Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

The downside to this particular location smacked me in the nose the moment I opened my door. The stink of tepid water, oil, and burned things combined in a nostril-tingling odor that turned my stomach. The smell would also make it impossible for Therian noses to tell if Tybalt, or anyone else, was lurking nearby.

We assembled at the rear of our car, while Vale and his entourage moved to the front of his SUV. I hadn't looked Vale in the eye since the moment he tried to turn Wyatt on me in that jail cell, and I curbed the impulse to stride across the asphalt and plant my fist in his eye. Vale stood tall, straight backed, a nervous man pretending he was bold. I couldn't guess as to his backup until our two groups began walking toward one another, and their eye colors flashed in the brightening morning light.

The blonde woman to Vale's left had copper eyes—female Felia, probably the same one who'd tortured the pups. Starr Tuck, if we were lucky. An older, silver-haired man also had the copper eyes of a Felia. The third man, barely a teenager, had the bright green eyes and multiple-shades-of-brown hair of the Ursia Clan.

What the hell?

Not that I had room to judge, since Marcus's backup was a Felia, a Cania, and a human.

We all stopped with a safe distance of five feet between us, give or take. Marcus stood in front of us, Vale on point with his own group. A low, feline growl came out of them both, and something rippled in the air between them, as though their hatred had become a tangible thing.

"Where are the items you stole?" Marcus asked. His voice was deeper than its usual baritone, dripping with violence.

Vale snapped his fingers. The Ursia boy scampered back to the SUV and retrieved something from the rear compartment. He left that door up, open, then rushed back to us with the leather pouch and cylinder in his hands. The boy took a moment to show us that both the scroll and the powder were intact.

Kyle returned to our car and grabbed the briefcase of money that Eulan had provided. After showing Vale the cash, we made the exchange. A tiny part of my heart lightened, knowing we had the vampire cure back in our hands.

"And the Lupa?" Marcus asked.

Vale's eyebrows twitched, as if to say Marcus was pressing his luck. "Ben, show the human."

A bear named Ben. Sure, why not?

I followed Ben to the SUV, aware of each of my weapons and their distance from my hands. Aware of Ben's proximity. He led me to the rear compartment, where a thick green blanket covered a large lump. He stepped aside, seeming as eager to keep me at a distance as I was to return the favor. I yanked back the blanket.

John was wearing what looked like an entire roll of duct tape—around his arms, legs, ankles, wrists, even his mouth. He'd been trussed up like a hog in the most uncomfortable backwards position possible. Both his eyes were blackened, and a few other bruises peeked out from beneath his layers of tape. Layers over naked skin. Fuck, that was going to hurt coming off.

He was unconscious, and the only thing that kept me from flying into a rage was the lack of a silver collar. Eight hours in one of those things when already beaten up might have killed him.

"Stone?" Marcus hollered.

I stepped around the SUV and headed back for the group. "He's alive."

Ben slammed the rear door shut, then shadowed me to Vale. So far, Vale was being way too cooperative. He had a Tybalt-shaped ace up his sleeve somewhere so why hadn't he played it yet?

I was still a good ten feet away when Vale stepped forward, his hand extended. I thought he was offering to shake Marcus's hand because Marcus likewise reached out. Only Marcus withdrew quickly, holding something bright and metallic. He glared at the item, then passed it to Astrid without ever breaking Vale's gaze. Vale was speaking, but he shut up before I reached Kyle's side.

All three of my friends were livid, anger blazing in their eyes. Astrid handed the metal item to me, and I nearly dropped it—the prosthetic knife attachment Tybalt had been wearing when he left last night.

"Son of bitch," I said.

Marcus angled toward me, careful to never give Vale his back. "My life or Tybalt's. If I kill Vale, then Tybalt dies."

Vale had played his ace, the fucker. But we still had one move he wasn't expecting and—

The gentle rumble of an approaching car engine put Vale's group on high alert. We were expecting the black sedan that circled around Vale's SUV and parked between our two vehicles.

Elder Macario Rojay of Cania stepped out of the front passenger seat. He was a young Elder, with wild brown hair, coffee-colored eyes, and a ruddy complexion. He wore a snappy suit and carried a tablet in his hands. He was one of the few Elders actively involved in Watchtower activities and he had pledged the support of the Cania Clan to our cause. Kyle's Clan.

"Elder Rojay," Vale said. He looked stuck between wanting to cower and wanting to stomp his feet in a tantrum. "What are you doing here?"

Stupid question, really, since Vale was a fugitive wanted by the Assembly of Clan Elders. But he was pretty baffled by the Elder's planned appearance.

"This is a duel of honor," Kyle said, speaking up for the first time. "Duels are often fought in the presence of the Clan Elder in order to ensure all promises are kept. As the Felia Elder is unable to perform his duties, my Elder graciously agreed to oversee the fight."

Vale sputtered, clearly knocked on his ass by our little trick. He'd couldn't object because Marcus was completely within his rights to retain an Elder as a kind of referee. Vale's blonde touched his shoulder and whispered something that seemed to calm his indignation a little bit.

"Shall we observe the fighting grounds?" Elder Rojay asked.

He led the way. The doors to the Terminal Station weren't locked—someone had broken that long ago. We walked into a cavernous room three stories tall, mostly glass walls with a high tin roof. A line of boarded up ticket windows was on the left, and a dusty, linoleum floor spread out in front of us. Broken benches had been shoved to the side, piled up against walls in a feeble attempt to store them for some purpose or another. The air was stale, despite a few broken panes of glass. The rising sun shone through on the east-facing side, creating partial glare and partial darkness.

"Is the arena acceptable to both participants?" Elder Rojay asked.

Vale and Marcus both agreed.

"And what are the terms of the fight?"

"If I win," Marcus said, "Vale releases the Lupa boy named John back into my custody without further harm."

And Tybalt dies.

"And when I win," Vale said, "he remains in my custody, and we leave this location without interference from the Assembly or Marcus's witnesses." And Tybalt lives.

Maybe.

This was one of those times I was glad to be human, rather than Felia, because I wasn't bound to these little rules. If Marcus was killed, nothing would stop me from putting a bullet between Vale's eyes—after I had Tybalt safe and sound.

"Are these terms acceptable to both combatants?" Elder Rojay asked.

The combatants agreed.

"And this a fight to the death."

More agreement.

"Who are the witnesses for Vale Tuck?"

The trio stepped forward without introducing themselves. The Elder looked them over, then nodded. He turned to our little quartet.

"Who are the witnesses for Marcus Dane?"

Astrid, Kyle and I stepped forward.

"A human woman is not an acceptable witness to a Therian duel," Elder Rojay said. "Not even a Gifted human. She must wait outside until the matter at hand is decided."

I pretended to be affronted by the exclusion. Even Astrid mustered up a good dose of outrage on my behalf. But this was going exactly as planned. I wanted to be there and give Marcus my moral support while he fought for his life against the biggest coward to wear a fur coat, but my time was better spent on the hunt.