Page 94 of A Kiss From Death
My eyes scan the racks of weapons available for us to choose from. My mind flicks back to the weird sword hidden beneath my floorboard, as if it’s calling my name. I shake it off and focus on what’s provided.
Standing back, I wait to see what Jade chooses so I can make my decision based on her weapon. She drags her fingers over each blade and spike until they settle on a spiked hammer small enough for her to swing around easily.
Sauntering up to the weapons, Jade’s shoulder bumps into mine as she passes me. Turning my head, I glare at her, and she just smiles back tauntingly.
“I hope you’re counting down the last minutes of your life,sweetie,” she spits viciously. “They won’t even be able to recognize you after I’m done with you, just like that little boy you got killed.Poof, turned to dust.” She pretends to blow smoke from her hand, and it takes everything in me to hold myself back, gritting myteeth and denying her the satisfaction. I know she’s just trying to mess with my head, and I won’t stoop to her level.
“Seems like everyone who struck an alliance with you is nowdead, how fitting. You kill everything you touch, but you won’t be killing me today.” She sticks her fingers out, counting them down. “Hudson, Aeron, and sweet Rayah are all dead because ofyou,” she seethes. “Fear not, though. Today is your end, and they will all cheer me on when I claim your last pathetic breath.”
She mockingly pats my shoulder, then saunters away with a skip in her step and a gleam in her eyes.
Someone needs a snack.
Quickly, I reach up, plucking a simple dagger off the rack, my gut telling me to grabsomething simpleand slip it into my boot. It’s lightweight and easy to wield. I can use it like a small sword or throw it if necessary. It’s short, so I’ll have to get close to Jade if I want to use it, which is a slight disadvantage, but it’s a much better choice than the awkward hammer she chose.
Lining back up, I notice Tank sporting no weapons as he slams his fists together, cracking his knuckles. His bleached hair shines bright under the sun, and his baby blues shine even brighter with malice. Next to him, Cartwell trembles subtly while white knuckling a long scythe almost as tall as him. I don’t blame him for grabbing a massive, long weapon when he’s up against a human who could be classified as a giant.
“Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready to see these competitors fight to the death?” the Empress bellows, throwing her arms out wide. The crowd’s screams are deafening, making me flinch.
“As a reminder, the game will not finish until one competitor is left standing. There is no tapping out or ties. Today will prove who amongst you are the strongest and most deserving to ascend to the final round of the Crucible!”
Swooping her arm, the Empress points towards a small circle drawn in the sand, directly in the center of the Bubble. “Tank,Cartwell, you’re up first. Please step into the ring with your chosen weapon.”
They both saunter forward, Tank looking excited and Cartwell looking sickly and petrified. Stepping into the tight circle, they turn to face each other.
“Up first, we have Tank from Sweat sector. His weapon of choice…” She trails off, not spotting any weapons in Tank’s grasp. Tank lifts his fists, banging them down on his shirtless, tanned chest like an animal, making the Empress blink in shock. “It appears Tank will be utilizing his fists for weapons. Points for confidence, I guess,” she mutters. “He will be facing off against Cartwell from Enlightened Sector. His weapon of choice, Scythe.”
Turning, she whispers something to the Vanquisher who entered with Hade. He nods and steps up next to her, his hand raised in front of him. Red magic bursts from his hands, igniting the circle around my competitors until it bursts into flames. The flames lick up out of the sand in the perfect shape of a circle around them, growing a few feet off the ground, high enough not to step over but not tall enough to block our view.
My heart races at the new added element. There’s no escaping this fight. You either fight, or you cower and burn. One way or another, only one person is stepping back out of that ring, and I’ll be damned if this is how fate finally captures my soul. I’m too stubborn to die at the hands of an unworthy enemy.
Clearing her throat, the Empress says her final remarks. “The only rule of this game is there are no rules. Nothing is off the table. Nothing is considered cheating or dirty fighting. Do what you must to win, and most importantly, give us a good show.” Smiling, she cups her hands, backing up to sit on her gaudy throne.
“Let the games begin,” she shouts, and all hell breaks loose.
Charging forward, Tank slams his body into Cartwell’s small frame, taking him by surprise. They both slam into the wall of fire, but neither falls through, a magical barrier holding them in.Flames lick up the back of Cartwell’s legs, making him scream out in agony as Tank holds his body against the fire with a wicked smile, thoroughly enjoying this.
Blowing his blue hair out of his chocolate eyes, Cartwell slams his scythe into Tank’s toes with a crunch. Tank sputters, loosening his grip on Cartwell, who takes the chance to duck under his arm and run to the other side of the small ring.
Screaming, Tank turns with fury burning in his eyes. I don’t see this going well for Cartwell, but maybe he can outsmart his way through this challenge.
Yelling a war cry, Cartwell charges forward, slashing his long scythe through the air with all his strength, aimed right at Tank’s giant chest. The bladewhooshes, but Tank side steps at the last second, slamming his elbow into the wooden snath, deflecting its course.
Tank lets out an angry grunt when the blade slices his upper arm instead, creating a sizable gash and drawing a steady stream of blood. Swiping his hand across the cut, he coats his hand in blood and rubs it between his palms, turning them both bright red. He swipes two fingers across each of his cheeks, marking himself in war paint.
Coated in his own blood with a promise of death on his face, he looksterrifying.
Defiantly, Cartwell lifts his scythe above his head, readying himself for a killing blow. He looks like he’s expelling every bad thing that’s ever happened to him and channeling it into this one, lifesaving blow.
Before he can swipe down with his blade, Tank’s long arm whips out, gripping him tightly around his neck. Cartwell’s once pale face instantly goes red, coughing for a sliver of air. Tank swings him around like a doll, slamming him into the wall of fire next to them.
Cartwell’s body flings around like he has no bones, rattling him so hard, the scythe is knocked out of his grasp. His eyes go wide with realization.
The one thing giving him a chance of walking out of this alive is gone.
Cartwell thrashes in Tank’s grip, but it only fuels him more. Clawing wildly, Cartwell attempts to pry Tank’s giant hand from his throat, but Tank presses Cartwell further into the fire, making him scream in pain.
Bile rises in the back of my throat when the smell of burning flesh hits my nose. I gag, attempting to keep my breakfast down while watching the life snuff out of my competitor’s eyes. Reality settles deep in his bones as he comes to terms with his outcome.
