Wicked Misery (Miss Misery) (37 page)

“Ladies and gentlemen.” He spread his arms in a faux-welcoming gesture, and the microphone made his voice echo. “I’m so glad you could come tonight.”

More cheers, some foot stomping, all from the furies. The bleachers shook.

“We have a very impressive list of fights building. New ones are still being posted by the betting booths. But before we begin, I’m happy to announce we already have our first formal challenge of the night, one that should be no surprise.” He grinned like a maniac. I tensed.

Raj gestured elaborately toward the sylphs. “Assym, please come down.”

A few satyrs swore as the sylphs’ Dom, flanked on each side by two other sylphs, made his way to the ring. The spotlights circled the warehouse before merging on the group. This time the sylphs clapped.

“Make way for the challenger,” Raj yelled, creating more feedback. He pumped his fist into the air, and the furies and company shouted over the hideous electronic shrieking.

To my right, Dezzi had pulled in the satyr troops. It was obvious what was coming next, and my hopes for finding Victor without any bloodshed tumbled down the bleachers in a painful demise.

Raj shushed the audience with his hands. “And now for the challenge…” He drew out the word as he spun around, pulling in the entire warehouse with his theatrics. “Dezdemona, please come down.”

Dezzi raised her chin, her eyes flashing a dangerous black. “Let’s go.” She gave me a warning glance and descended the platform. Lucen, Devon, Lucrezia and another satyr took up the rear. The spotlights turned on them.

My stomach turned on me. No one in the satyr crowd clapped.

“Welcome, Dezdemona,” Raj said.

“Spare me, Raj.” The microphone caught Dezzi’s voice. “What are you doing?”

The fury cupped his hands together with glee. “The challenge will be issued.” He stepped away from the microphone.

Assym cleared his throat. “I’ve been speaking with Gunthra about ways to avoid unpleasantries that might have a negative impact on Shadowtown. We’d rather the Gryphons not have a reason to be so interested in our affairs again. So we settle this like civilized people. Whoever of your people is responsible for murdering our addicts faces off against the same number of my people of my choosing.”

Damn the bright lights casting so many shadows. I desperately wanted to see Dezzi’s reaction, but she was too far away. I wove through the bleachers, trying to get closer.

“My people,” said Dezzi, and her voice could have frozen a salamander, “did not kill your addicts.”

“This is a formal challenge, Dezdemona. Will you back down?”

The warehouse settled into a heavy silence. The last noise—my boots colliding with the metal bleachers—died away as I reached the concrete floor. From here, I had no trouble seeing the conflict that warred across Dezzi’s face. To back down showed weakness and left the satyrs open to aggression and their addicts vulnerable to theft. But to accept implied there was truth in the accusation. All eyes in the warehouse watched.

And it was my fault. This challenge was because I’d gone to Lucen for help. Because he’d put me under the satyrs’ protection without consulting Dezzi first. Because he’d tried to help me.

This should be my fight.

Lucen leaned over and whispered in Dezzi’s ear. I held my breath as they conversed, then Dezzi nodded.

“We murdered no sylph addicts,” Dezzi said. “But if you wish to fight because of your own blindness, Assym, then my third accepts your challenge.”

My throat constricted and caught my heart within it. No. I had to do something.

I couldn’t stand by and watch Lucen do this for me. Not on top of everything else he’d already done over the last ten years. He’d stopped me from going crazy the day I’d formally been denied entry into the Gryphons. He’d helped me when I first started swapping souls. He’d taken me in when I freaked and ran this past week. And maybe he’d enjoyed the taste of my anger and fear and misery, but what he’d given me in return far outweighed it—hope, redemption, safety.

A chill pierced me. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him do one more thing. The thought of him bloodied and beaten made me sicker than I’d been on Gunthra’s couch earlier. After all I’d done in return—refused to trust him, led him on, argued with him, let him know just how evil I thought he was—I couldn’t do this.

Truth bashed me over the head, and I squeezed the chain-link railing for support. Fuck. I’d gone and done what I always rolled my eyes at other women for. I’d fallen for the bad boy. Only an idiot, a misery addict like myself, could be so dumb and self-destructive. But there it was, and whether Lucen had his own selfish reasons for everything didn’t matter anymore because letting him risk his life was going to make me hurl, and frankly I was sick of feeling sick today.

Before I could come to my senses, I charged across the stage, the stolen handcuffs smacking me in the hip. “No! I’m the one you started accusing. You’ll fight me.”

A hush swept through the warehouse. That lasted all of a few seconds, and soon the air bubbled over with the shocked whispers of thousands of people turning to their neighbors and going, “Did she really say what?”

Snickers followed. I had half a mind to flip everyone off, but really they laughed for a good reason. A moronic human had volunteered to off herself.

“No,” Lucen said. “I made the offer.”

Dezzi closed her long-suffering eyes. “You are insane. No. I forbid it.”

“You can’t forbid it. I’m not a satyr.” Entirely. Besides, what Dezzi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me. “You’re not my Dom.”

“No, no she’s not.” Assym’s face had lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “We’ll accept her.”

“She does not have my permission.”

“And as she pointed out, she doesn’t need it.” Raj bounced on his heels with excitement.

“Jess.” Lucen’s forced calmness was chilling. “You have nothing to lose by withdrawing your offer.”

No, nothing. Just you.

After my chat with Gunthra, I’d already lost most of my self-respect. Not to mention a good deal of my grasp on sanity. That was enough. I wasn’t losing my sense of right and wrong, and this was right.

“I’m not withdrawing it. This is my problem. They accused me first. It’s me they can have.”

The collective murmuring of the audience had reached its limits. The noise flooded my ears. I glanced over. Behind the chain link stood Red-eye and Mace-head. Slowly, an idea swirled about in my brain. Maybe I wasn’t dead yet.

Raj grabbed the microphone. “You’re Jessica?” He thrust it in my face.

“Yes.”

“Her name’s irrelevant,” Lucen said. “She’s not doing this.”

Assym raised his hands triumphantly, and the sylphs now created a racket to rival the furies’. “Since Dezdemona refuses to play, we withdraw the challenge to the satyrs and give it to Jessica the Soul Swapper, Jessica the Addict Killer.”

Asshole.
At least he hadn’t called me Jessica the Satyr’s Pet this time.

Ooh, maybe I should ask to be called Jessica the Satyr’s Abomination? That one gave me some edge.

Once again, I almost laughed in spite of myself. This time a brief surge in power shuddered through me.

The furies hooted and hollered. They always did get excited when they expected someone to die.

Lucen yanked the microphone from Assym’s hands. “All right, here’s another challenge for you, Assym, since you’re so fond of them. You kill her, and I will personally behead you tonight.”

That got the satyrs to their feet. The sound was deafening. I did my best to block it out, to focus all my energy on my sight, but it was impossible to see beyond the first row of spectators.

Come on, Victor baby. Where are you? Don’t you realize if I fight a sylph you’ll have nothing left to play with?
But Victor was either clueless or had been squashed amidst all the fury stomping.

Raj took control of the microphone again. “Assym, do you accept?”

Assym spluttered a bit, which allowed me to smirk. I wouldn’t have much time left to laugh, so I tried to enjoy it.

“Jess!”

I looked toward Lucen, which turned out to be the wrong direction. Hands grabbed me from behind. The furies were dragging me off the stage. I struggled but was no match.

More furies were shooing the satyrs and sylphs back into the stands. Raj was egging on the crowd and announcing which matches would be leading off. I paid attention even as I flailed. Normally, nonaddict versus nonaddict led off. The furies started with the weakest participants. Since I was the only human nonaddict in attendance though, they were beginning with addict versus addict. At least that bought me some time.

“Hey, wait!” I twisted about in the furies’ grasp. “Wait! Raj needs to know I have another fight that has to come first.”

“With who?”

I pointed to Red-eye and Mace-head with my right foot. “I need to talk to them about it.”

Behind us, the cage was being lowered. Bass-heavy music boomed from the loudspeakers. On either side, two pairs of fury addicts were pumping their fists, roaring and generally riling themselves up on testosterone and magic.

My two captors carried me to their brethren.

“You see,” Red-eye said, smiling at me. “I knew you’d enjoy it.”

I forced down my fear. If they didn’t go for this, I was toast. “You wanted me to fight Victor. You need to make sure I’m scheduled against him first. Otherwise, there won’t be enough of me left for him to fight, and I’d hate to deprive you.”

Red-eye’s face fell. “You suicidal bitch. How dumb are you?”

Pretty damn dumb, all things considered. But then, I’d had one hell of a day. “Well?”

“Raj!” The two of them took off.

I kept searching for Victor and kept not seeing him. The furies were pointing to me and arguing their case. Assym argued back. Probably both sides thought only one would get a chance at me. Possibly both were right.

The furies holding me seemed dumbfounded by this new wrinkle and loosened their grip. I shook my arms free and strode over to Raj.

“Assym, Assym, if she’d already agreed…” He threw me a devil’s smile. “If she fights another human first, she stands a better chance of surviving until a second fight.”

Assym was shaking with anger. “My people deserve justice.”

“Look at it this way.” I poured as much sweetness as I could muster into my voice. “If Victor kills me first, then you don’t have to worry about your person killing me, and thus don’t have to worry about Lucen chopping your ugly head off.”

Red-eye and Mace-head both snorted, and for a second I almost liked them for it.

“She’s got a point,” Raj said.

Assym reddened. “This is not justice.”

“No.” Raj grinned. “This is the Matches. It’s much more fun than justice.” Turning to me he added, “Go have a seat in the bullpen. I want this fight on soon. If you live, you need time to recover, or your fight with Assym’s person will be over too quick.”

“Yeah, I’d hate for everyone not to get their money’s worth.”

My escorts attempted to grab my arms, but I dodged them and headed toward the waiting area. Unlike in baseball where the bullpen always looked comfortable, the furies took the name more literally. I was pushed into a cage with a few rage addicts who were cheering on the fighters.

Assym stalked over, surrounded by his two goons. “You won’t die, satyr’s pet.”

“Aw, too scared of Lucen’s threat, are you?”

He stiffened. “Hardly, but I don’t believe in wasting interesting things. I told you I’d break you, and when my warrior is done with you, you’ll be begging for addiction to end the pain.”

He turned away before I could think of a suitable retort. Wonderful. And a moment ago I’d merely been worried about dying.

I rested my head against the mesh. Damn Gunthra for withholding that last crucial bit of information. I didn’t have much time to riddle out my allegedly dangerous power.

A couple rage addicts who overheard our conversation gave me funny looks, but I ignored them, and soon the bouts had their full attention.

This up close and personal to the fighting stages I smelled the sweat and blood. Worse, some of it occasionally sprayed me. I crept to the back of the cage. Rather than focus on the grunts, crunches and screaming from the fighting areas, I had best use this time to plan.

Step one—don’t die. Step two—don’t let Victor die, either. I needed him alive to tell me who his master was and so I could hand him to the Gryphons. Step three—don’t die again in an effort to take down Victor’s master. I so didn’t see step three going well. Then, of course, there was the small problem of Assym, who I doubted cared at all about my guilt or innocence at this point.

A sickening squelching sound came from the nearest stage. I closed my eyes. The addicts in the cage with me laughed sympathetically at the victim.

“Jess.”

A sweet, lusty magic chased away the revolting sights and sounds around me. Devon faced me, his fingers wrapped around the steel.

“Where’s Lucen?”

“He said he’d kill you himself if he got too close. He and Dezzi are scheming to get you out of fighting, but just in case, take these. Quickly.” He pulled three curse grenades from his pocket and slipped them to me through the mesh.