by Lisa Daniels
Theon seemed to be curling his lip in distaste as she spoke, confirming her own thoughts. He found the idea of Iretha One-Eye’s body being taken as an outrage, too. Even though he tried to play it down.
If Theon ever died, he would be the kind of soul that could turn revenant, if his bones were ever disturbed. A little chill went through her. She didn’t like picturing Theon as anything other than being alive. Her mouth went dry and her heart palpitated as the realization of how much danger they were both in hit home. This was not the place to be. She shouldn’t be here. Neither of them should be here. What was to stop someone attempting to turn Theon into a spirit slave? Shifter spirits were prized in some venues, she knew, and she’d just seen the monstrous hostility of Iretha One-Eye. She could still feel his spirit poisoning her, even though it was all in her imagination right now.
“Are you okay?” Theon whispered, steadying her with one big, warm hand. “You seem a little freaked out.”
“We can’t just go ahead and snatch the bones away mid-event, can we? We have to keep coming.”
“Yes,” Theon rumbled. “But since you know who it belongs to, we can be sure Regal will continue to attend his own events.”
“It has to be elite-ranking people,” Morgana said. “Maybe they’re even buying them from underground auctions. Flogging off bones on the black market.”
“Jesus, really?” Theon’s eyes went wide, and Morgana simply nodded in response. Lots of illicit things turned up underground, and not everyone was willing to get their hands dirty. Would they maybe need to attend an auction event? With the kind of spirit Morgana had, would it seem suspicious? Either way, they needed to get their hands on an auction date.
She’d see if she could arrange one from Regal later, as non-suspiciously as possible. Maybe if she lost the two-versus-one fight…
“Just so you know, if you win, we’re going to celebrate later,” Theon said, a rather devilish smile imprinting upon his lips. “Give you the victor’s reward.”
“And if I lose?”
“Then no reward. That’s the way of things, I’m afraid.” Something about the way Theon’s eyes smoldered there made Morgana’s knees go treacherously weak. She hitched in an annoyed breath at her own reaction, because the last thing she wanted was to start potentially swooning in the middle of a deadring event. These people were not to mess around with.
She responded with a sly smirk of her own. New resolve solidified in her spine. Whatever happened, she’d do her darnedest to win.
Chapter Eight – Theon
Theon watched Morgana raise Beverly from the heap of bones. He watched as Blight and Eleganza in turn raised their own—one from a body, another from bones—and something about Eleganza’s spirit set his teeth on edge. While Beverly’s spirit leaked blue and gold around the bones, drawing little gasps from the crowd when two point-thin swords protruded from the spirit, one in each hand, Blight’s had no aura at all, and Eleganza’s pulsed a noxious black and red.
Iretha One-Eye? Except Morgana said that the spirit belonged to Regal. Last time he checked, Regal didn’t have boobs. Speaking of Regal, the man watched hungrily from the side, his gold eyes holding a kind of sinister malevolence all by themselves.
Maybe Regal expected Morgana to lose. Beverly was set upon by “Fredriksson” and “Bundy”, and for a moment, Theon wondered wildly if they’d managed to unearth Ted Bundy’s bones. But the first name to Bundy was Georgia, so most unlikely. Fredriksson and Bundy attacked Beverly like wolves lunging for the throat, savage and unrestrained. Bundy was noticeably more vicious, that dark red aura flickering in hatred.
While Morgana sat in her trance, Beverly sliced through her opponents, fast and purposeful, not flourishing any moves. She was perfect. Always taking just the right amount of distance to avoid a blow, slashing and stabbing at any openings that presented themselves, a blue-gold blur that now caused members of the crowd to cheer for Crimson.
First time for everything, Theon thought, feeling his own blood rise, his own thirst for the fight take over his brain, until he, too, was cheering for Morgana, howling with the crowd, throwing his huge fists into the air.
Crimson! Crimson! Crimson!
Eleganza’s teeth were bared in furious concentration in her trance, while Blight began to sway, as if a strong wind was buffeting him back and forth.
Beverly swooped low and cut through the spirit’s ankles as if swimming, though it seemed the spirit didn’t anticipate how fast Bundy healed, because she took a savage slash to the back. Morgana rocked backward, and Theon’s attention went to her, noting how her fists were clenched, how her body trembled with aggressive tension.
She can’t afford to take any blows, Theon realized, and every time he saw Beverly misstep, or take a glancing strike to her spirit, his own stomach sank lower and lower. Beverly was beautiful, breathtaking, clearly more controlled and poised in her attacks. She was just against two opponents that never let up, that had more energy to spare than Morgana did.
For the first time, Beverly let out a bloodcurdling scream, when in previous fights, she was always silent and driven. With that scream, she transformed into a whirlwind of swords, spinning in a vicious, tight circle, focusing on Fredriksson until Blight slumped onto the floor, unconscious, and Fredriksson suddenly became the dead body that he was.
Bundy, staggering under the fresh onslaught Beverly offered, struggled to get a blow in. Beverly wasn’t fighting so much as bludgeoning Bundy’s corrupted spirit. Eleganza swayed ominously, though it was clear she was fighting with every last ounce of her magical energy to outlast Morgana. Theon’s charge was trembling more violently, too, nearing the last of her strength, probably unleashing everything to fuel Beverly Heath’s powerful siege upon Bundy, until the spirit wisped away from the bones with a gurgling shriek, and Eleganza’s eyes snapped open, furious and shocked at the same time.
Under the screams of the crowd, Beverly Heath lifted her swords into the air in acknowledgment of their support, strode over to Morgana, and dissolved into the bones once more.
“Help me up,” Morgana mouthed, and Theon lifted her to her feet, feeling that the strength had almost evacuated her body completely. They collected the bones of Beverly, placing them reverently into his backpack, before guiding Morgana over to Regal, who bore an utterly fathomless expression.
“Impressive,” he said in a colorless voice, and Theon noticed how Regal’s eyes shifted to Eleganza. “Though I’m afraid you’ve rather upset my daughter.”
Daughter? As one, Morgana and Theon turned to face Eleganza, who was helped toward them by her own bodyguard. Now that Theon really looked for it, he could see a slight family resemblance. Her eyes were blue compared to Regal’s gold, but she had a similar jawline, a shift in her cheekbones, lip shape.
“You’re a tough bitch,” Eleganza said to Morgana. “I’m angry as hell.” Her arm was draped around her stoic bodyguard, who kept a light touch upon her waist. “But if I had to be beaten by anyone, I’d prefer it to be another woman. We don’t get many here.”
“My daughter here is a good fighter, with a penchant for reining in the more vicious spirits,” Regal said with a certain note of pride in his tone, “but she’s still very rough around the edges.”
“That spirit’s dangerous,” Morgana said to Eleganza. “I’m surprised you can even control it. I think it’ll cause a lot of damage if you can’t rein it in.”
“I have perfect control, thank you very much,” Eleganza snapped, tossing back her raven-black hair. “But thanks for your concern.”
“We prefer those spirits,” Regal said with a light purr.
“Mm, it was tough,” Morgana said, before she straightened up. “Honestly, Blight was no competition. It was Eleganza who made me really work out. Wonder where you can find a spirit like that?”
Eleganza seemed to preen at the praise, but Regal turned calculating eyes upon Morgana. “You’re not happy with your spirit?”
“I’m happy,” Mo
rgana said. “But I wanted to get a second one for the fight. I checked all of the spare ones, and none of them were good enough for me. And I can’t exactly go and pick up a new set at the thrift store, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” Regal said, now wearing the kind of smile that sang of danger. Theon bristled, subconsciously trying to make himself bigger, though he doubted anyone could intimidate someone like Regal. “Perhaps I might have something for you. With the reward earnings you’ll get from tonight, I’m sure you’ll be able to afford something. If you’re interested?”
“I might be,” Morgana said cautiously. “As long as it’s secure. I’m already a foreigner here. Last thing I want is to be arrested and shoved in a jail cell with all the necro-haters.”
“All of my events are secure,” Regal said, his smile stretching wider. “I have some reach beyond these places. My family is part of an old, old one in Stoneshire. When you have that kind of history, you have connections.”
“If you have connections,” Morgana said, “then why would you end up running something like this? No offense. Couldn’t you make it in normal society, too?”
“I can,” Regal conceded, not offended by her question at all. “But normal society is, well, normal. There’s no blood in it, no excitement. Not like this. It’s better than a fight pit where humans punch each other into brain damage. It’s better than shoving two poor beasts together and forcing them to rip one another up for entertainment. It gives necromancers a place in society. They use bodies no longer in use, and spirits that are just languishing in Samhain’s Beard anyway. It gives us a place,” Regal said, jabbing at his chest. “A place that we need.”
“Do you have a spirit of your own?” Morgana asked.
Regal fell silent for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “And no, you can’t see it. Not yet. But if you’re interested in the auction, then come to this address next Saturday. I’ll give you at least a three-week reprieve after that to connect with your new spirit, if you buy one. But next time I see you in the deadring, I’m going to give you the fight of your life. Do not disappoint me.” His eyes glittered.
There was something he wasn’t saying, Theon was sure. Something that might throw a major wrench in their plans. Even Eleganza’s eyes had gone narrow in suspicion, facing Regal.
But whatever it was, it would need to be kept in doubt for now. He needed to get Morgana home, for while she was standing there, trying to focus fire the important questions and topics with Regal, he could visibly see her strength failing. She wouldn’t last much longer. Not like this.
With the address secured, and Eleganza glaring after them in both envy and admiration, Theon tried not to look like he was carrying Morgana out of the deadring. In the car journey back to the suite, Morgana engaged in a call with Rosen Grieves, informing her that Iretha One-Eye was located and that she was going to an auction next week that sold corpses, before ending the call and slumping wearily against her seat, drifting out of focus.
Time to tuck the weary necromancer in bed. He half-carried her inside, and when they made it to her bed, she plummeted onto it like a stone, refusing to budge and letting out only a mild grunt when Theon asked if she wanted something from the fridge, something to order to eat or drink.
He felt a mild disappointment at her tiredness, because he did want to celebrate as previously promised. He had some hopes that maybe they might address the unspoken tension between them, that maybe something would happen. Even though he knew it was technically wrong and a bad idea, that sense of interest never left. And his inner animal definitely wanted to explore the possibility. He’d be crazy to completely deny it. And with all the violence from the deadring, from watching all those fighters clash against one another, clawing for victory at any cost, it was… invigorating, to say the very least.
But perhaps too exhausting as well. Morgana flopped on the bed, and he focused on making a hot chocolate, doing the preparations for bedtime. She didn’t always take such a drink, but he noticed in recent weeks that she was partial to it after a mentally and physically draining day. Probably she’d be asleep by the time he handed it to her, or he might just see her face light up in weary appreciation for receiving something from him.
He sat on the side of her bed and gently nudged her on the shoulder. When he got a half-asleep grunt in response, he wafted the hot chocolate in front of her nose so she could smell it and decide whether or not she wanted to make the effort to snatch it out of his hands.
Her eyes fluttered open in sudden interest, and a slow grin spread over her face. “Nice,” she said, reviving enough to take the drink. “You know me so well.”
“Can’t help but be a little observant,” he said, smiling to hide his slight embarrassment at her words. He didn’t want to seem too eager, too forward; he wanted to make her feel at ease at the very least. “And you’ve nearly had the shit kicked out of you going against two people. How’d it feel?”
“Awful,” Morgana said, now starting on her drink, sitting up enough so that their shoulders bumped together, and their legs. He was acutely aware of the close contact, and even though they had clothes on, it felt to him like tiny ripples of lightning snaking through his cells and zapping up his brain, threatening an arousal. “I hated having to be near that awful excuse for a spirit Eleganza controls. Like any moment I just wanted to be sick. Or any moment its poison would just overwhelm Beverly and make her the same.”
“How close were you to running out of energy?” he asked.
“I basically ran out just after the second body fell,” Morgana admitted. “But since Beverly was no longer fighting, I could keep it together just long enough for her to show off, then whoosh. That was it. If he makes me go against three next time, I’m finished.”
“Well, you can always buy a new spirit from the auction, right?” Theon raised an eyebrow as she almost spluttered over her drink.
“Oh, I’m not doing that,” she said, wiping her chin. Theon’s attention perhaps lingered a little too long upon the way the chocolate ran down the side of her lip. “Just seeing if we can buy officially the missing bones. The police are planning to provide a budget—they don’t want it to be all over the news that some necromancer auction in the city was shut down. But I guess if there’s a lot of valuable bodies, then they might send a crackdown unit.”
“Makes sense. At least no one’s tried to assassinate you yet, so that makes my job a lot easier,” Theon said, playfully hitting his shoulder into her, then apologizing when she spilled a little of her drink. He added, “You need to drink way faster.”
“Jesus, man, don’t put so much pressure on me!” She swatted him, decided that was a bad idea, and carefully placed the mug down and out of danger. “Did you have anything in mind for the celebrations tonight? Or was it victory hot chocolate?”
Unbidden, the image of gripping Morgana’s hair in that moment, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her furiously as they adjusted positions until he was on top and pressing into her body, lit his mind. Desire shivered through him, and it took everything to not make that painfully visible. The last thing he needed was to have the obvious boner. “Well, I admit I was hoping you might have enough energy to have a meal of sorts, sort of a midnight pizza.”
“Mm… midnight pizza. Not a bad idea at all,” she said, grinning. “I’m damn well starving all of a sudden.”
He beamed.
Thirty minutes later, pizza had arrived in red and white boxes, his with a whole lot of different spicy meats on it, hers overloaded with mushrooms compared to everything else. They sat there happily munching through food, and it turned out she had a voracious appetite, chewing through the pizza at an exponential rate, including the crusts, until nothing remained.
“Okay… seems you were pretty hungry.”
“You try fighting two moving corpses at once and see if you don’t get hunger pangs outta it.” She licked her fingers, and it was a little distracting, to say the least. He probably should leave things be before the t
emptation became too much. Might be easier to give into the urge if they both were inebriated and could claim alcohol as lack of judgment. But right now, it was all them, and nothing else.
They continued joking, making light conversation, but at one point, it turned from light to heavy, when Morgana piled back some of her hair, stared at Theon, and said, “Do you think I’m in danger of dying if I continue with this line of work?”
Well, he’d be lying if he said no. There was a reason why insurance rates were high with this job, after all. For the both of them. “I think you’re lucky to have avoided anything serious happening to you,” he said cautiously. “But you are dealing with people who are willfully breaking the law for their own profits. It’s not a place to get relaxed in.”
“No, sir, it is not,” Morgana said softly. Her gaze went wide, glazed over as if lost in thought. “It’s not as violent as I imagined it to be. Though I suppose that’s a stupid statement. The people who fight aren’t living. They don’t really bleed. So it’s like hacking away at wooden dolls on one visual.”
Yet for something she described as wooden dolls, there was a visceral brutality to the way the spirits lunged at each other. Unlike human fighters, who had rules not to kill each other, no such rules existed here. The spirits attacked each other with a savage ferocity unmatched by anything else. There was something beautiful about it. Primal. It made Theon think of old clan stories about the bears that fought one another, often to the death, to win their land or win the love of another. There was no restraint then, when the only rule of survival was whether or not you were stronger than the other person.
“If they could find a way to make this legal,” Theon said, causing Morgana’s attention to solely focus on him, “I could see this becoming the kind of event a lot of people would watch. Some are really into the viciousness, you know? They say if you see enough brutality in a crowd, you’re less likely to act it out yourself.”