Becoming Bad (The Becoming Novels) (13 page)

The arena wasn’t the one she’d been expecting. She’d anticipated being down with the untame again. Instead, she found herself in a large, open-air crater. The moonless sky shimmered down, a shade of dark-red differentiated against the black shadows. Flames crackled in pits indented in the ground, delineating a circumference of rock big enough to park a double-decker bus. It was nature’s Colosseum, and she was to bear witness to the Contests.

‘Try to relax. They sense your tension.’ Mac’s palm was warm at the small of her back as he ushered her towards the far wall. Every eye in the place locked in on her. Ash cringed into the King, but he sidestepped her attempts to hide. Spotlighted and vulnerable, she cranked her chin up and walked with an imperious air she stole from the male at her side, her fear firmly quashed into her little toe. Wouldn’t do to reveal the true depths of her terror in front of this crowd.

You are stronger than you know,
she repeated, over and over
.
It had become a mantra.

They’re fascinated,
she told herself,
they don’t want to eat you, they want to fuck you. Break you.

Be unbreakable.

Easier said than done, when the foundations of her soul were quaking. Her nightmares were here in their hundreds. She let Mac direct her around the outskirts of the arena, passing the tiered benches cut into the walls, until they reached a larger rock formation where Mac had carved himself a fancy throne.

Of course he did,
she laughed internally
. A bench would never do for the Royal Ass.

Her gaze fell to the start of a similar structure beside his. Someone had begun to chisel another seat.
Oh hell no.

‘Would you prefer to sit in my lap, Ashling?’ His question startled her. Had she spoken out loud? Mac was seated and patting his knee with that egotistical smile on his face, the one that made her want to smack it off. She thought better of it when she looked back out to the expectant wolves.

‘No, this is good. I’ve got my own chair.’ Smiling sweetly, Ash folded herself cross-legged into the nook, arranging the delicate blue material of her dress to cover her legs. One thing she had to give him, the clothes he gave her were beautiful. Mac watched her with fire in his black eyes as she readjusted a braided strap and brought the heavy fall of her hair over one shoulder. She was fidgeting under his stare, nervously waiting for the proceedings to start. In the corner of her eye, she caught Mac motioning for the wolves to line up before the throne. Before her.

They were powerful specimens, the bodies they’d snatched those of ancient warriors.
Well duh, they were Viking brutes,
Ash thought
.
Clothed in nothing but strips of leather below the waist, the men were imposing in more senses than one. Ash flushed when she caught Fite’s glare from amongst the pack, his skin paler than the rest, standing out. She took to searching out the ones she recognised, while Mac called orders in grunting syllables. The language wasn’t familiar to her, but it didn’t take a translator to know he’d commanded them to kneel; falling to one knee, they sent howls to the open sky. The sound was so strange coming from the throats of men, like a kitten barking, the visual didn’t fit the audio.

Mac leaned into her and the wolves rose, pairing off. ‘Battle and competition are in our blood, Ashling. The tradition of the Contests goes back to ancient times.’

Mac had her attention but her eyes stayed on the men in the arena. Brandr stopped before her and swept down in a lavish bow. He was rewarded with a crinkle of her nose and sauntered off, laughing.

‘In the days before the Great War, the Contests were more a spectator sport, the untame, pitted against men, slaves mostly.’

‘That’s barbaric.’ Ash felt sickened. Connal’s father had put him in the fighting pits, hoping to purge his human weakness. She couldn’t bear to think of him being used as the entertainment in their sick, dog-baiting spectacle. She looked up at the King, hiding the emotion in her gaze with a sweep of her lashes. ‘What about now?’ she asked. These certainly weren’t men waiting to die, the energy in the room was downright enthusiastic.

‘The Contests were reinstated to decide who gets to spend time aboveground, during full moon.’

‘So there’s a quota on how many can go?’

‘There was,’ Mac replied. ‘Our exploits need no longer be confined to the neutral ground of Form.’ His face split into a broad grin.

‘Exploits?’ Ash arched a brow, ‘by which you mean biting innocent humans and turning them into your sex slaves.’

Mac stiffened. ‘So many males confined this way creates friction,’ he gestured to the arena, and Ash could almost smell the testosterone. ‘Tensions need to be worked off, one way or another.’

‘Then why limit yourselves to the safety of the club?’ Ash asked. ‘Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, Mac?’

That got a growl from his throat. ‘I value the lives of my men, finite in number as we are. We had a tacit agreement with the Morrígan: Stray from neutral ground, and all bets are off.’

‘So that’s what Connal was doing, hunting down the strays? But now he’s gone, and you have free run of the city.’

‘Precisely.’ He had the decency to drop his smug smile in the face of her glare. She saw it though, still twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Asshole.
She tried to picture Dublin, overrun by these creatures. God, it was going to be carnage.

The first pair stalked forwards, and she forced herself to sit back, drawing her knees to her chest. Her blood was alive with the energy filling the space. It put her on edge. The men were unfamiliar, but she still blushed when they discarded what little clothing they had on and looked to Mac. Ash looked anywhere but at them. More hand signals from the King and they exploded in a bone-cracking snap that rang howls around the arena.

She had trouble breathing. The massive wolves crashed together, bloodied on impact as claws and fangs ripped through flesh. Frightening creatures. Beautiful creatures. Her attention was fixed as growls spun like thunder in the cavernous space and the spectators bayed their excitement. Blood pulsed beneath her skin. Plugged into the circuit of violence flowing through the assembly, she had to fight the connection.

Bone glinted through gashes in their flesh, but the wolves paid no heed. Her stomach roiled and Connal’s white beast lay on the floor of its memory cage while she talked to it, while she cared … She pitied the creatures. Who would dress their wounds?

An agonised howl snapped her vision to the Contest in time to see a muddy-brown wolf fly into the wall. A sickening crack and it dropped to the floor. The baying racked up to a triumphant bellow. The victor came forward to rub his head against the King’s legs. MacTire remained unfazed as he gestured for another pair. Ash tried transplanting the barbaric scene before her to Dublin’s quiet, suburban streets, but couldn’t. Carnage would only be the start of it. If these things got loose, the civilised world was screwed.

‘Aren’t you afraid my grandmother will come back and smite you down herself?’ she asked.

‘She is governed by the laws of the Gods,’ Mac replied. ‘They love to meddle in the lives of mortals, but direct participation is forbidden. The Morrígan may not personally take life, or her own is forfeit. She merely incites others to murder
.
’

Ash struggled to reconcile the pathetic, disabled grandmother she’d visited in the nursing home with this creepy goddess Mac described.

‘This full moon we celebrate a new found freedom,’ he grinned.

‘So why are the Contests going ahead?’

‘My men fight in your honour, Ashling. You are their Queen.’

All this violence, is for me? That’s messed up,
she thought
. Don’t they have chocolates to give a girl instead?
But there was no denying the pleased growl that hummed from within her. She frightened herself. Ash needed to get out of there before she lost her humanity to the wild lure of these creatures. She cast her hook into the waters of Mac’s intel and fished.

‘The full moon is close, then?’

‘Tomorrow night,’ Mac nodded.

Her head snapped back on her neck, startling at his words. Tomorrow night. She could survive that long. She would. Same might not be said of the wolves in the ring. Smoky fur slicked with blood, the wolf was belly up beneath a snarling grey beast, its neck exposed to the savage canines inches from its throat. It whimpered and the room exulted. The display shook her, a vibration in the marrow of her bones, part excitement and a dose of disgust. Skin too tight and bones too heavy, her joints creaked and popped in their sockets as she watched.

The rules were pretty simple. Submission got them freedom from the arena, but they forfeited the right to go aboveground that month. Get thrown out of the ring and it was an instant loss. Like Werewolf Sumo Wrestling. There weren’t too many serious injuries; she’d seen what they could do. Connal had been in far worse condition than any of the competitors. Most disturbing of all, they looked to her when they delivered a particularly vicious blow, honouring her with the violence.

‘Tyr.’ Mac’s beckoning call startled her and Ash sat back, arms straining around her knees as she gathered into herself. There was a rope to her control and the brutality was quickly fraying it. Lips pressed into a thin line, she watched the male come forwards. God, he looked young, his baby-face framed by a mop of curly blond, blue eyes bright even in the gloomy fire-light. He was leaner than the muscle-bulked males, sculpted. When his massive opponent stepped forwards, the primal thing inside her growled a protective warning. Foreboding rose like a shadowed chill up her spine. This was not going to end well.

‘Is that fair?’ Ash whispered, angling herself to the King’s ear.

‘Just watch.’

As the fight got underway, Ash really started to wish she hadn’t obeyed him. The rope thinned a little more, the scene before her unravelling in a haze of red as blood spattered across the crowd. She felt as though she was in someone else’s skin, in
something
else’s skin. The pressure built, each slash and bite winding her tighter than a screw, until she was at break-point.

Tyr was pulverizing the larger wolf. Jaws clamped to its jugular, his powerful back limbs raked at the soft underbelly, slitting his opponent open from throat to groin. Ash snapped from her seat with a roaring protest. This wasn’t a competition. He wasn’t just winning. He was torturing.

‘STOP! Stop it!’ Darkness rolled through her growl until it was a menacing thunder on her lips, and then red crashed into her vision and she fragmented.

‘Come on, come on ... Come. On!’ Dangling the blood-soaked string of silk into the small hole he’d dug into the cave floor, Connal gritted out demands. Over the past hours, they’d perfected this technique of luring the filthy, razor-mouthed fleshworms to the surface. Though it cost them their own blood, the cuts to their forearms, coupled with a few nasty bites, seemed a small price for freedom. A couple of trial runs slinging the bait from the cave proved the raveners went wild for the juicy, blood-swollen grubs. Now, if only they could amass enough to give them the head-start they needed to make it down the mountain. The wriggling pile tied up in the remnant of the Doctor’s robe didn’t seem half-enough, but they were running out of time. ‘I hope you’re a good sprinter, Doc.’

The doctor smirked. ‘Those things come after us, I’m tripping you. Just remember that, Savage.’

‘Think you could catch me,
Thegn
?’ Connal laughed.

‘Hey, come here. Look at this.’ Madden turned back from the mouth of the cave, eyes animated. ‘It’s starting.’

Connal abandoned his fishing hole in the dirt and came to stand beside the doctor. He peered out into the darkness. Around the rim of the crater Madden pointed out earlier, there was a new glow, forming a halo of light on the horizon.

‘They’ve lit the arena for the Contests,’ Madden explained.

‘It’s too soon.’ Connal’s brows knitted. ‘We’re not ready.’

‘We don’t have a choice,’ Madden replied. ‘Listen to that. The fights have already begun.’

The muted echoes of a wildly cheering crowd filtered across the valley, and Connal’s blood ran to ice-water at the memories they carried with them. ‘How long have we got?’ he asked.

‘An hour. Two, tops.’ Madden’s troubled eyes fell on the sorry looking stash of bait. They both knew it was all that stood between them and being eaten alive.

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ Connal offered the doctor a grin, clapped him on the back, hard enough to rattle teeth, and bent to gather the makeshift sling and the bundle of fleshworms.

‘Savage,’ Madden said.

‘Yeah?’ Rocking back on his heels, Connal looked up at the doctor.

‘In case I don’t make it out ...’

‘Don’t jinx it, Doc. Much as I'm digging this half-naked, desert-island bromance we've got going on,’ he motioned a hand between them before stabbing a finger towards the doctor’s chest, ‘if you start in with the sappy goodbyes, I'm personally going to feed you to those things out there, limb by limb.’

‘This is important.’ Madden’s mouth set in a hard line. ‘There’s a girl.’

That got Connal’s attention. ‘Been dipping your wick in more than the ceremonial candles,
Thegn
? Bad. Boy
.
’ Connal tutted, his face splitting into a manic grin. 'Didn't think you had it in you, man.'

‘This is fucking important, Savage. There’s a child.'

'O-kay ...' The smile melted off Connal’s face. Hands braced on his thighs, he stood.

'She doesn't know I'm the father,' Madden said, looking cagey.

'Do
you
know you're the father?’ Connal asked. ‘Those girls in Form …’ He didn’t want to insult the guy, but it was common knowledge the
thralls
weren’t exactly choosy about their sexual partners.

Madden’s eyes narrowed. 'She's not a
thrall
, and yes, I've made it my business to know.'

'Why the death-bed confession?' Connal asked.

'Because I'd hoped, one day, to be free of my vows, to break my ties with MacTire and offer her the life I can’t give her as a
thegn
.’ The doctor’s dark eyes were pleading. ‘If I'm not there to look out for them, I need to know you will.'

Connal exhaled, weighing the bundle of fleshworms in his fist against their hopes of escape. 'You do know neither of us stands a snowball's chance of getting out alive?’

‘I don’t need a lesson in statistics to know you have the physical advantage in this situation, Savage.’

Connal gritted his teeth. ‘Okay. You saved my skin, Doc. I owe you, so I’m prepared to humour you on this. Who's the girl?'

'Liath Murphy. And the boy, my son, is Josh Murphy. He's four years old.'

'My neighbour, Liath?' Connal’s lids flared. 'Small fucking world.'

Madden's upper lip curled in a snarl.

‘Whoa there,’ Connal held up his palms, 'back off, Doc. I never laid a hand on Liath Murphy. I don't get my meat where I eat.'

Madden’s brows shot up into his hairline. 'Two words for you, Savage: DeMorgan's granddaughter.'

Connal frowned. 'Okay, so you've got me there, but that's different.'

'So is this.' The doctor was deadly serious.

'You're a dark horse, Doc, you know that?'

'No more than you, Connal Savage.’ Some of the tension eased from the doctor’s rigid stance. ‘We all have our secrets. It’s no coincidence she’s your neighbour. I used my contacts to set her up next door to the DeMorgan house.’

Connal gave him a puzzled look.

‘Do you know what they do to male
thegn
children? Nobody wants the dirty truth of the half-breeds exposed. I figured living that close to DeMorgan's wards, and to you, they’d be safer. If the wolves ever found out what Josh was, they might turn a blind eye, rather than take the risk of getting so close.’

'Well shit.' Connal stared at the doctor. ‘Liath doesn’t know about you, does she?’

‘No,’ Madden hesitated, ‘I manipulated her memories.’

Connal whistled low. ‘The Old Masters would be turning in their graves.’

‘Manipulating human minds is permitted when the race is threatened with exposure.’

‘I’d say that was a loose interpretation of the laws,
Thegn
.’ Connal laughed.

‘I did what I had to do to keep them safe. I know you understand that.’

Yes, Connal understood exactly how far a man would go to save what he loved, and a creeping respect for the doctor was working it’s way under his skin. ‘You have my word. If I get out of this, I’ll watch out for her, and the kid.’

‘Thank you.’

Connal nodded. ‘Does anyone else know?’

Madden’s lip curled. ‘Doyle. The bartender at Form.’

Connal’s jaw went slack. ‘I thought he targeted her kid because she and I were friends,' he said, 'but maybe Doyle was smarter than that.’

‘What the hell do you mean, he targeted her?’ The colour had drained from the doctor’s face.

‘You didn’t know?’ Connal frowned. ‘Doyle took Josh hostage to force me to hand over Ash.’

‘Son of a Bitch! I’ll rip his fucking throat out!’ The veins on Madden’s temples were pulsing. ‘They’re not safe. I need to get back there, Savage. He’s a psychopath.’

‘I took his
thegn
oath, not to lay a finger on either of them.’ Connal didn’t say it, but given Madden’s confession, he was starting to wonder if that oath was worth the blood it was drawn in.

‘Just get us down there, Savage,’ Madden gestured to the settlement in the valley, ‘I’ll take care of that worm Doyle. Personally.’

Connal nodded, and both men stepped forward to the lip of the cave. ‘Time to outrun the devil,
Thegn
. On my mark, we hit the ground running.’

Madden went bobble-headed, swallowing hard. Connal stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. In unison, twenty-odd serrated beaks turned towards the noise, their beady eyes focussed on the bundle Connal was swinging. The weight of the flesh worms droned through the air as he pitched them high and far. ‘Chow time, fuckers,’ he shouted.

The raveners took the bait. Flocking to the air on vast wings, they swooped down in the direction of the projectile.

‘Now!’ Connal hissed, dragging the hesitant doctor from the mouth of the cave by his upper arm. They scrambled down the cliff-face in a flurry of displaced stones, feet and hands grappling for purchase down the steep slope, half-sliding, half-running, an avalanche of bodies and dirt. Connal took in the landscape and his heart sank. A wide plain stretched out before them, offering no cover whatsoever. They’d badly underestimated the distance they needed to run, but they were past the point of no return.

Frantic, they tore across the expanse, feet churning the black sand. They’d made it almost halfway when the first shrieks tore through the sky.

‘Fuck, they’re coming,’ Madden panted.

‘Don’t look back, Doc.’ Thighs pumping, Connal’s breath burned his lungs as his feet ate up the sand. Beside him, the doctor’s face was drawn. He seemed to be running on pure adrenaline.

An ominous wind beat at their backs and their shadows lengthened as the first of the raveners swooped down for the kill. Hooking a foot behind the doctor’s knee, Connal sent Madden face forward into the dirt. The doctor took the fall hard, crying out.

Ignoring the protest, Connal used the torque to wheel himself about, putting himself between the doctor and the screeching harpy. Its foul breath billowed a toxic cloud in his face. Side stepping the bird’s first lunge, he threw himself into the second incoming attack and grasped the ends of the creature’s beak. He prised it’s mouth wide open, gagging at the gore of half-chewed flesh worms dripping from its serrated teeth. The animal struggled, its talons raking at the exposed flesh of Connal’s stomach. It clamped down with renewed determination and Connal’s arm muscles trembled with the effort of restraining the thing. He couldn’t hold out, and he couldn’t get the momentum behind his grip to break the creature’s neck.

A hoarse cry rang out and the ravener reared back, its claws scraping the sand. Connal could hardly believe his eyes. Madden had mounted the giant bird and was riding its back, his forearms clamped around its neck in a strangling hold. The whites of his eyes showed as he bared his teeth on a snarl and, together, the two men wrenched the creature’s neck anticlockwise, pushing against the resistance of a spinal cord that snapped and recoiled with a horribly satisfying crunch of bone. The ravener’s head went loose and it crumpled to the ground in a flurry of black feathers.

Both men slumped.

‘You tripped me, you son of a bitch,’ Madden wheezed.

‘I saved your Goddamn life.’

‘The way I see it, I’m the one who saved yours, Savage.’ The doctor cracked a grin. ‘I can’t believe we took that thing down.’

Connal laughed huskily. ‘A story to tell your grandkids, Doc, if we ever get out of here. There’s twenty-plus more where that thing came from.’ On cue, the baleful cries of the raveners intensified. Rolling onto their backs, the two men looked to the skies, braced for certain death. What they saw took their breath. The mutant birds spread their wings and pitched across the sky. As one great flock, they changed trajectory towards the glowing crater in the distance.

‘What the hell happened?’ Madden propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Think we scared them off?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Connal deadpanned, ‘absolutely.’

Scrabbling to their feet, Madden dusted down while Connal picked chunks of gravel from the wounds slashed across his abdomen. ‘We need to move, fast,’ Connal said, ‘before they get bored of whatever shiny new thing caught their attention. Can you run?’

‘Hell yes,’ Madden nodded, ‘I’ll run from here.’

They took off again, racing across the sand.

‘Tell me something,’ Madden asked breathlessly. ‘Where was your wolf back there, Savage? Why didn’t you shift?’

Connal glanced over at him. ‘Can you keep a secret, Doc?’

Madden fell out of step momentarily and stared at him.

‘Seems when MacTire took that collar from me, he took more than just my ability to breathe topside,’ Connal confessed, ‘I can’t shift.’