“And we have come to the second round of our new annual games,” Augustine said, his presence presented in the only transparent window. “This one is simple, the first five to reach the top wins, and the others will fall to the traps below.” At his words the ground rumbled, the sand separating as the platform began to rise up in a spiral. The arena opened up the basement, making the entire five-floor course over forty meters tall.
“What the fuck is this?” Scarface whispered to himself, his foot slipping off his dedicated ‘X.’
A loud beep, followed by a sharp whoosh of air.
Scarface grunted, a sharp wooden stake impaled through his thigh.
“Someone’s eager,” Augustine chuckled. “The obstacle course is covered in booby traps, just like the one Number Eight set off. Each floor has been magically enhanced, which means there will be no advantages. Everyone is equal, and only the most ambitious will survive.”
All the fighters stilled, making sure they were all within their spaces while Scarface touched the edge of the stake still protruding from his leg.
“Leave it or you’ll bleed out well before you reach the top,” Kace said without taking his eyes off the obstacle course. He was trying to memorise every jump and trap, but even as he watched the course was shifting, always changing.
For fuck’s sake.
“No shit,” Scar-face grunted, his skin slick with a slight sheen.
Two beeps blurted above them all, distinctive and spaced a few seconds apart. Kace braced, ready to jump to the first floor.
“Ten fighters, and only five will walk out alive,” Augustine finished. “Let round two of the games begin.”
* * *
EVA
Eva remained quiet as Dutch lead her further into the tunnels, descending the levels rather than ascending to the office. Augustine hadn’t made it back to the bedroom the night before, but she hadn’t allowed herself to relax, even for a moment. Not when she was so unsettled, the inevitable its own torture, worse than any of the physical beatings she had endured so far.
Dutch had explained Augustine preferred the fear, of her waiting, not knowing when he would complete his promise. It was only now that dread coated her tongue like a vile fur that she understood what he had meant. Anxiety chipped away, taking a piece of her each passing hour she waited, not knowing until there would be nothing left for him to take.
“Your master has set up a little surprise for you,” Dutch said, turning his head so she caught his grin. “You should enjoy it, and if not… well. I don’t care.” He pushed open a door, an ouroboros carved into the heavy metal.
Inside was a highbacked metal chair, thick straps open on both the arms and legs. The wall beside it displayed bright silver instruments, each hung neatly and in perfect symmetry. Drills, saws, knives and some things that looked closer to horror movie props than equipment, Dutch reaching over to click a circular blade that opened up to reveal several more blades inside, each spinning at a different speed.
“No!” Eva recoiled before Dutch pulled her inside.
“You’re going to have a little fun,” he said as weak growls filled the tunnel. He pinned her with a stare, Eva backing herself into the corner as heels tapped, click, click, click that was white noise to the increasing panicked cries.
Eva’s head jerked up just in time to see a flash of dark hair holding a long metal pole, Hunter sluggishly fighting the attachment around his throat. Hana shoved him into the chair, her fingertips glowing as he stiffened beneath her touch. She made quick work of the straps, and only when she stepped back, releasing the pole did he sag in the bonds, jaw resting against his chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Hunter’s heartbeat was slow and lethargic compared to Hana’s increased, excited rhythm.
Dutch pressed himself closer, breath cold against her ear. “You hold your humanity too closely. You can never truly embrace your new life when you’re still clinging to mercy.”
Eva jolted forward, her reflexes naturally twisting herself around Dutch before he could grab her. She pressed herself to the other wall, a stack of metal drawers displaying a row of sharp, pointy things separating them.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Hana added with a laugh. “Everything is metal, which is ineffective against my mate.”
“But not against you.” Eva mumbled without thought. She saw the palm before it made contact, able to grab Hana’s wrist with little effort. Hana gasped, and Eva realised she had been able to blur her movements.
A sharp pain along her arm, but rather than release her grip she squeezed tighter, feeling the bones beneath Hana’s skin groan.
“You little bitch!” Hana screeched, the lines of her tattoos burning, the pain increasing with every passing second.
Dutch cocked his head. “Only wood can truly damage one of our Breed, it creates a reaction to our blood similar to how shifters react to silver and Fae to iron. We believe it’s because wood is able to absorb natural magic from the earth. I’m sure you remember the pain of the stake from last time? That’s the magic that the wood absorbed when alive attacking the virus within your cells. It’s excruciating.”
Dutch grinned, and Hana chuckled.
“No steel, glass or compound can harm us for long. But wood, wood takes us a while to heal. There’s a reason we’re known as almost immortals.”
