“Yes,” he replied. “Where did the artist who gave you your tattoos learn those markings?”
“From me,” I replied and Gunnach’s eyes met mine.
“I apologize for getting your name wrong earlier, Arric. I was told you’d registered under the name Ben Johnson. Did I get your surname wrong as well?”
“It’s Mann,” I replied, once again unable to lie.
Jesus, fucking Christ, why the hell am I sharing this shit?
“A Highlander after all?” he mused.
“If you say so.”
“Yes,” he said, before continuing. “Every year the Gunnach family has had a champion to represent our clan at these games. For the past several years, Thor has been our champion. Now it appears he won’t be able to compete after today’s unsanctioned ‘press off,’” he said, motioning to the leg machine.
“Hey, that shit wasn’t my fault,” I protested. “I was just working out, minding my own business when that Thor guy—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Mr. Gunnach, politely interrupted. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you bear any responsibility for Mr. Olsen’s injury. Thor is his own man, and Thor is…well, Thor.”
“Then what do you want with me?” I asked, growing increasingly irritated by the conversation. Not that it was hard to work me into a lather these days. I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but lately all I wanted to do was fight, fuck, then fight some more. Over the past eight months I’d traveled from gym to gym, fight club to fight club, never going to the same one twice. Trying my best to lay low but still needing to feed the beast within me. The beast, whose appetite was growing.
Gunnach continued, “I thought since our veteran competitor must drop out of the games, perhaps our champion this year could be a first-timer. And now, to learn you have Scottish blood,” he said excitedly.
“Look. I don’t know dick about where my ancestors are from and since none of them have ever sent me a postcard or a check on my birthday, I don’t give a shit,” I said.
“You will show Kade Gunnach proper respect, young man, or I will have you removed from the grounds,” the second man said, stepping towards me.
“It’s okay, Alasdair,” Gunnach said, stepping between us. “I’m sorry. My manners. This is my head of security, Mr. Alasdair Ryan and this is my niece, Isla.”
I looked at the young blonde for the first time since the trio had walked into the tent and felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. I’d already worked up a good sweat from the workout, but instantly felt five degrees hotter the second I locked eyes with her.
“It’s, uh. Nice to…meet you.” I said, suddenly feeling panicked. “I’d shake your hand, but, uh. I’m a little sweaty.”
She smiled and I felt lightheaded. I guess Frank was right. I’d been pushing myself too hard.
“That’s alright. I’ve never been afraid to get my hands dirty,” she said and extended her porcelain hand to me. However, the instant before we touched, I recoiled. My body involuntarily pushing me backwards as if I’d gotten too close to the third rail in a subway tunnel.
As I continued my backward motion, I tripped over a piece of workout equipment, sending me crashing into the leg press machine that started all of this. My head flew back, slamming into the metal frame with a dull thud.
“Oh, my God,” Isla said, running to me. She bent down, one hand going to the back of my head and one directly on my chest.
Whatever kick I’d felt before was nothing compared to what happened when Isla Gunnach touched me. A current of pure energy flowed between her fingertips and my body buzzed like a hot plate between them. My skin burned and the tattoos on my chest and arms began to glow. Bright amber light spilled out of my tank top as my mind was flooded with a barrage of vivid, yet distorted images. My body stiffened as the intensity of the glowing light and the fire in my bones increased. If the visions or the pain had gone on much longer, I’m sure I would have gone mad, but as quickly as the episode started it was done.
Isla let go. Scrambling backwards across the floor as far away from me as she could get.
I struggled to my feet, disoriented and in a state of shock. “What the fuck did you do to me?” I yelled.
“Arric,” Gunnach said, softly.
“Fuck you! Who the hell are you people?”
“You should probably sit down,” Gunnach continued. “Frank, get him some water.”
“Stay the fuck away from me. All of you,” I yelled, backing away towards the door.
“Arric, wait,” Gunnach pleaded, but I backed out the door and started running for my car.
* * *
