the vampire. If it works, or if it doesn't, step back into the circle and use the gauze to seal it. Do you
understand?»
«Yes.»
«Obey her,» Curran said quietly.
Dali swallowed. «Yes, my lord.»
We headed to the front.
The vamp would be drawn to fresh blood. Especially my blood. The navigator would feel the
draw and send it after Dali. That left us facing the troll and the golem. As long as they stood,
Cyclone was safe.
«Choices, choices,» I murmured.
We stood side by side. «We take the troll,» Curran said.
«Yes.»
Once the vampire got ahold of Dali's magic and hopefully not of Dali herself, the golem would
strike at her, trying to take her out. If she did everything right, he'd fail, which would give us a few
seconds for a tete-a-tete with the troll.
The troll grinned.
«Keep smiling, pretty boy.» I swung the swords, warming up my wrists.
Curran was eyeing the golem. The damned thing was silver.
«The golem is mine. Don't screw with my shit.»
«In this Pit, everything is mine,» he said.
The sound of the gong was like my heart exploding.
Magic sliced from Cyclone. The air accreted around me and clamped me down like a wet
blanket, growing heavier, compressing, squeezing . . . The air lock. I froze. Across from me, Curran
stood still like a statue, a small smile curving his lips. He recognized the spell as well.
The vamp flew across the sand.
The golem ran toward me.
A hard, cold blade of magic ripped through us. Somewhere in the stands a hoarse scream
announced a Master of the Dead losing a vampire. Go, Dali.
The air clamped me like shackles and froze, fixing me in a death hold. Good enough.
Curran exploded into warrior form. A seven-and-a-half-foot-tall nightmare rose in his place:
layered with muscle, dark gray, stripes like streaks of smoke against a velvet pelt. This time, instead
of the awful meld of human and lion, a lion head sat on his shoulders, complete with enormous
jaws. Only Curran could do this: keep most of his body in one shape while turning a part into
another.
I launched myself into the air. The air lock shattered with a sound like torn paper. It was
designed to restrain a panicking victim. The more you struggled, the harder it held you. But let it
settle and you could shatter it with sudden movement.
The golem veered left, heading for Dali instead. Cyclone stumbled, momentarily woozy from
having his spell broken.
The troll was on us. I darted close, under the troll's gut. Wood or no wood, he walked, which
meant his knees bent. I thrust my swords between his legs and sliced the backs of his knees. He
didn't go down but he grabbed for me. That's right-look at me, you overgrown log.
A sick stench of decomposition spread through the Arena. My eyes watered.
The demonic monstrosity that was Curran landed on the troll's back. The awful lion jaws gaped
wide and clamped on to the troll's thick neck. White teeth flashed, bit, sliding between the cervical
vertebrae, and sliced the spinal cord like scissors. The troll's head drooped to the side, dark blood
bubbling gently to stain his shoulders. Curran grabbed the skull and tore the head from the neck.
His face snapped into the horrible chimera of half-human, half-lion, and he hurled the troll's head at
Cyclone.
The mage made no move to dodge. He just stared, stunned. The head smashed into him, taking
him off his feet. He fell limp. I whipped about.
Dali slumped inside the ward, her hands crossed protectively over her head. Her face and
shoulder were wet with blood, tracing the long rip in her shirt. But the wound had already sealed.
The golem struck at her, his blades a whirl of metal, and bounced from the ward, each hit
sending a pulse of burgundy through the spell. A pile of putrid flesh sagged next to Dali with a
small rectangle of rice paper stuck to its top. A lonely kanji character glowed pale blue from the
paper.
She'd done it. She'd taken out the vampire.
«You okay?» I shouted to her, too late remembering that she couldn't hear me.
She raised her head, saw me, and held out her thumb.
«Hey, tincan boy!» I barked. «Bring it!»
The golem turned, raising a cloud of sand into the air, and charged me. I waited with my swords
raised.
He lunged. The blade slid by my cheek, fanning my skin. He was preternaturally fast. But it
wasn't my first time. I matched his speed.
Strike, strike, strike.
I blocked him every time, letting his blades glance off mine. A familiar welcome warmth spread
through my body. My muscles became pliant, my movements easy. He was fast and well trained,
but I was fast too and trained better.
The blades became a whirl. I laughed and kept blocking. You want to go there? Fine. Let's go.