The audience jeered.
"You suck, Boris!" someone called out.
I guessed Shorty was Boris—he turned and scowled at the heckler. He bared a set of oversized teeth and hissed, but the heckler laughed.
His opponent took advantage of the distraction to lunge at Boris and drive a knife toward the man's side.
Boris howled.
The audience cheered.
Tall-demon drew back the knife and held it above his head.
The blade was completely clean of blood.
I shook my head. "What the—"
"Collapsible blades," Kannen said. "I'd guess they're charged to give a shock, but nothing more. Probably hurt like hells."
I turned to him and stared. "Demons fight with mock weapons?"
"We're not completely uncivilised," Kannen replied. "But it doesn't look like it's over."
Boris threw aside his knives and took a swing at his opponent with a closed fist. He connected with the side of his cheek, hard enough to knock him back a step. Tall-demon tossed his own blades into a corner and hurled himself at Boris, hands outstretched. He slammed into Boris' chest and they both went flying into the ropes.
They bounced and went down, Boris on top.
He rolled off and bared his teeth again. A long sinewy tongue flicked out from between them. Apart from a tinge of green, it looked like an ordinary tongue. Ordinary except that it kept on coming and coming, until it reached the length of a person's arm.
"Cheat!" someone in the crowd called out.
A piercing whistle from the blue-haired woman backed up the accusation.
"Put it away Boris. Penalty to Zachary." She gestured toward tall-demon.
"Penalty?" I queried. "This is a weird sport."
Kannen laughed. "Why, because it's not a free for all, like some human sports?"
"No legal human sports are a free for all," I replied.
"Who said anything about legal?"
"Touché. So what does the penalty mean?"
"No idea. Keep watching."
I shrugged and finished my cola. I put the glass on the bar and turned back to see Zachary aim a punch at Boris. The impact of the blow drove him across the ring, into the ropes. He slumped, face red and dazed.
"What were you saying about demon sports?" Taking a blow like that, when all you could do was stand there, was unlike anything I had seen before.
"Hey, no one's perfect."
The crowd broke into applause and catcalls. Apparently seeing someone knocked on their ass was their idea of an enjoyable pastime.
Boris wasn't as pleased. He dragged himself up to his feet, made fists of his large hands and stalked Zachary around the ring. Zachary, cocky from his prior success, walked backward, grinned and gestured for Boris to come at him. He appeared surprised when his back touched the rope in the corner of the ring.
"Take 'im down!" someone shouted.
"Naw, Zachary is going to fuck him up!" yelled another.
"He couldn't fuck up a brothel!"
"I see friendly banter is the same for most sports," I remarked.
Kannen grinned. "It's part of the fun, right?"
"I guess so."
Boris pressed Zachary harder into the corner and started hitting him with a rain of blows to his face and upper body. Zachary used one hand to protect his face, brought up a fist and drove it into Boris' groin.
Boris snapped his teeth and growled like a wounded animal. He aimed a kick at Zachary, who grabbed his leg and pulled him off his feet.
Boris hit the floor with a thud that sounded like it rattled his spine. He jumped back up so quickly, maybe he didn’t have one at all. Or the one he had was as strong as the hells.
He snaked out an arm and wrapped it around Zachary’s neck. With a grunt, he started to squeeze. Zachary’s face slowly turned red.
"So, no sticking out tongues, but strangulation is all right?" I asked.
"So it would seem." Kannen frowned. His blue eyes looked troubled.
"Maybe we should do something." I started forward, but Kannen grabbed my arm and held me back.
"Wait."
I frowned, but held my ground for the moment.
The blue-haired woman blew her whistle just as Zachary began to sag.
Boris dropped him.
Zachary fell, gasped a few times and started to cough. He lay there for a good minute while Boris beamed.
He turned to the audience and gave them a bow. Some of them cheered, just as many jeered.
Zachary pushed himself to his hands and knees, but Boris put a foot on his ass and shoved him back down.
The whistle sounded, once, twice. The crowd went wild.
I shook my head in confusion. "I have no idea what just happened."
Kannen laughed. "Neither do I," he admitted. "I don't think I'll be offering myself as a combatant."
"Me either." I could have beaten either of them in a fight, maybe even both of them, but the rules of this game were lost on me.
"Don't get it, huh?" A slender man in a perfectly fitting suit and no tie nodded toward me. "Neither did I at first." He sipped on a glass of beer and peered over the rim with green eyes.
"Care to explain it?" Kannen drawled.
The man nodded and held out a hand. "Smith."
I exchanged looks with Kannen and shook the man's hand.
"Juliet. Kannen. So what's it all about?"
"It's very simple, mate." Smith reclined against the bar. "It's a game of skills."
"Obviously," I said dryly. "What skill does it take to win?"
"Skills. Plural. As many as possible," Smith replied. "Knives, fists, dirty. Boris used them all."
I blinked. "So the more techniques a fighter has, the better, even if they're from a different martial art?"
"Yep. That's why it's called Free For All." Smith gave me a smile.
I choked back a laugh.
"Just wait until you see the skilled fighters. If there's a disciplined martial art, they've practiced it. They fight with much more finesse. There hasn't been a strangulation amongst them for months." He toasted me with his drink and gulped down the rest before he waved for the bartender to give him another.
"Does anyone ever die in these?" I asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zachary and Boris exit the ring. Neither looked worse for wear. They both bowed to the audience and stepped away.
"Sometimes," Smith replied. "If there's a blood feud between two families, or two individuals, they can fight it out here. It's somewhat frowned upon though, because it's bloody messy. They usually have to pay in advance for a cleaner. Blood is a bitch to wash out, as I'm sure you're aware."
He gave me a knowing look.
I shrugged with one shoulder. Gore came with the job, there was no way around that.
"So they don't bring people in from the outside and have them fight for their lives?"
Smith hesitated. "Sometimes. It's usually a no-good anyway. Y'know the kind. Murder, sexual assault, or whatnot. Police caught them, courts let them go."
I nodded. Cases like that appeared on the news all too often. Offenders were let loose on the street, only to commit another, often worse, crime. They gave people who legitimately wanted to change a bad rap.
"How do they know they plan to reoffend?" I asked. They'd have to be damned sure a person was trouble before dragging them into a place like this. Even then, I wasn't sure I approved of the idea.
"Some get followed. Besides, you can tell with some people, can't ya? Some just look rough as guts."
Not always, I thought, but I simply nodded. "So they're brought here? What if they win?"
Smith grinned, showing a mouthful of neat, white teeth. "Funnily enough, it's never happened. Must be the alcohol they get plied with beforehand. In some cases, the castration they received against their wills." His expression was savage.
I swallowed. I understood the reasoning, but the courts were supposed to deal with people like that. If they had, none of this would happen.
It was an ugly cycle that probably wouldn't end any time soon.
"Anyway, enough chatter." Smith straightened up. "You're here to see Haigwood?"
16
"Were we that obvious?" I asked.
Smith just smiled and knocked on a door at the end of the corridor.
I turned to Kannen, who looked bemused.
"I guess we were," the demon replied easily.
Maybe we would get some answers, sooner rather than later.
At some indiscernible signal, Smith pushed the door open and led them inside.
"Sir, I have some friends who wanted to meet you."
Friends?
Haigwood himself reclined on a couch under a window covered by a blind. He wasn't much taller than me, or much older. He looked like an ordinary human man. He had a head of blonde hair, neatly cut in the latest style. His eyes, with which he regarded us with curiosity, were brown. He wore a dark suit which had obviously been tailored by someone with skill.
He rose, uncurling his body like a cat.
"Good evening." He offered his hand, "Jefferson Haigwood. And you are?" He cocked his head and locked eyes with me. That look would make anyone else's heart flutter. Since I was pretty sure he was involved in something evil, I wasn't so easily drawn in.
"Juliet. This is Kannen." He appeared ordinary, but oozed power. It pulsed off him, slick and dark. When I touched his hand it made my stomach roll and twist.
"Ah." He nodded as though he knew exactly who we were. Maybe he did. He sat back down, but gave no signal for us to do the same. "What brings you to my humble place of business? You're not with the tax office, are you?"
"Hardly." I crossed my arms and slouched where I stood. I might as well give the impression I was relaxed, even if every nerve was on guard against him. Instinct suggested I should run him through right now. The presence of Smith and a pair of goons in the corner of the room hinted that might not be a sensible course of action.
Kannen and I could probably take them all, but then there was a lair full of the gods knew who or what else. Recklessness might get us killed. I would prefer if that didn't happen today.
"We're looking for jobs," Kannen said.
I blinked and attempted to keep the surprise from my face. "Yes. That's exactly why we're here," I agreed quickly. I eyed him sideways. What the hells was he up to?
"You're cleaners?" Haigwood's eyes twinkled with humour.
Smith laughed, loud enough to startle me. "Haha, cleaners? That's a good one, mate."
I frowned. "Are you casting aspersions on our cleaning ability?"
Smith looked at me for a moment, brow creased. Then he laughed again. "Yes. If you're cleaners, I'm the King of bloody England."
"Your highness." Haigwood gave him a bow.
I rolled my eyes. "We're not here for that." I gave Kannen a meaningful look, eyes wide. What job are we here for then?
"We thought you might need some decent bodyguards. These guys look kinda lame." Kannen gestured toward the two. One glared, while the other looked as though he didn't understand the exchange.
"See?"
"Clive, look alive." Haigwood pulled a dagger out from under his suit and flung it across the room. The guard, his hand a blur, plucked it out of the air before it hit him in the throat.
"He looks as dumb as a brick, but he's quicker than a snake." Haigwood looked smug. He tucked the knife away. "Stefan is quicker still."
"I see you like similes," Kannen remarked. "But that's only two of them. Surely they sleep?"
"I have others."
"Are they the best?"
Haigwood squinted. "They should be, I pay them well enough."
"Maybe these two ladies should prove they can do the job?" Smith looked sly.
Kannen's blade was at Smith's throat before he'd finished talking.
"Enough proof for you?" Kannen asked. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
Smith looked unperturbed. "You're quick, but I ain't the enemy." His chin jerked toward Stefan.
Stefan threw himself at Kannen a moment later. The guard didn't make it a step before he froze, Kannen's blade embedded in his throat. His eyes widened in shock, a hand flew up to his neck. Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, he slumped to the floor.
Haigwood sighed. "Now I need a cleaner."
"Lucky you don't have carpet." I eyed the dead guard, then his companion. If Clive was bothered by Stefan's death, he showed no sign of it. He stood in the corner, indifferent expression on his face.
"He knew Stefan was going to go after you?" I guessed. I turned my gaze to Haigwood. "It seems everyone knew but you."
"I knew." He might have lied, I couldn't tell.
"He passed the test." Haigwood gestured toward Kannen.
"We're a team," Kannen said quickly.
"I'm sure I can find someone for your friend to kill." Haigwood smiled. "A demon like me has enemies."
"Surely not," I said dryly.
"I know right?" He looked innocent. "I'm so likeable. And yet, here we are." He waved a hand toward the dead guard. "I guess there's no accounting for taste."
He was right, he was likeable. That made him even more dangerous.
"Are you into anything illegal?" I asked.
"Who, me?" He pointed at himself. "Of course I am. These suits don't come cheap. You won't tell anyone, will you? The police are such a bother."
"My lips are sealed." I mimed zipping them shut and tossing the key over my shoulder.
"Thank you." He bowed and I caught sight of a leather necklace around his neck.
A donut shaped stone of some sort dangled at the end of it. Green, with veins of black, it looked harmless at first glance, but I knew witches liked to cast spells on stones for any number of reasons, some more harmful than others.
I would bet my Demon Hunter pension it was the source of all the trouble. I couldn't rule out the idea he didn't know what it was or what it did.
I glanced at Kannen, who nodded, just slightly. He had seen it too, but his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts.
My tongue darted over my lips and I forced a smile. "So, are we hired?"
"Sure, why not." Haigwood shrugged. "You can start by finding out who Stefan was working for."
"Your sister," Clive said, his expression unreadable.
"Well," Haigwood threw his hands up in the air, "I guess I'll have to think of something else for you to do."
"You aren't curious as to why your sister might want you dead?" I asked.
"Oh hells no, she's hated me for years. It was only a matter of time before she sent someone after me again."
"Again?" Kannen asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side.
"What can I say, she's jealous of my good looks and success." Haigwood looked unashamed of his lack of humility.
"They fought over their parent's estate," Smith supplied. "Madison was pissed off that they left all their money and assets to him."
Haigwood huffed. "She got a few things. A car. A modest house. Mother's bad temper and father's enormous nose. What more does she want?"
"The mansion in Pott's Point and several million dollars." Smith leaned down and tugged Kannen's knife out of Stefan's neck. He wiped it clean on the man's shirt and offered it back to Kannen.
He took it and tucked it away. "It sounds like the proceeds of crime go back a generation or two." He held up his hands. "Not that I'm judging."
Haigwood drew himself up a little taller. "I come from a long line of entrepreneurs," he replied, "all with a taste for shiny things. My sister is a drama queen who needs to learn to live within her more modest means. Paying my guard to assassinate me, for example, would have cost a fortune."
"Yes, you have a point there." Smith grimaced down at Stefan. "Perhaps you should send her the bill for the clean up."
Haigwood snapped his fingers. "Good idea. Or better yet, I could send her his head."
"Uh, that might be a bit too extreme, mate," Smith said.
/>
"Just a little," I agreed. "Does she send you presents, by any chance? Nice ones? Like the necklace you're wearing."
Anger flashed in Haigwood's eyes and for a moment I thought I'd overstepped. My hand, hanging near my knife, twitched.
Haigwood pressed a hand to his chest, over the stone. "My sister doesn't have such impeccable taste," he replied. "Nor the money to afford such a treasure. Speaking of treasure." His demeanour returned to his previous congeniality. "I have a task for you both. To prove yourselves, as it were."
"Yes," I said warily. "What might that be?"
"I want you to find the Eye of Caramar."
His words were followed by silence, unbroken until Kannen burst out laughing.
"The Eye of Caramar is a myth." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Like the Loch Ness monster and honest politicians."
I snorted. "Or the Bermuda Triangle." I raised my eyebrows when they all looked at me. "What? It's a series of coincidences. Nothing more."
Haigwood sighed loudly. "Next you'll tell me Atlantis wasn't real."
"Well—" I shrugged. "What makes you think this Eye is real?"
"It's not," Kannen said firmly. "It's a wild goose chase for rich people and fortune hunters. If it existed, it would have been found long ago."
"People these days have no imagination," Haigwood complained. "No wonder movie producers keep recycling the same old ideas. Maybe it does exist, it's just too well hidden." He looked from one face to another. "You're not going to try, are you?"
"No, we're not," Kannen replied. "But we can keep you safe."
Maybe from yourself, I thought. He seemed harmless. Nice, even. That might make him more dangerous than a shade or a snarky ant demon. A person could drop their guard around someone like him, and earn themselves a knife in the guts.
My attention shifted to Clive. He, too, wasn't what he seemed, I was sure of it. He played the role of meat-head guard to perfection, but he probably had a PhD in engineering or something.
I wouldn't even take Smith at face value. Maybe it was the no nonsense demeanour. Had he felt the impact of the whammy, or did he have a few drops of demon blood running through his veins?
Hunting Darkness (City of Darkness Book 1) Page 10