“This is bullshit!” I pretty much shouted.
Ryder’s hands snaked out and grabbed the sides of my face, cradling it as he brought me close to him, resting his forehead on mine. “Life isn’t fair, Charlie.” His breath tickled my nose; the delicious scents coming from him had me wanting to lean even closer, to touch my lips to his. Of course that was when he pulled away a little.
“I’ve seen a small fire smoldering inside of you since the day I brought you in. When those doors open, I need you to unleash that fire. Your opponent already has death on his hands. He won’t hesitate to do it again. You need to be ready, you need to fight to survive.”
His words roared through me like the fire he spoke of. Ryder had reminded me of the most important thing. It was simple math – the other ash or me. I nodded, relishing his warm hands on me. He left them there for one short moment and then pulled back quickly, his stoic façade falling back over his face. He tucked the throwing stars in my waist belt and opened the double doors.
“You can do this,” was all he said, before nudging me out and shutting the doors behind me.
And just like that, I was in the culling arena.
I forced down the burn of fear and bile as my eyes alighted on the spectators, their feet pounding on the bleachers above. A vampire crossed the floor toward me. He was wearing the official uniform of the judges, a flamboyant royal purple full-length silk robe, with checkering of black and white.
He checked me over to make sure I wasn’t holding any illegal weapons. I glanced across the room at my opponent, who was in the middle of the same checks, and was a little surprised to see it was one of the black-haired guys who had attacked Jayden and I outside that day. Some of my fear left, replaced by anger again. Bastard. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as I feared. After all, karma was a bitch. And so was Charlie when she was cornered.
Black-haired ash was holding a samurai sword in an expert grip. I noted that his neck was bandaged, as was his ankle. These were the weak spots. The judge vamps left the field then and the fighter buzzer rang. I wasted no time sprinting toward him, prepared to meet him head on. We were separated by fifty feet of open gym, a scattering of low walls, hay bales and other shit to hide around was strewn about. It reminded me of a paintball course and it changed between every fight. Some of the floor was still lined with blue mats, other parts stone or cement.
I grabbed one of the throwing stars from where Ryder had stashed them, palming it. I would hold on to them until he was closer, especially since I had no clue how to throw them accurately.
I hesitated, even as the distance closed between us, and it wasn’t until we were about fifteen feet apart, the black of his eyes reflecting the large spotlights above us, then I chucked one. He dodged in a rapid movement and it sailed past his left shoulder. Okay, I officially sucked at throwing shit. Why had we spent so much time training with a sword? The other guy’s sponsor must have noted this, and chosen something I had barely touched.
I focused. I couldn’t let him get near me with that sword. I loaded two stars into my hands this time. When he was ten feet from me – aggressively charging – I figured I couldn’t miss him, and let them both go at the same time. One sailed right past but the other sank into the side of his injured neck. Hell yeah, luck was on my side.
He faltered, his muffled groan pain-filled as he stopped to rip the star free. Then, in the next moment, he did as Ryder and I had hoped. As he pulled the star free – my stomach churned at the chunk of flesh that went with it – he lowered his sword against his side. I ignored the blood and flesh. I didn’t have time to deal with squeamishness right now, this was my best chance to relieve him of his weapon. I took the chance that he wouldn’t expect me to come at him so violently.
I booked it, closing the gap between us, and before he could bring up the sword, I did my five step combo. It was like breathing for me now, no thought, just pure remembered instinct. My left hand flew out and sank into his jaw. I ignored the pain in my knuckles as my right fist connected with his temple. I heard the sword drop, but I didn’t allow it to break my concentration. Knee to his ribs and he keeled over. Changing my routine, I improvised and pushed his shoulders, which were at my stomach level, shoving him backwards.
Thank you, Ryder, for drilling that boring-ass combo into my head. Who knew it would be so effective.
Dropping to the ground I retrieved the sword and the crowd went wild. My opponent recovered quickly, his dark eyes narrowing and fangs flashing as he spun himself on the ground. He was faster than I expected, and used his position to kick out and trip me. I kept my grip on the sword, knowing that if I lost it now I was as good as dead. I stumbled forward, somehow managing to keep my balance. I then righted myself. He flung his legs out, doing a kick up, and was suddenly standing before me.