Rachel Caine - Bite Club

Vassily moved on, and the camera moved with him. They went through some kind of a door, very walk-and-talk, and all of a sudden the camera fumbled and focused on another familiar face. Michael. He seemed okay, but unlike Shane, he was tied up—no, chained. Chained to a wall. He lunged for Vassily, but he came up short. Vassily flashed fangs at him. Michael flashed them right back.

“And this, my friends, is our newest warm-up contender for our champion…Michael! These two have been building a grudge match for more than a year, and it’s all the more violent because they were once best friends. So, who do you think will come out on top: the current victor, or the vampire? Place your bets! The match starts in just a few minutes, with the winner meeting our special benefactor…”

Vassily was walking and talking again, leaving Michael’s frustrated, anguished face behind. The camera jostled after him, through tunnels and darkness, and quite suddenly, apparently to Vassily’s surprise, there was a man standing in his way. His patter faltered and stopped.

It was Mr. Bishop. Not the skeletal, desperate thing that Claire had seen before…no, Bishop had showered, found fresh clothes, and, clearly, fed until he was completely recovered. He looked younger than before. And very, very strong. The menace came off him like black light.

“Well,” Vassily said awkwardly. “Uh, sir, I don’t think you should be—”

“Shut up, Vassily. I make the decisions here,” Bishop said. “And I have decided that today—I will fight the winner of today’s match. I feel the need for a bit of exercise before we move on to bigger prey.”

“Sir, this isn’t…this isn’t what we agreed—”

Bishop’s eyes went red and his fangs came down, and Claire almost dropped the phone. Even whoever was running the camera was moving backward. “I’m changing our agreement, minion. Tonight I’m changing all the agreements. Tonight we will take the fight out of the cage. Into the streets. To the Founder.”

“Sir—”

Bishop hit Vassily hard enough to knock him into the wall, and stood there staring down at him. “I’ve waited long enough,” he said. “I don’t need your filthy money. What I need is to feel her blood in my mouth. Are we understood?”

Vassily got up, cringing, and bowed his head. “Yes, sir. Understood. Uh, but first, we bring you the fighting…?”

“By all means,” Bishop said, and smiled. “I want to see these two do damage to each other. It would please me a great deal.”

The video ended. Claire fumbled with the phone and, hands shaking, pulled up the counter again. Next to it were odds. Shane was favored over Michael two to one. Bishop was heavily favored to beat either one of them.

And the counter……

The counter for the fight had run out.

“No,” Claire whispered. “No…” Bishop didn’t intend for this to go on much longer; he’d gone on camera in open defiance of Amelie. He was serious; this would end in slaughter, whatever happened in the cage match.

They were out of time.

SHANE

He’d been crazy to try it.

When I saw Michael show up at the barn, Vassily and Gloriana had been loading us up in the van to take us to the new place. I don’t know how he found me; I could have sworn nobody at the gym knew anything about where we were, but there he was, Michael effing Glass, walking up in his stupid black vampire coat and hat and gloves, trying to talk to me like we knew each other.

Like he hadn’t stabbed me in the back the second he’d agreed to stop being human.

He’d joined them, the vampires. Our masters, who’d made my dad a loser and let Monica Morrell run wild, doing whatever, which turned out to be fatal for my sister. They’d sent killers after my mom. Michael should have known better. He should have known that no matter what, I couldn’t forgive him, not deep down. They’d taken my family away.

Vassily and Glory had had him grabbed, of course, and stuffed in the other van, the one that held the vamps. They didn’t try to transport us together, not anymore. Too many fights. He kept yelling at me, but I just watched until they had him locked down and then I walked away.

He used to be my friend, and, damn, it still hurt to know he’d done this to us, to me. He’d changed everything. About time he knew how that felt.

Maybe it was the shock of seeing him—I don’t know—but I found I wasn’t feeling quite as pumped up about the upcoming bout as before. My head was hurting and I was tired; sleep hadn’t come easy lately because of all the bruises and cracked bones. When Glory was around, it was better. I didn’t think so much. But now, in the van, I noticed how there was a thick wire mesh between us human fighters and the driver’s seat, like we were vicious dogs or something. When I looked around at the others, I thought maybe that was true. There were four of us in here, and, to be honest, I was probably the toughest. I didn’t look it, though. They looked like my dad’s biker buddies, all sweat and muscles and tats, with shaved heads and goatees. They were ready to tear it up. I guess I was, too, or at least I would be once we got where we were going.

Once Glory smiled at me again.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, and instead of seeing Glory’s wicked, cool smile, I saw Claire’s sweet one, the one she gave only me, the one that had made me forget all about being angry or tough or hurt. With her, things were good. I was good. Because of her. It was the exact opposite of what Glory’s presence did; hers made me remember all the bad stuff, boil it up and over, and want to take it out on anybody who was in the way. Claire made me forget all that and realize that I didn’t have to be angry.

No, I was doing this for her. For her. I needed to earn my passage out of town, before it was too late. She’d even said that the other night, before that awful moment at the gym when she’d been so close to Michael, and I’d—I’d thought…

I knew it wasn’t true. I knew Claire wouldn’t hurt me like that.

I opened my eyes and took in a quick breath. I needed Glory. I couldn’t stay tough if I thought about Claire; I missed her, and I hated that it made me feel weak and sick. She’d left me first, hanging out with that bastard Myrnin, sneaking out to be with him. No matter what she said, that was the truth.

But I couldn’t help it. I wanted her. I wanted her with me, and the only way it could be right was away from here. Out of Morganville.

“Hey, Collins, don’t fall asleep on us!” yelled Brett, who had his first match coming up later, after mine. “Gotta get hot, my man!” He punched me in the shoulder, right where I had a big, spreading bruise and swelling. I didn’t wince, but the pain that shot through me made me see waves of red, and it was suddenly tough to breathe. I rode it out and forced myself to grin back at him.

“I get any hotter, I’ll burn you alive,” I said. He howled like a wolf. Some guys didn’t need Glory’s influence to go nuts; Brett was like that. “Hit me again, and I’ll bust you up, man.”

He flexed his fists and grinned, but he took me seriously and sat down against the wall of the van. “You thinking about that girl again?”

“No,” I lied. I was trying not to, because it hurt. It hurt thinking that somewhere out there she might be looking for me. All I could think about was that somewhere she could be alone, afraid, maybe crying. Because of me.

I shut my eyes again and banged my head on the wall of the van, enough to hurt and leave a dent. I wished Glory had ridden with us.