Page 38 of Reaper
“All of it?”Pete looked surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?”I asked.“If I lose, I’m dead, so there’s no point in saving anything.I doubt you guys will be looking for my next of kin to give them the money left over in my underground fight club account after you bury me in a shallow grave somewhere.”
Pete nodded.“Yeah, that’s fair.”
I continued.“And if I win, I get a hundred thirty grand and change to keep betting on myself until you figure out a way to kill me off or I retire as champ, right?”
He looked uncomfortable at me pointing out that I knew the deck was stacked, but finally answered.“Yeah, pretty much.Like I said, I’ve never seen anybody walk out of here as a Grand Champion.”
“And I don’t just get to randomly retire after tomorrow night, even if I win, do I?That’s all bullshit, right?”I remembered some line about walking away after a couple big wins, but I could still feel the collar around my neck and was pretty sure that if I tried to take early retirement, the Boss or his real boss would go all Suicide Squad on me in a heartbeat.
Pete wouldn’t look me in the eye, which told me a couple things.One, that he knew I was right, and two, that there might still be a decent person in there.Maybe I did have a chance at flipping him to my side and helping me shut this whole shitshow down.“No, you don’t.If you beat Eleanor, the Boss is going to keep you here until you lose.After a couple Tier Five fights, there’s just too much money to pay out if you walk away, so nobody gets to walk away.Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me, pal,” I said, standing up and cracking my knuckles.“Feel sorry for Eleanor and the next four assholes I have to beat to get out of here.Now let’s go get some breakfast.Daddy needs bacon.”
30
The rest of the week was light training, loading up on bacon and pancakes like I thought I was a dying man getting my last meal, and talking to Becks about how we were going to bring this whole place down.The biggest problem we were having was that they still weren’t quite sure exactly where I was.We’d narrowed the search down to a five-mile radius north of the city, so somewhere around Concord or the speedway was the best guess we had.Not exactly perfect GPS coordinates.
So I studied Eleanor in our training time, but I could tell watching her that she was holding back, not showing all her moves in the arena.I didn’t blame her because I was doing the same thing.Problem was, Ihadshown off my best moves when I fought Anthony and the others to get the chance to fight Eleanor, and now I was going to face off against an old, powerful vampire who’d spent the last several weeks destroying all comers in cage fights to the death.And my magical tattoos were almost completely depleted, so the only mojo I had was what I could build up normally.The power I usually stored in my ink was pretty well drained, which meant I was going to be heading back down to Atlanta soon for another eight-hour session of painful needlework.Assuming I survived the weekend.
Tony spent a few hours training with me, doing his best to mimic Eleanor’s speed and strength.The problem was, very few creatures are anywhere near a vampire’s speed, and the older the vampire, the faster they get.Fortunately for me, I’ve been practicing combat with what I assume is the oldest vampire in the world ever since I was old enough to get in any scraps more serious than a schoolyard brawl, so I knew how to anticipate and punch where the monster was going to be, not where they are.But I couldn’t tell Tony that, and I didn’t mind the workouts, so I pretended to be a little worse than I am, and he pretended not to notice me sandbagging.
But eventually, Saturday night rolled around and it was time to fight.I loaded up on breakfast, then had a very light lunch, not wanting to feel all bogged down when the bell rang.Also not wanting to shit myself in the middle of the Colosseum if she caught me with a stout punch to the gut.There are few things worse than fighting with your pants full of homemade chocolate syrup.
I waited until the early fights started, then reached out to Becks.You there, babe?
I’m here.
Any better idea on where I am?
I think so, actually.We might be able to get to you within the hour.Luke’s been out ever since sunset chasing leads, and he just texted me an address and told me to meet him there as soon as I could.So I’m rounding up whatever reinforcements I can find and heading up the highway to what I hope is your location.
Reinforcements?I thought Glory and Faustus were still…I dunno, doing whatever redeemed fallen angels do.
They are,Becks replied.But I’ve got a few people willing to lend a hand.I don’t want to get your hopes up, but if things go the way I’ve planned, we should have enough firepower on our side to shut this place down completely.
Good, because I’m ready to end this bullshit and come home.
You miss me, sweetheart?She somehow managed to make her mental voice sound both snarky and saccharine-sweet at the same time.
Hell yeah, I do,I replied.I’m definitely not cuddling up to Anthony the Faerie Knight or Eleanor the Vampire at night.
Well, don’t get dead, and you can cuddle up to me in a few hours.
That’s all the motivation I need.See you soon.Love you.
Love you too.Now go kick ass.
We cut our connection down to a trickle so I wouldn’t get distracted by her thoughts, and she wouldn’t get distracted by me bleeding, and I geared up for my fight.I had a fresh pair of jeans, one of those skintight Under Armour kind of shirts that’s like yoga pants for your upper half, and my Doc Martens.I wanted to stay as light as possible, and since the Boss continued to turn down my request for a flamethrower in my matches, I didn’t need any kind of holster.
Pete opened the door, and I followed him down the hall to the arena, noticing how everybody got out of my way and nobody met my eyes on the trip.I was a dead man walking to them, and nobody wanted to acknowledge their own mortality by being the last one to speak to me.Except Tony.He stood by the door, a bruise growing on his jaw from his own bout, which he’d obviously won, given the fact that he was standing.
“Good luck, Murray,” he said.His face was grim.
“You don’t look excited about winning,” I said.
“I am not.If you lose, then someone I might consider a friend dies.”
