Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1) (22 page)

I cock my head, waiting for a more honest answer. She doesn’t give me one.

“Whatever this is, is it a good thing?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“It’s the perfect thing.”

“Okay. Write it down somewhere safe. Hide it. Then wash it off the wall.”

I open the door to leave but she stops me with a warm hand on my arm.

“Are you going to hurt him?”

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“I never promise anything. Especially not to women.”

She glares at me. “If you lay a hand on him, I’ll—“

“Not over this,” I vow. “You make sure this doesn’t happen again and I won’t lay a hand on him over this. That’s the best I can give you.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Smart girl.”

“And you won’t tell anyone else?” she asks, frowning doubtfully.

“Nothing to tell.”

“That’s a pretty huge lie.”

“I’ve told bigger.”

“But this one could get Kevin killed if Marlow finds out.”

I smile, stepping out of her reach. “Then you’re lucky I’m a very, very good liar.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Vin

“She wants to go in the Arena.” Marlow eyes me carefully, gauging my reaction. I give him none. “Where would she have gotten the idea to do that?”

“Me,” I answer honestly.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a good idea. It’s a guaranteed money maker.”

“Only if she doesn’t die.”

“Even if she does die you’d make a killing for one night and it’d bring in a crowd. The scratch you’d make off the Stables and booze alone would make it worth it. Build it up. Make a big deal of it. An unknown fighter
and
a female? People will go crazy. They’re starving for something new.”

“He’s got a point, boss,” Andy agrees.

I don’t look at him. I don’t know that I want his support, even now as I stand here trying to help Seven. There’s something about the guy. He’s so damn… nice. It’s not normal.

“You’re right,” Marlow says, but I’m not sure which of us he’s talking to. “I assume she’s looking for the standard cut?”

I spread my hands in front of me. “Only seems fair.”

“Hector, what will that do to her debt?”

“Assuming we have an average night,” Hector replies thoughtfully, “she’d be damn close to wiping it out.”

“What if we had a great night?” I push him.

“She’d be free and clear. Easy.”

“You’ve got my vote,” Bennett says heartily.

Marlow rolls his head to look behind him where the other man stands. “It’s not a democracy.”

“Right, but you know what I’m saying. I’m all for it. Get her out of my hair. Please.”

“She’s a high earner.”

“But she’s a pain in the ass and she can’t last forever. She’s going to get worn out. She’s already starting to show some wear and tear.”

“The Pike boys?”

“Yeah. They’re rough on a body.”

I’m itching to tell him he shouldn’t let that gang anywhere near his girls, but I bite my tongue. It’s not the time and it’s definitely not my place.

“You think you can build real hype around her in the ring?” Marlow asks me.

I nod. “No question.”

“Good. Set it up. And make sure she can fight. If it’s over too soon the whole thing is a bust.”

“Already planned on training her.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Even before I agreed to let her do it?”

“You’re smart, Marlow,” I tell him with a grin, backing toward the door. “I knew you’d recognize an opportunity when you saw it.”

He nods silently as he watches me go.

He knows I’m full of shit.

***

“Again,” I tell Seven, heading for the opposite end of the cage.

“Vin.”

I stop, hands on my hips and head hanging down in frustration. “What?”

She hesitates, then mumbles, “Nothing. Let’s go again.”

She’s tired, that’s what she wanted to say, but her pride won’t let her. It’s been a week and she’s still recovering from her last run in with the Pikes. As far as I know she hasn’t taken a job with them since then and she better stick to that routine because healthy is the only way she’s going to make it in the Arena next week. As it is she might not survive it either way.

Seven is too small – that’s what it boils down to. Her body is fragile. She has a lioness heart in a Hello Kitty body. Too soft, too warm, and surprisingly slow. She told me she’s great with a knife and can swing a bat or a length of pipe like a champ, but that doesn’t matter.

I crunched the numbers with Hector and we figured out that Seven has to do a tier two fight in order to get clear in one shot. No weapons. I don’t know that she’s ready for that but she won’t even consider doing a third tier fight. She thinks, and I agree, that Marlow will let her have one shot at this. It’s all or nothing and she’d rather be dead in the ring than laying down for the Stables.

“Are you ready?” I ask her, getting ready to attack.

She crouches down and nods tightly. “Yeah. Ready.”

“Go!”

I move toward her. Not too fast because I’m supposed to be a Z, but I stay agile. I don’t shamble because I’m doing the work of two here. There will be two zombies in here with her and I need to simulate that as much as I can.

She watches me, never backing up because that’s the first instinct I forced out of her. It’s not the wild. You don’t have room to give up. You have to hold your ground and never let them put your back to the cage.

When I get close she darts to the right and loops around behind me. I turn, reaching out for her, but she’s out of my grasp. Now she’s behind me and she has the chance to strike, but when she does it’s pathetic.

She leaps onto my back and grabs at my face, putting my chin in one hand and my forehead in the other. I stand still, waiting as she tries to move my head. She can’t. Not even a little. The muscles in my neck are stronger than her tiny little arms.

I shrug her off easily and she collapses on her ass on the ground behind me. “Again,” I drone.

She kicks the back of my knee, buckling it under me. I barely regain my balance before hitting the ground.

“What the fuck was that for?” I ask, rounding on her.

She glares up at me. “I’m frustrated, okay?! I can’t do it! I’m not strong enough to fight without a weapon.”

“Then do a tier three.”

“No.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, throwing my face up to the ceiling. “You are so damn stubborn!”

“I want out!”

“Yeah, and I want to get you out, but you have to work with me. You can’t do a tier two. You may as well sign up for the Blind.”

“I’m not that bad.”

I laugh. “You can’t win against me and I’m not even trying to bite you yet. There will be
two
on fight night, do you realize that? While you’re playing piggy back with the first one, the second will eat your ass off.”

She grunts as she goes to stand. I offer her my hand but she ignores it, getting up on her own.

“Let’s go again,” she grumbles, taking position.

I shake my head in annoyance, but I go back to my half of the cage. “Ready?”

“Go.”

I come at her faster than before. I’m done playing around. I want her to understand what it will feel like next week. How small the cage will feel. How the noise of the crowd will make it feel even smaller. Her eyes widen as I approach her and she takes a step back, then three. Instead of correcting her I just keep coming. I push her back against the cage until she jostles it with her body and it roars with that strange hum it makes when it’s hungry. She panics, glancing back at the fencing like she can’t believe she’s against it, then back at me. I reach out with my arms, open my mouth, and I make no secret of the fact that I’m going to try to sink my teeth into her skin because she needs to know that this is real. What she’s going to do in that ring is for keeps and I’m done sugar coating her training.

But just when I’m about to grab her she shocks us both. She grabs onto the fencing, goes hand over hand up it, and quickly climbs the dome of the cage. She goes just high enough to swing back and come at me with her feet. They connect with my chest, knocking me back and down, then she’s climbing higher. I look up in amazement from where I’ve landed on my back and I watch as she dangles above me. Then she yanks herself up hard, releases her hands, and drops down right at my face.

I don’t have time to roll out of the way. All I can do is throw up my forearms over my face to protect myself. I hear it when she lands solidly with her feet on either side of my shoulders. I glare up at her through the mesh of my hands and see that she’s straddling me. She’s standing over me, her face flushed and proud.

I reach up, grab the backs of her knees, and knock them out from under her the way she did to me. She yelps as she falls backward and I pull up on her legs to sweep them solidly out from under her. She lands on her back on my legs and I quickly slip out from under her and pin her down on the ground with my body.

“I did it,” she says quickly, breathlessly. “You can be mad all you want, I still did it.”

“You could have broken my neck,” I spit out angrily.

She smiles. “I know. And if you were a Risen I would have. I would have had you.” Her eyes search mine, shining and excited. She reaches up with tired, shaking arms and she grips my shoulders roughly. “I can do it, Vin. I can win. I can get out of here.”

There’s no accounting for what I do next. For the raw feeling her words give me.

I kiss her. I do it fast and hard, not giving her time to stop me. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t try to. The second my lips hit hers, her fingers dig into my shoulders and they’re pulling me closer. She brings my body down hard on hers and the little whimper of pain she gives makes me sick inside. I try to rise, to let up off her, but she holds me down.

After that I’m careful with her. Gentle. The feeling is at odds with the energy building up inside me, with the excitement that’s rising and rising. That’s been pent up since the moment I met her. I don’t kiss women like this. I don’t hold them, I’m not careful with them. It’s not my way. I’m not an animal, I’m no Pike, but I’m in it for me. I’m in it for the sound of a woman’s sweet suffering – moans, gasps, screams of a torture they don’t ever want me to stop. It’s that shit that gets me high. That sends my addiction into full swing and boils my blood until I’m blind. I’m all feelings and sounds that I drink in until I’m wasted.

But the way I’m touching Seven – I don’t know how to describe it. I can’t understand the way she feels. The thrill I get from just her kiss. I’m slow and tender, my fingers and lips on her skin so softly it feels like a whisper. Like a dialogue between us that I don’t understand. I’m contained and wound tight, tense from head to toe as I caress her body and struggle not to hurt her.

Every time she touches me I shiver. She releases some small part of that energy inside me and I convulse like I’m tweaking. I can’t get enough of it. I want that next touch so bad I actually reach for it. I take hold of my addiction and I pull it close to me, under me, letting the warmth seep into my veins as her breathing builds and blows hot across my heart. As the sound of her, the smell of her, the sweet fucking taste of her drives me crazy.

I shove my fingers into her hair, gripping hard and pulling her face back so I can look down into her eyes. She stares up at me, mouth open and panting, lips wet from my kiss, and I nearly say ‘screw it’ and dive right in. But I want to know. I have to know.

“What’s your name?” I ask her gruffly.

She blinks, her eyes so damn dark and molten. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

I tug at her hair insistently as I grind my body against hers in just the right spot. “Yes,” I growl.

Her eyes flutter, threatening to close. To give in. “Why?”

“Because I want it. I want that part of you you’re hiding.” I lower my mouth to her neck, her pulse, and I lick the tender flesh around it. “I want your wild.”

She takes two shallow breathes before turning her head and kissing me fiercely. I loosen my hold on her hair, gently brushing the strands from her face. It falls through my fingers, black and silken and strangely familiar, reminding me of another girl, another me. Another world.

“Madeline,” she whispers, her voice rough and raspy and one hundred percent her. “My name is Madeline.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Trent

“I want to fight inside the Arena,” I tell Kevin.

Ryan sits up straight and eager, forgetting his breakfast cooling in front of him. “Me too.”

“No.”

He scowls at me. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I do,” Kevin tells him seriously, “and I’ve told you before. No.”

“Ah, come on. I’m a good fighter.”

“You’re a hunter.”

“I’m a terrible hunter,” he protests. “I can’t catch shit without Trent or Craig.”

“What’d I say about swearing?”

“I’m fourteen! I’m not a little kid anymore. I can swear, fight, and go the Market on my own.”

I smile knowingly. “Ah, I see.”

“See what?” Kevin asks.

“He wants to fight to earn money to go to the Market.
Alone
.”

Kevin shakes his head emphatically. “Nope. Too soon. For all of it.”

“You were fourteen,” I remind him.

“Shut up, man. You’re not helping.”

“He’s helping me,” Ryan protests.

“You wanna go get laid? Fine. Do it. Go ahead, but you’re not doing it or anything else at the Hive.”

“I’d rather get inside the Arena.”

“That’s just because you haven’t been inside a woman yet,” I inform him. “It will change your priorities.”

“Why do
you
want to fight?” Kevin asks me pointedly, his face and tone annoyed.

I want to fight to earn extra money for the three of us. To contribute to the savings Kevin has in place for Ryan in case something happens to him. I want to earn more so Kevin can fight less. I want to make sure I never again see the shadow in the Arena that nearly cost us everything.

“Same as Ryan,” I lie easily. “I want to go to the Market. Buy sex. Multiple women at the same time. Maybe some Honey while I’m at it.”

“He’s lying,” Ryan assures his brother.

Kevin nods slowly, watching me. “I know he is, but why is he lying? What’s he hiding?”

“Will you help me get in the Arena?” I ask him

“That depends. Are you going to tell me the real reason you want to fight?”

“I could be good at it.”

“That’s why you want to do it?”

I shrug. “I like being good at things.”

“You’re good at everything,” Ryan accuses.

“Not everything.”

“Name one thing.”

“Making friends.”

Ryan laughs, picking up his forgotten fork. “Oh yeah. You’re terrible at that.”

“I’ll talk to Vin,” Kevin promises, his voice quiet and serious. “I’ll see if I can get you into the fight he has coming up. The one with the girl anchoring.”

I nod in appreciation. “Thanks, brother.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns with a sly smile.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to find out what the other side of the whip feels like.”

Ryan’s eyes smile with amusement. “Are you going to train him?”

“Don’t be so happy about it, buddy,” he tells him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “I’m going to train both of you.”

***

I lean over, my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. I’ve run five miles today. Five miles through the wild looking for Risen to fight. I’ve found quite a few and laid down every one of them, but Kevin berates me every time because apparently I’m doing it all wrong.

“Dude, you’re not even trying!” he shouts at me, exasperated.

“I’m supposed to kill them. I killed them. How am I not trying?”

“You’re too fast,” Ryan explains. “You don’t give anyone a chance to enjoy any of it.”

I chuckle, standing up straight and stretching my arms over my head. “I’m hearing that a lot lately.”

Kevin sits back on his bicycle. “People want to see the fight. They want the thrill and the excitement. Most fights last on average six minutes. If you kill the zombie in the first minute they’re in the cage it’s no fun for anyone watching. If all of the fights went that fast the Arena wouldn’t exist. People either want to think that you’re going to die or they want you to take your time and give them a show.”

“You want me to make a production of killing a zombie?”

“Yes!” both brothers shout together.

I nod, bouncing on my toes to ready myself for the run. “Alright. I’ll try again.”

They ride on their bikes behind me as I jog through the streets in search of Risen. From the Crow’s Nest lately I’ve noticed more in the east where the city is essentially abandoned, but I don’t take them that direction. The girl lives there. The kid about Ryan’s age. The red lightning that flashes in the night and puts a smile on my face.

I lead them north, carefully avoiding the Elevens. We find a small pocket of Risen in that area. Just three cruising the street together. They scent us immediately and I spin my knife in my hand. It’s a hunting knife. One I’ve sharpened to within an inch of its life. One I use to cut bone when I’m cleaning a kill.

I engage the first one, a guy a little shorter than I am and a whole lot heavier. I get behind him and quickly kick him in the back. The force sends him stumbling down the street until he lands on his face. Before he can roll over I grab hold of his tattered jacket and drag his body farther down the street away from the others. Because I need time. I’m supposed to take my time.

To make sure he can’t get ahold of me, I step on his arm, pin his wrist to the pavement, and bring my blade down on it sharply. It cuts clean through, severing his hand. I walk around him and do the same to the other side. His black blood leaks out on the street as I kick him over onto his back. He snaps at me, growling angrily, and I casually head over to Ryan to steal his pipe from him. I bring it down in one quick swing against the Risen’s face, knocking out every tooth he ever had and shoving them down his throat where he gurgles and chokes on them.

I use the pipe to bust out his knees next, making it impossible for him to follow me. Then I head for the other two. Another man and a woman. I take the pipe to the face of one, the back of the knees of the other, dropping them both to the ground. I’m quick with them, bashing their skulls in against the asphalt until they’re dead and gone.

I’d say at this point that I’ve been at it for two minutes at the most. Not long enough, not according to Ryan and Kevin, so I go back to my main man. I pull out my knife and slowly carve his eyes out, tossing them aside on the road. Then I take his ears. His nose. I dissect his face a piece at a time until I imagine I’ve been working for four minutes total, and I decide to call it. I’ve run out of things to take off his body. Well, things I’m willing to carve off his body.

I pick up the pipe again and bring it down into the mangled mess of his face three times until he stops moving. He’s dead for good. He’s gone.

Six minutes.

“How’d I do?” I ask breathlessly.

Kevin and Ryan stare at me in silent horror.

“What?” I demand.

Kevin blinks. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Dude,” Ryan whispers.

“What?” I ask again. “You said to take my time. To make the kill last longer.”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a nightmare,” Kevin says as though it were obvious.

“I’m not supposed to kill them quickly, but now I take too long? You said six minutes.”

“We didn’t say six minutes of
that
!”

“Of what, then?!”

“You’re supposed to give them a show. Run around and knock ‘em to the ground. Let them get up again. Pump the crowd up. Land some hits, dodge and weave. Be dynamic, not psychotic.”

“There’s another one!” Ryan shouts, jumping off his bike and letting it fall to the ground. “I’ll show you. Watch.”

He takes his pipe from me and runs toward the Risen. She sees him immediately. The meet in the middle of the street where Ryan runs up close to her, gets her to reach for him, and quickly spins out of her grasp until he’s behind her. She turns, confused, still reaching out for him but he’s nowhere to be found. He changes direction, running around her and passing under her arms before she can get ahold of him. As she tries to get her bearings he dances on his toes, bobbing back and forth. He swings his pipe in his hand, swirling it in a mesmerizing pattern.

The Risen finds him. She lunges forward, groaning and growling, but Ryan lands the pipe in her midsection, forcing her body to crumple in half. He doesn’t knock her down, though. He continues to dance around her, putting himself just within range before expertly slipping away in a dangerous dance that both worries and amazes me.

Finally he lands a blow to her legs that drops her to her knees. He pushes her down to the ground, swings wide and theatrical, and brings the pipe soundly against her temple. She topples over, dead for good.

Ryan is breathing heavily. He’s smiling from ear to ear, and he spins his pipe again as he heads back toward us.

“That’s six minutes,” he says happily.

I turn to Kevin, surprised to find him smiling as well.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks his little brother.

“From watching you.”

“You’ve got skills.”

“Really? So you’ll let me in the cage?”

Kevin’s smile disappears. “Not a chance.”

Ryan scowls at him. “You suck.”

“I know.” Kevin turns to me. “So you think you can do it like that?”

“No.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think you can either. It’s not your thing.”

“I’d like to try it in the cage my way,” I insist.

“Your way as in the fast way or your way as in Jack the Ripper style?”

“Fast.”

“Thank God,” he breathes in relief. “Okay, yeah, I’ll talk to Vin. See what he says.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. And whether people like your style or not, one good thing will come out of them seeing you fight in the Arena.” He smiles devilishly. “No one will ever be stupid enough to step to you out in the wild.”