Page 39 of Faithless
Tezca circled around Santos protectively while the guy got to hacking at a training dummy with a couple of batons. Santos had whittled down the wooden batons until they were the same weight and balance as his machetes.
My training, however, couldn’t be practiced on an inanimate object.
I stuck to the shadows, slowly circling the perimeter of the sand pit while the other gladiators stretched and warmed up. The veteran fighters gave me dirty looks as I passed. They knew what to expect from me. It was a shame they didn’t seem to realize my training was beneficial for them as well as myself. Only the most honed senses, the sharpest ears and reflexes, stood a chance against my attacks. And during training time, they were lucky I wasn’t actively trying to kill anyone.
The newest fighters, on the other hand, would be in for a hell of a surprise.
I spotted the fresh meat from a mile away. The newest gladiators all hung out together, which was their first mistake. Alliances and friend groups only got people killed here, especially if they weren’t smart enough to keep it discreet like Santos and me. The two nearest pitmasters were already leaning their heads together, talking quietly between themselves while nodding at the group with sinister smiles.
The group of four were also easy to spot because of their pasty-as-fuck skin. In time, if they survived, they’d be darkened by the brutal sun like the rest of us. After spending the first few weeks as red as lobsters, of course. This lot must have done years in solitary confinement somewhere. A couple of them squinted and shielded their eyes like they’d never been outside before.
In fewer words, they were a perfect warm-up for the day.
I continued my walk, studying them in my peripheral vision while looking straight ahead. One of the veteran gladiators, the Animal, glared at me as I approached him.
“Don’t fuck with me today, Ghost,” he snarled at me through blackened teeth. “I’m not in the fuckin’ mood.”
“You’re safe from me today, spider monkey.” Just for fun, I liked to call him a different animal every time we interacted. He flew off the handle every time like clockwork,exceptfor when I called him an axolotl. He only flipped me off and yelled slurs at me for a whole minute, so I think he liked that one.
Spider monkey however, did not have the same effect.
He picked up one of his clubs with a heavy grunt, bringing it back over his massive shoulder to wind up for a swing. “I fucking told you, I’m not in the fucking—”
I was behind him before he finished drawing back his arm. In the next moment, I held his wrist with one hand and had the tip of my dagger pressed into his spine with the other. The Animal froze, his body in a precarious balance. If he resisted my hold and tried to swing his arm forward, his spinal column would run straight into my blade.
I had the knife positioned between two vertebrae, and he’d seen how cleanly I severed spines during my fights. I had left people paralyzed from the waist down dozens of times. And they never figured out why, because they never saw me coming.
And if the Animal didn’t resist and continued following gravity, he’d fall backwards onto my knife anyway.
“Lucky for you, titmouse,” I said, “I’m not in the mood to deal with you today either.”
I heard his teeth grind in anger and his furious huff of breath. But we both knew he couldn’t risk moving until I released him.
Which I did, because two pitmasters were storming our way.
“What the fuck is going on?” one of them demanded, while the other rested his hand on his taser gun at his belt.
“Nothing, sirs.” I stepped away from the Animal and lowered my gaze to the ground. “Just tussling a bit to warm up for training.”
“Yeah,” the Animal agreed, his gaze lowering like mine. “No trouble here, sirs.”
The pitmasters turned around and were gone in the next moment. Scuffles were normal between gladiators during training. They just wanted to make sure no one killed each other prematurely and messed up the fight schedules. Spectators usually had a lot of money riding on those fights.
As soon as the pitmasters were out of earshot, the Animal whirled to face me. “Fuck with me again and I’ll skull-fuck you right back ‘til I puncture one of your lungs and you’re drowning in my cum. Then I’ll take your scrawny ass while you suffocate and keep going until your corpse is cold. Am I clear, Ghost?”
I kept my face expressionless as I turned to leave. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Later, alligator.”
“I know where you sleep,” he called after me.
It wasn’t until I was a good thirty feet away that I allowed myself some deep breaths. Well that was…unsettling. Rape threats were a dime a dozen here, but that was especially graphic. He must have been really pissed. It was a good thing I slept in the same room as a jaguar whose kill record nearly matched mine.
I lifted my head and continued on my walk, bypassing the group of new gladiators. I was no longer in the mood to teach any young ones some hard lessons. Santos was by a water station, taking a quick, rationed drink under the watchful eye of more pitmasters as I continued past him.
“You alright?” he muttered under his breath, not looking at me.
“Yeah,” I answered, not breaking my stride.
I would be fine, once I walked off the mental image the Animal had put in my head. That was another thing about dealing with gladiators. You could never, ever let their threats rattle you.
