Suzanne McLeod - The Sweet Scent of Blood

‘I wasn’t planning to.’ I shrugged out of her embrace. ‘And I wasn’t planning on playing games either.’

She gave me a knowing smile. ‘Check your card, Genevieve.’

I turned it over. The face of the card was printed in flat grey, only as I looked, the grey swirled and eddied. What a surprise—not! I went to give it back to the goblin, but she shook her head.

‘You have to keep it,’ Hannah said.

Of course, I did. I stuck the card down my cleavage.

Hannah picked her own slice of the pack. Her card was painted red. ‘Blood,’ she announced, her face disappointed. ‘Well, I suppose it’s only to be expected.’

‘Get a bleedin’ move on, pets.’ The voice came from behind us.

Tensing, I swung round to face a short, stocky vamp in black wraparounds and full goth outfit flashing his fangs in a grin. ‘We ain’t got the time to muck around, y’know.’ He pushed past us and grabbed half the stack of cards. His card was black.

‘Spectator,’ called the goblin, hiking a thumb over her shoulder at the steel door behind her.

He slapped the card against it. As the door slid away into the wall, noise slammed through the opening like a tidal wave. He strutted out.

I started to head after him, but Hannah gripped my arm. ‘I need to show you where to go.’

‘Hurry up, then,’ I snarled, my patience at an end.

Outside, Hannah led me to a tarmac walkway. I squinted, trying to shield my eyes from the glare of the huge stadium lights. To either side of me was scaffolding, and the underside of wooden planks. Another roar assaulted my ears. The planks rattled, dust filtering down between their cracks as the crowd stamped their feet. I dragged Hannah down the walkway and into an arena, where tiered seats looked down on the action, while above the tightly packed spectators hung giant plasma screens. All were showing close-ups of the two contestants in the ring. They were locked together, arms wrapped around each other like pro-wrestlers.

Then the screens switched to show a league table with a list of names. Betting odds flashed next to each name: the Earl, Rio, others I didn’t recognise, and—my pulse started speeding—my own name at the bottom. Odds against me were sixty to one. Malik’s name wasn’t there.

I tugged on Hannah’s arm and shouted at her above the noise, ‘What are they betting on?’

‘The winner, of course,’ she shouted back.

Fuck.

A tiny Monitor goblin whizzed past our knees, blue dreads swinging, a thick wad of paper in his hand. A vampire, his own long curls falling over his face, leaned over the side of the stands and grabbed the goblin by the scuff of his boiler-suit, lifting him into the air. The vamp’s mouth moved. The goblin scribbled on his pad, then thrust it at the vamp. The vamp shot an appraising look at me, nodded, and dropped the goblin. He tucked into a ball as he fell, rolled to his feet and whizzed away, his trainers flashing.

Hannah pointed at the screen. My odds had halved to thirty to one.

The vamp gave me a double thumbs-up and grinned, showing all four of his fangs.

Nice to know someone had confidence in me.

The screen switched back to the match. The two figures were apart, circling each other, arms outstretched in a fighting stance. Both were naked. The camera zoomed in on the smaller one—Rio, her dark skin gleaming like it was oiled. A close-up highlighted the pink-tinged sweat that beaded in her blue hair, moved to focus on her eyes, the whites stained a deep indigo with power, then cut downwards to her snarling lips pulled back over her fangs. Then the camera panned back out, pausing at the bloody bite wound on her shoulder before taking a fast zoom up for a bird’s eye view of the whole arena.

The crowd stamped and hissed and booed.

Now the larger figure, a troll, filled the screen, his massive body glistening a dark red colour. The camera zoomed in again for the close-up. My heart caught in my throat as I recognised Hugh. I broke into a run, watching as his face grew larger above the ring. His grey eyes were clouded like a storm, his nose was chipped, his skin etched with deep cracks. Then his face was gone in a blur of movement.

The crowd jumped up as one and roared.

The screens switched to a wide-angle shot of the two of them grappling across the solid blue of the fight-ring’s floor.

I ran faster, and as I reached the edge, leapt into the fight-ring—

And hit something not there .

I bounced back, landing on my arse. Swallowing down a scream, I crawled back to the edge and looked .

A shimmering dome rose up and over the ring, its bespelled wall inches from my nose. I stared in at Hugh and Rio. Hugh seemed to be winning. He was banging Rio’s head against the blue floor—but as I looked , I saw a thin aura of grey cushioning the vamp and I realised she was using the spell to protect herself by pulling power from Finn. Hugh didn’t have a chance.

My stomach lurched. That meant Finn had to be somewhere near—she needed him close to get the most from the spell. I scanned the dome, but all I see was Hugh and Rio.

And why the fuck was Hugh fighting Rio anyway?

He was supposed to be Katie’s rescue party, and long gone by now.

Hannah bent over me, offered her hand. ‘There’s a containment-spell, ’ she yelled in my ear and pointed. ‘If you want to get in, you have to go round to the entrance.’

I looked round. The arena was a pentagon, with only four of its sides tiered. The fifth side, the one opposite me, was flat space, with no seats, nothing—except for a lone figure in the distance.

I raced round the walkway between the dome and the stands.

‘You’ll need your card to get in,’ Hannah’s faint shout followed me.

Snatching the card from my cleavage, I held it in front of me and felt the brush of magic as I swung round the last corner and into the entrance area.

I stuck my card back between my corseted breasts and strode towards the figure.

‘ Good evening, my dear.’ The Earl bowed his head, his blond hair flopping forward. Power gave his skin a translucent sheen, which matched the embroidered blue hearts that entwined in pairs down the front of his navy velvet coat. The coat cut away around his knees to show the tight leather boots that encased his legs. Whatever image he was going for, it wasn’t one I recognised.

‘I do appreciate the effort you’ve made to attend our little soirée.’ He stroked his silk lapels as he cast an appraising glance over my outfit. ‘And you look as delightful as ever.’

I stuck my hands on my hips, my chest heaving as I struggled for air. The corset was so not made for breathing, let alone running. ‘Not sure I can say I’m pleased to be here,’ I gasped. ‘I’ve better things to do with my nights than participate in your little spats.’

For a moment he inclined his head as if listening, only there was nothing to hear. The noise from the crowd was gone, held behind the containment-spell I’d come through. The place was as quiet as the proverbial grave.

I so hoped it wasn’t a bad omen.

‘Shall I enlighten you as to the rules, my dear?’

‘Please do,’ I said, relieved my voice sounded calm, if a bit breathless, despite the anxious thudding of my heart.

‘Rio has issued Challenge to me, as is her blood-right.’ The Earl strolled towards the fight-ring, indicating that I should follow him. ‘She wishes to usurp my position. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I gave her the Gift, and I would not hesitate to take it from her, except that she has something I want.’

I snorted. ‘The spell.’