Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Finally, the interval was over. A lone male waltzed into the performance space. She’d never met him before, but there was something familiar about him.
“Does anyone know who that is?” she asked.
“His name is Bowen, he’s one of Azazel’s aides,” replied Delilah. “He’s a berserker.”
And then it clicked. “He’s got to be related to Grouch.” Wynter would bet good money on it. “The resemblance is there.”
Delilah’s brow furrowed. “Grouch as in the smithy who pissed you off earlier?”
“Yeah, that Grouch.”
“I did hear that he followed some of his relatives to Devil’s Cradle. They didn’t all seek refuge here at the same time.”
“That would explain why he’s in Azazel’s service while Grouch and Annette are in Cain’s.” Wynter stilled as a rumble of power split through the air.
In the performance space, a portion of the floor shimmered and rippled. The sand dispersed, and a grating sound rang through the arena as a stone platform rose to the surface. Bordered by rope, it resembled a boxing ring.
Using a microphone, Bowen addressed the spectators as he said, “Now for our next event … This is the battle square. As you can no doubt see, there is magick embedded in the stone. It is spelled so that any injuries people receive while within the square will immediately heal. But the wounds will not feel healed to whoever receives them. More, the injuries will not look healed. In fact, they will seem so real and will hurt the ‘injured’ so much that it will play tricks on their mind. They will believe they are wounded, bleeding, weakening—maybe even dying.”
Well, how delightful was that.
“The ropes are also spelled,” he went on. “They contain any magick, energy, or power that’s released within the square.” He flicked his hand, and then a rack of swords came into view. They were all pretty basic—long, straight blades attached to a hilt. “So … do we have any volunteers?”
It was almost amusing how quickly people snapped up the opportunity to engage in a fight. No one particularly cared who their opponent was—they just wanted the release that came with violence.
The brawls probably shouldn’t have been so entertaining, but they were. Especially whenever one of the fighters was someone who’d laughed when she asked for a job—then Wynter became really invested in the duels.
Pretty much everyone was disappointed when the stone platform returned to the sand. But then the weirdest thing happened. Power again rose in the air, and then a lengthy ditch appeared, stretching from one end of the performance space to the other. It was surrounded by ropes, just like the battle square.
“This here is the gauntlet,” Bowen announced. “Like the square, it is spelled so that injuries immediately heal but don’t seem healed. This time, we’re not looking for volunteers. The participating groups will be chosen at random.”
He paused as another male strode toward him holding a glass bowl. “The names of every pack, lair, nest, coven, etc. is inside this bowl. For whichever groups are chosen, the objective is for them to battle their way through the gauntlet. This will not be easy, since soldiers will soon fill the ditch. They will not be real soldiers, but they will look real, and they will move to kill.
“Any participants who ‘die’ will be spat out of the gauntlet while the remainder of their group continues to fight. Participants may shift shape, use weapons, fight with magick, use any preternatural ability, or even adopt a combination of all. Whichever group finishes the gauntlet in the fastest time will receive a cash prize.”
Bowen dipped his hand into the bowl and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He then read out the name of a mage conclave. A demon lair was called out next. Then a fey court, and last but not least … “The Bloodrose Coven.”
Motherfucker.
Wynter exchanged solemn glances with her crew. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
Dutifully, they slid out of their row and began to make their way to the performance space.
Delilah sidled up to her. “Seems awful convenient that our coven was chosen when Bowen’s related to a person who said you’d regret not taking the job they offered you.”
Behind them, Xavier made a sound of agreement. “I’m thinking this is fixed.”
“Cain threatened they’d pay if they fucked with me,” said Wynter.
“Yeah, but berserkers are spiteful bastards,” Delilah reminded her. “They don’t know how to back down. And this isn’t something that can be pinned on them, is it? Seems totally random. Seems.”
Finally, they all reached the performance space. At this point, several aides had joined Bowen. It was Maxim who indicated where Wynter and her crew would stand.
“This is your fault,” she said to Delilah.
Frowning, Delilah put her hand to her chest. “How is it mine?”
“They couldn’t have done this if you hadn’t declared us a coven.” Wynter felt Cain’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. She was all business right then. This was about her and the people under her protection, no one else.