fighting to keep my footing amid the throng. I was carried along by them, and I bounced up on my toes and all but climbed up the back of a very large woman as I tried to see past the shoulders and heads.

  Then I realized I didn't need to. I could stand perfectly still and see it. I just had to look up.

  Above me, the cage had reached its zenith.

  And the battle had begun.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE WITCHBORN DIDN'T waste one second once the cage door closed. Her first shot burst from her palms in a blazing green light that was so powerful it threw her back as though she'd disengaged a high-powered shotgun. While she staggered backward from the thrust, the magic streaked toward Maddox.

  It spun much like a Ninja star, slicing the air as it headed toward its target.

  "Fuck," I said out loud without meaning to.

  "Fucked is right, small one," said a familiar female voice, who evidently had mistaken what I'd meant. "He's met his match this time."

  I was too engrossed in the fight to look at who was speaking to me. I was immobile under my own will to make Maddox storm his opponent, but he did nothing of the sort. He waited as the streak of magic sought him out. It was in the last nanosecond that he leaned, ever so casually to the left.

  "He knows how she fights," said the woman at my side. "He'll let her tire herself out if he can."

  "He should fuck her over," I said, surprised to hear the brutality of the words exit my mouth, but realizing I meant each one of them.

  The blast of magic struck the cage behind Maddox and exploded into a thousand pinpricks of light that, in turn, traveled around the cage until they met each other and exploded again. Now, Maddox and she were lit by magic. The electricity of the magic made her hair whip around her face and chin, as though a wind took it, his buzz cut remained stiff and in place.

  "He doesn't want to hurt her, is his trouble," said my companion, and I knew who it was right in the moment I heard her voice again. I didn't need to turn to look at her. That scraping tone, that raw and unfeeling timber of it told me it was Kelly, the assassin I'd followed in.

  "Emotions are a liability," she said. "His compassion will be his undoing."

  I was beginning to think so, and yet some part of me wanted to argue the point.

  "If he didn't want to hurt her, he shouldn't have agreed to fight her."

  There was a short chuckle from beside me as the Witchborn danced backward to recover.

  "Maybe he would have made a smarter choice, if his love for a human wasn't quite so strong. I smell it from here. It's a disease, the compassion. Nothing good can come from it. "

  She sounded as though she was talking about someone other than Maddox, but the words dragged my gaze back to him and the Witchborn.

  I cringed as I watched the panther slide around coyly to Maddox's back. He didn't even notice it.

  "Two on one," I said. "How is that fair?"

  "Witchborn is one," Kelly said, and I turned finally to steal a look at her.

  She stood within a foot of me, sans child. She wore the leather jacket the child had been wearing when I'd caught sight of them. Her hair was still cropped short. She was as tall as I was, but I knew her appearance disguised a deadly, doggedly ferocious killer.

  She wasn't looking my way at all, but she had to know who I was. If she did recognize me as the human she'd once tried to kill, because I'd stolen a fae rune, she didn't seem to care.

  She seemed more intent on the fight. The same as every other creature in the bar. Even the human servers were enthralled. I caught sight of one of the servers with her mouth agape, her tray of drinks hovering forgotten in her fists. Humans. All of them. I remembered the child who had accompanied this assassin earlier.

  I scanned the area around her legs, hoping and not hoping to see her.

  "You came in here with a child," I said, when my inspection turned up empty.

  Her gaze was drawn to mine by something I didn't understand at first, and then I realized the truth of what that look was saying it.

  "You sold her," I said with the tiniest wince of disgust. "What's the going price for a four-year-old human in this place."

  She stuffed a hand into the jacket pocket and burrowed around inside as though she were searching for something.

  "Are you looking to buy an Indentured for yourself?" she said and thrust her chin toward the cage. "Strange choice for a human, but at least they're a cheaper slave than the Witchborn."

  Her gaze slid from my head to my heel and back again. She was measuring me, I realized. I wasn't sure at first what it was she was considering as she looked at me, but I knew she had known all along exactly who I was. I imagined she was reliving the time when she'd last been to the bazaar with another child, hoping to flush me out by threatening the life of the young teen runaway who gathered my intel.

  I lifted my chin under her gaze. I'd set that whole thing in motion by stealing a magical rune tile, but it was unintentional. That theft had cost me dearly. I considered that debt paid. She could think what she wanted.

  A strange light sparked behind her gaze as it ran over me. I thought I could see a kaleidoscope in the depths. It was enough to make me dizzy. I wanted to reach out for something but didn't dare move. When she spoke again, I had the feeling she wasn't just being conversational, even if the tone suggested it.

  "It's interesting how the poor Indentured that were once human are bound to this place by magic," she said. "But the kind of magic is even more interesting. The ownership needs to be transferred from Kindred to Kindred. It has a source."

  She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to the fight.

  And it was a fascinating spectacle, to be honest. Like a train wreck tossing bloody body parts in all directions kind of fascinating. I could hear the sounds of fighting coming from the cage and I felt each thud and quietly dreadful sound of each bit of contact in the bowels of my stomach.

  I kept trying to turn away and kept getting pulled back by my own astonishment.

  "The jaguar is her familiar," Kelly said, without taking her eyes from the cage and what was going on inside. "It's part of her even if it's been severed by the magic that enslaves her. You'd be smart to leave human," she said, still staring ahead. "No matter who wins, if you're still here, someone will scoop you up and enslave you by magic, and then you too will be under Errol's thumb."

  She sighed theatrically. "And then you'll make your lover's sacrifice a waste."

  "He's not my..." I started to say, but I got stuck on the words she'd said.

  Sacrifice. She expected Maddox to lose.

  The thought dragged my gaze back to the cage. In the few seconds I'd turned away, it was evident that the fighters had both made contact with a blow or two. The Witchborn's hand taping was trailing a few inches from her wrist, and they were both bloody. Each of them had beads of sweat pooling on their foreheads that glistened in the sickening green light of the cage. Blood coated the girl's hair and there was a smear of it on Maddox's cheek. I thought he had a cut over his left eye.

  Maddox, huge and towering in the space had little room to maneuver, while the girl and her jaguar paced in plenty of space. I wasn't sure who was at a disadvantage.

  Just as I thought perhaps size might be the better weapon, the jaguar, spectral and blurry one moment, and solid and terrifying in the next, leapt for Maddox's back.

  In one fluid motion that might have been beautiful if it had been a dance, Maddox spun on one heel. He twisted ever so gracefull
y to the side, whipping his hands over his shoulder to grapple the jaguar around the throat and body slam it on the glass floor. It was a huge animal, and doing so had to take more muscle than I'd given Maddox credit for.

  But the beast he grabbed went to vapor beneath his grip, so that he was clutching at nothing more than air. When Maddox wrenched his whole body into the thrust, the wisp of creature floated free of his hold.

  Maddox was left unbalanced, and the Witchborn used that advantage to fire another shot at him.

  The blast struck him in the shoulder. He staggered.

  The cage pulsed with light just as it hit him, and the crowd roared its pleasure.

  I might have yelled in horror.

  All I knew, was that he dropped to his knees and the Witchborn threw her hands in front of her with a gusto, that meant she was giving her next blast all of her energy.

  "Sweet Jesus, he's going to get killed," I said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I HAD THOUGHT THE LEAKING of my soul, as Kerri had called it, liberated me from feeling anything uncomfortable, but seeing Maddox on his knees struck terror in my throat. I realized for the first time that even though he was a man accustomed to battle, and used to being seen as invincible, all of that had been centuries ago. He was rusty. He was out of shape. He'd been battling pathetic thieves and robbers and lost his skills.

  I yelled something at the cage. I hoped it was encouraging and supportive and not just terrified, but even as I did, I realized I should have kept quiet. I was supposed to be gone. He'd paid for my freedom with his body. I held my breath, waiting, praying to whatever god would listen that he get up.

  As though a god was listening, Maddox straightened up slowly. I watched as he lumbered toward the Witchborn and swung awkwardly for her face with a balled fist. She, like the jaguar before her, went to smoke before the strike landed. The jaguar behind her gained corporeality in the same heartbeat.

  It leapt again, this time landing on his shoulders. Its head dropped, jaws wide open, and it bit down hard into the meat of his shoulder. Maddox's mouth opened in an involuntary scream but if it sounded, I didn't hear it over the cat calls and wolf whistles around me.

  The Witchborn rushed Maddox's other side at the same moment. When he grabbed to yank the cat off, it went to smoke. The girl, however, solidified and struck him with an upper cut then blasted him again with magic.

  The magic took him off his feet this time. He fell backward and landed with his shoulders smashing onto the glass floor. The wound in his shoulder splattered blood onto the floor and smeared over the glass.

  The tension in my throat cut off a cry. In fact, I could barely force air down through it and into my lungs. I realized I was trembling. That my hands were balled against my mouth.

  "That was a hard one," Kelly said thoughtfully. "Brava, Witchborn."

  She said the last without emotion, and I couldn't help turning to watch her. She tipped an imaginary hat toward the Kennel and sent me a low-slung smile.

  "You're nearly drained," she said. "But not so far that you can't feel for him. Or her. That might be useful if you wanted to do something to help."

  I started to answer but the sound of glass shattering carried over the shouting and made me startle. I wouldn't look at the cage. I wouldn't.

  "Goodbye, human," she said rubbing one hand over the other and stroking her thumb in a motion that drew my eye. "Try not to get killed too."

  Kelly grinned at me in a way that didn't light her eyes or her expression. It was a cold movement of her mouth, as though she thought it was something she should do rather than because she felt any humor. Then she lifted both hands to her chest, running a finger over her thumb again, canting her head meaningfully to the side and holding my eye before finally turning to push her way into the crowds that surrounded us.

  She didn't have to shoulder her way through any clusters, however. The groupings of Kindred parted as soon as she moved anyway near them. Every creature seemed intent on giving her the widest berth possible.

  They closed back in again when she passed, pressing in on me, pushing me farther along toward the Kennel in their excitement.

  When a collective groan went up, I looked again at the cage. I didn't want to. I just couldn't help it.

  The glass bottom had cracked. Jagged lines crackled the surface of it in a web of silver. Maddox lay on it face down. His face looked beaten and swollen. I caught sight of Errol on the other side of the room as he raised his fist in the air. Fist pumping. Victorious. Revolting.

  He eddied through the crowds toward the Kennel, shoving patrons out of the way as he went and waved his hand at the floor above him. The surface melded back together as though he'd run liquid glass into the cracks. It was as pristine as it had been when it first descended.

  A pool of patrons nearby moved to pat him on the back. In response, he ran hand over his bejeweled hand proudly, as though his skin prickled and he needed to smooth it out. It was the movement of an evil villain in a Bond movie, and I imagined the magic he'd used had tingled painfully over the surface of his skin. I hoped it sucked some of his power out too.

  I could see it shutting down into his skin with each pass of his hands. One particularly large stone glinted in the light and refracted toward the cage.

  It sent thin rays of light toward the opponents within, and I could see clearly that Maddox still lay on his stomach. I pushed forward, so I was looking straight up at the floor of the cage. I felt suffocated by the Kindred around me, pressing against me to get the best view. Had the cage been on the floor, I'd never have been able to catch his eye, but because it was hanging from the ceiling, I had perfect view.

  I caught his eye. I wanted him to see me, at least. I knew he'd expected me to run but I hadn't, and he should know that I hadn't lost all my soul. Like Kelly said, I could still show him I cared.

  If I could do anything, I could root for him. He should know someone believed in him. My neck hurt for straining upward. I tried to mouth encouragement at him. Get up. Keep fighting. You've got this.

  I don't know what my face must have looked like, but when he caught my eye, he winked and smiled. Though his brow was swollen and bleeding, and his mouth was leaking drool and blood onto the glass, although it must have hurt like hell, he smiled.

  He was enjoying it, the bastard.

  The jaguar jumped onto his back, and in a heartbeat, Maddox flipped over so quickly the cat was thrown to the side. It made the cage shudder as it struck the bars and a blast of purple shot out as the cat touched the metal. I smelled burnt hair and something else. Something like rotting flesh and swampy intestines.

  I had to close my eyes to get rid of the sight of the big cat twisting and writhing against the cage as it tried to dislodge itself from the bars. Something besides magic held it there, and whatever it was, it was painful. I felt like I would vomit. I reached out for something. Someone pushed me off of them, and I hinged forward to hold onto my stomach. I couldn't throw up here. Not now.

  Pink glittered sandals cut into my vision against the blackness of the floor. The delicate instep of a woman's foot swirled in place as though the owner were dancing. Her voice above me, murmured in thought to someone as her shimmer dusted feet moved once, back-stepped, and danced in again.

  "He's got this one nailed down," she said in a voice tight with disapproval.

  "I don't think so," said someone else, another woman, I guessed, when a pair of purple Mary Janes scuffed up next to the sandals. "My bet's on the Witchborn. She wants her freedom. She won't lose. She can't afford to."

  I managed to lift my face to see them both. True fae, I thought, if I understood what the fae folk might look like. Both were incandescent and beautiful. Both had pointed ears and tiny, elegant fangs.

  "You've wasted your money if you've bet on the Witchborn this time," said Pink Sandals.

  "Maddox is toast." Purple Mary Janes said with finality.

  "I wasn't talking about Maddox. I was talking about Errol.
This was to be his fighter's last Kennel clash. He knew he had this one last chance to earn back his full power with bets on her. That's why he tricked Maddox. I'm willing to bet he's put up a godly sum of power on The Witchborn's loss."

  "He'll let her die, then?" said PMJ to a nod from Pink Sandals.

  I looked at the cage again. It was obvious that the bets they were discussing were based in magic and power, and that Errol had been exploiting the fights to win some of his power back. He'd probably been doing it for years. No doubt as long as the Kennel had been open. A hundred years, did Kelly say?

  The Witchborn was dancing away from Maddox, who, for all he looked battered, didn't appear to feel his pain. In fact, he appeared to be making a slow, steady progress toward her.

  "Maddox will kill her," said Pink Sandals flatly. "Make no mistake. But she'll fight until she can't."

  "Pity about the Witchborn. I'll miss her clashes when she's gone."

  My gorge rose with my fury and indignation that one creature could, and would, exploit another. I was no stranger to it. Scottie used me. He'd treated me like a possession just like Errol was treating the Witchborn up there. Except in this case, the poor Kindred was well and truly owned. It wasn't right. I didn't care if my rage was rooted in my own memories of what Scottie had done to me or if it was true pity and empathy for the creature fighting for her life.

  It didn't matter. All I knew was I felt that fury so strongly it tightened my throat.

  My gaze trailed back to the cage where Maddox had gained another foot of distance. The big cat solidified and leapt at him again, but he didn't stagger backward this time. He pressed on stoically, with the cat tearing into his ribs even as he covered his face with his other arm to protect his eyes and throat.

  It had to hurt. It had to be the most terrible pain and take the most dogged determination to overcome it.

  I thought of the power Maddox had shown me when Scottie's goon had beaten all but the living crap out of me. He'd held me tenderly when he'd found me. Helped me wash the blood, snot, and tears from my body. And then, just as tenderly, he pulled me close so he could siphon all the pain from my body until I was healed. He bore my agony for as long as it took to track the goon down.