Riley Jensen 03 - Tempting Evil Part 16

The d.a.m.n man had just vanished into thin air.

Chapter Seven

Which was impossible, of course. If Moss had s.h.i.+fted shape, become a bird, I would have heard the flap of wings. The forest was too still, too quiet, and the sound would have carried. And if he'd become something else there would have been a trail to follow. h.e.l.l, even a vampire couldn't help leaving signs of his pa.s.sing in the lush undergrowth of the forest floor. Not that a vampire could have disappeared like that in the middle of the day-unless, of course, he was some sort of day vampire, able to use the daylight to hide his form the same way a regular vampire can use the night and the shadows.

Even then, I should have been able to catch his non-scent on the still air.

So, there had to be some other explanation. Like maybe, a hidden entrance to underground hideouts. There hadn't been one on either the plans Jack had given me or the ones Dia had drawn, but then, if Starr was so worried about security, he wouldn't have advertised the fact that his foxhole had escape routes. Exits could become entrances to those with unsavory intent.

I let my gaze roam over the ground, but I couldn't immediately see anything that screamed "hidden entrance." Nor could I afford to waste time searching. Not now, in daylight. But it might be worth coming back tonight and checking it out more thoroughly. If I could escape Moss's clutches at a decent hour, that was.

I turned and retraced my steps. When I was well clear of the spot where Moss had disappeared, I hit the com-link.

"I just met Leo Moss."

"And?"

"He's madly in l.u.s.t with me. I'll be spending tonight in his bed." Or wherever else it was he liked to have s.e.x. It wouldn't be standard stuff, of that I was certain.

"Excellent. I wouldn't try reading his mind tonight, though. Scout out the situation, give it time, and let him feel relaxed around you."

"I wasn't intending to do anything until Rhoan got here." He was the experienced one, so everything I did I'd clear through him first. If that was possible. "Listen, has the Directorate got access to satellite scanning?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I followed Moss, and in the middle of the forest he simply disappeared. I'm thinking there might be a few tunnels under this joint."

"Makes sense that Starr would have escape routes. And we do scan this area every six months to record changes, but maybe the tunnels are a recent addition. I'll arrange for scanning in the next pa.s.s over."

"Good, but I might check it out later tonight anyway."

"Don't do anything to jeopardize your position."

"I'm not dumb."

"No, just inexperienced."

"This from the man who is constantly pus.h.i.+ng me to be a guardian."

"Which is why I don't want to lose you just yet. Be careful, that's all I'm saying."

"I will. Talk to you later, boss." I pressed the com-link, and loped the rest of the way to the clearing where Kade waited.

Where, after a little discussion on what had happened, we filled in the remainder of the time sating his needs and mine.

The old man came out as I rode up to the stables. Kade stopped, and I slid off his back.

"Good ride?" he asked, accepting the reins from me.

I nodded, and patted Kade's sweaty shoulder. "This bad boy was horribly frisky. I think he needs to be ridden more often."

Kade snorted and stamped a foot, and I barely restrained my grin.

"You'll be back tomorrow then?" the old guy asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll get security to notify us when you're headed this way, so we can have him ready for you."

"Thanks... have you got a name?"

"Tommy."

He thrust out a hand and I shook it. His fingers were rough, textured by time, grime, and probably years of hard work. He didn't seem the type to work for sc.u.m like Starr, which was an odd thing to think about someone I'd barely met. For all I knew, Tommy could be Starr's uncle. "I'm Poppy. Thanks."

He took Kade inside, and I headed back to my room to clean up. Neither Berna nor Nerida were there, but my bag was sitting on my bed. A quick check revealed that my clothes and underclothes had disappeared, but all my toiletries remained. Grateful for small mercies, I headed into the bathroom to clean up. Surprise, surprise, there were cameras here, too. I couldn't see any microphones, though. Maybe they figured not a lot of nasty talk could happen in a bathroom-which only went to prove the installers were men. All women know just how nasty bathroom conversation can get-especially when it centered on men.

Though, given the man behind this whole weird show wasn't exactly chummy with linear lines of thought, maybe he just didn't care.

By the time I got back to the bedroom, Berna and Nerida were both there, the still-clothed bear-s.h.i.+fter prowling the room like a caged animal and the overall-clad fox-s.h.i.+fter lounging on her bed, reading Cleo. The cream overalls were extremely tight and left very little to the imagination, making me wonder why she bothered. h.e.l.l, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were so tightly packed they were stretching the material to the max, making the pocket-and the gray and white hanky sticking out of it-stand out like, well, dogs ball's. If she thought the overalls would draw less attention, she was seriously delirious.

Both of them were studiously ignoring me, so I returned the favor and headed over to my bed to open the window. Fresh air drifted in, touched by the coolness of the oncoming night. But aside from the snorting or stamping of horses and the occasional crunch of a guard's footsteps, very little noise carried on the breeze. All the normal dusk sounds-like the warbling of magpies or even the singing of crickets-was nonexistent here, and that one fact sent chills up my spine. Anything that scared insects senseless was something to worry about, in my estimation.At six forty-four, Berna reluctantly began to strip. She seemed big in her clothes, but she was positively huge out of them. And none of it was fat. She was just large in every conceivable way-huge shoulders, brawny arms, melon b.r.e.a.s.t.s, big hips, and chunky, muscular thighs and s.h.i.+ns. She pretty much looked as if she could snap someone in two without effort between those legs of hers, which made me wonder about her earlier statement that she wasn't a top wrestler. How could someone be built like that and not be one of the best?

It wasn't a question I had the chance to ask, because she'd barely finished stripping when our escort showed up. He gave us all a once-over, nodded in what I presumed was approval, then motioned us to follow him.

Which, of course, we did. The remaining women who'd been on the bus were already in the hallway and being guided away, and amongst them were two women I didn't recognize. Probably two of the three women who had remained from the last group.

We were escorted along until we'd reached one of the arena doors, which had been locked against my earlier explorations.

According to the plans, the arena was designed after the old Roman gladiatorial arenas, though on a far smaller scale. But as we walked into the room, I realized the plans gave no real indication of the sheer scale of the place. Not only did everything soar in this room, but everything seemed oversized, as if the whole intent was to make the room's occupants seem small by comparison. Which was probably the effect someone as warped as Starr would want. The ceiling arched so high above us that without the spotlights it would have been shrouded in darkness, and the statues of naked men and women that lined the wall were at least double the standard sizing. The arena walls were high enough to prevent most s.h.i.+fters and weres from leaping out, though it wouldn't have stopped winged s.h.i.+fters. The arena's center was sand, but studded posts stood at either end, the wood chipped and stained. By what, I just didn't want to know.

Tables and chairs lined three-quarters of the arena. A long table dominated the far end, the white tablecloths, gold settings, and grandiose, highly ornate chairs that looked like something out of the courts of kings. Starr's seating area, obviously.

Though he and his entourage weren't here yet, a lot of people were. There weren't many women, meaning the wh.o.r.es probably didn't rate an invite to this little s.h.i.+ndig. Some of the men I knew from the files Jack had given me on known Starr a.s.sociates, but there were many more I didn't recognize. Just as well Rhoan was coming in with the camera-I had a feeling there were a lot of wanted people in this room.

Of course, with so many people already here, the babble of voices and reek of aftershave and humanity was almost overwhelming. But it was the underlying scent, the base rawness of death and despair that seemed to be leeching from the sand itself that had trepidation stirring.

This room wasn't about fighting. Wasn't about enjoying a spectacle. It was about control. About destruction.

Of hope. Of humanity.

I didn't realize I'd stopped until Berna shoved me from behind.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" she said, voice low and annoyed.

"You're a bear-s.h.i.+fter-can't you smell it?"

"Misery," Nerida said softly, her sharp gaze briefly resting on mine. In the amber depths of her eyes, fear flickered. "This place is drenched in it."

"Weres," Berna said heavily, "are very strange people."

"No. It's just that dogs of all kinds have noses designed to trap smells, and certain emotions are accompanied by strong scents.

Fear, for example." I glanced at her as our guide led us to a table near the wall and the stained post. "I would have thought a bear-s.h.i.+fter would know that, given your olfactory senses are as keen, if not keener, than a wolfs."

She shook her head. "That may be true, but we are attuned to physical scents and sounds more than emotional ones. The click of a gun being c.o.c.ked one hundred feet away or the scent of a carca.s.s two miles away, for instance. Emotions have no scent for us."

"So this arena doesn't worry you?"

"I'm being paid good money to fight in it." Her gaze came to mine. "So are you."

"I love a good fight as much as the next wolf, but this arena isn't just about fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "If that turns out to be true, then maybe the three of us should plan a little bust-out."

"With cameras on every corner? They'd catch us inside a minute." Though if I wanted to get out of this place, I'd d.a.m.n well find a way, cameras or not. "And I'd be careful where you said that, because they have voice monitors as well as cameras in this joint."

She looked around as she sat down on the chair near the wall. "Really? Where?"

I nodded to the black dome above the table to our left. "That looks like a PTR-1043. It comes complete with sound and motion sensors." I grinned at their surprised looks, and embellished the truth with a little lie. "f.u.c.ked a home security guy for a while. He liked to go on about his hardware."

Nerida snorted. "As all men do."

"I'm gathering that's where you picked up the finer skills of a thief?" Berna asked.

I glanced at her. There was no animosity in her voice or on her features, yet I felt the wave of her disapproval all the same.

"Yes."

She harrumphed and didn't add anything else, simply crossed her arms and stared out over the arena. Nerida looked at me for a few seconds longer, then said, "You don't seem like a thief to me."

That's because I wasn't, but if I was fooling Berna and everyone else, why wasn't I fooling the fox-s.h.i.+fter? What was she picking up that the others weren't? I forced a casual shrug. "And what does a thief look like?"

"s.h.i.+fty. Desperate. You don't."

"Well, I'm not right now, am I?"

A set of trumpets blasted before she could answer, and an unseen announcer ordered us to rise. I ignored the speculation in Nerida's eyes, pus.h.i.+ng to my feet as I glanced over to the main table. Starr, his lieutenants, and their hangers-on were entering the room like royalty. And considering at least one of them was a queen, maybe that was appropriate.

Starr himself wasn't the type of man who immediately drew the eye. He was on the small side, thin, with bristly brown hair and sallow-looking skin. Not that this was the real Starr-he'd been killed off some time ago and replaced by the shapes.h.i.+fting son of the man who'd started the whole cloning nightmare. This Starr was flanked by his two lieutenants-Moss in front, Merle behind, both men naked from the waist up. Of the three, Merle was perhaps the most eye-catching. Not only did he have the build of an Adonis, but strong, almost feline features and the striped skin of a tiger. In any normal situation, I would have named him yummy and pounced. But knowing who he was, what he was, kind of killed desire.

Which wouldn't matter a d.a.m.n if he had an aura as powerful as Moss's.One of the accompanying guards pulled out the most ornate of the chairs. Starr didn't immediately sit, instead leaning his hands on the table as he skimmed his gaze across the crowd. He seemed to pause when he came to our table, and though we were far enough away that I couldn't even see the color of his eyes, a chill ran all the way down my spine. It was as if, in that brief moment, Starr sensed who I was.

I licked my lips, and clenched my hands against the sudden desire to run. This rush of fear was ridiculous. Starr couldn't know my real ident.i.ty. I'd be dead, or locked up in one of his freak pens, if he did. His gaze lingered for several rapid heartbeats, then he leaned sideways and made a comment to Moss. When he finally moved on to the remaining crowd, I sighed in relief. Not that it eased the tension curling through my limbs any, because I had a bad feeling I was going to get an introduction to that madman far sooner than I'd antic.i.p.ated.

Once Starr had taken a seat, the rest of us were allowed to. Waiters immediately appeared, plunking plates of vegetables and meats on the table.

As we ate, a solitary man walked onto the arena. Spotlights followed his progress, s.h.i.+ning across his hairless cranium but throwing the rest of his body into shadow. The babble of voices gave way to a weird mix of trepidation and excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen." His voice seemed to echo across the vast arena, and the clink of cutlery died. "Tonight you will bear witness to the price of foolishness."

He made a sweeping motion with his hand, and part of the wall on the far side of the arena began to slide up. From it came two men and a woman. She was striking to look at-white blonde hair, golden skin, big b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and hourgla.s.s figure. The sort of woman who'd graced the centerfolds of men's magazines year in and year out, almost since the birth of such things.

Though her hands were tied, her expression was defiant, like she was sure this was nothing more than a minor hiccup.

I was sure it wasn't.

The tension that had begun to ebb revved into high gear again, and suddenly the food on my plate lost its taste. I forced what I already had in my mouth down, then pushed the rest away. I had no stomach left for food. No stomach for whatever it was that was coming.

"This fighter, Janti Harvey, was caught in an off-limit s.p.a.ce. She was given the choice of being whipped for her mistake or facing the arena. She has chosen the arena."

Bad mistake. She had to be a s.h.i.+fter or were of some kind, so however bad the whipping was, for her it was a survivable punishment simply because s.h.i.+fting shape would heal the worst of the wounds. And okay, it wouldn't be pleasant and would probably haunt her nights, but that would surely be better than facing the unknown in the arena.

But as my gaze went to her face, I saw the arrogance. The confidence. Maybe this woman had been so successful in the arena she figured she could beat whatever foe they presented her with.

Obviously, no one had ever shown her the zoo or the creatures held prisoner within it.

"Bring down the cage," the announcer continued dramatically.

Both he and the woman looked up, so it was natural the rest of us would follow suit. From the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a huge cage began to lower. It was made of some kind of s.h.i.+ny metal and looked very much like the top half of a fancy birdcage.

It lowered to the wall and clicked into place with barely a whisper, covering the entire arena in a huge mesh of metal. Which was how they kept the bird-s.h.i.+fters in.

"Release her ropes."

The two guards did so, then quickly retreated. To anyone with an ounce of common sense, that would have been the first warning that things were going to get much worse. But the woman simply shook her hands and rolled her head.

I crossed my arms, somehow resisting the urge to stand up and tell her to run. Because caged as she was, where could she actually run?

"Release her opposition for the fight." The words were barely out of his mouth and the announcer was beating a hasty retreat to the entrance he'd appeared from.

The woman began a series of warm-up exercises. Down the far end of the arena, doors slowly opened. Tension rolled through me, tightening already taut muscles to the point of pain.

I didn't know what was worse-sitting here waiting to see what would come out of those doors, or knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop the woman below from meeting her fate.

A fate she seemed so oblivious to.

The doors opened fully, and out of the shadows of the tunnel beyond stepped two thin, blue humanoids with b.u.t.terfly wings folded at their backs. A murmur of approval ran across the crowd, but stopped at our table. Nerida and Berna looked every bit as disturbed by events as I was.

The blue things halted just past the door and lightly fanned their wings. The lights caught the colors in the delicate, veillike membranes, making them gleam like a thousand different jewels. But the beauty of the wings were offset by the wicked claws that replaced the top half of their fingers. And by the barbs that lined their c.o.c.ks.