Tempting Evil

With an odd sort of popping sound, the wings tore free from the blue creature's flesh. As blood and wings and screams filled the air, the creature—with Nerida still riding its back—plummeted toward the sand. As the other creature swooped to the aid of its mate, Nerida leapt. Not for the fast approaching ground but onto the back of the remaining winged creature.

It didn't seem to notice. Maybe it was too busy trying to stall the dive of its mate. Maybe it simply wasn't bright enough to realize it, too, was about to have its flight skills clipped.

Either way, Nerida grasped the wings and tore them free a second time. Then she leapt off the creature's back, hit the ground ru

Very quickly, very neatly.

The crowd was silent for several heartbeats, then applauded wildly. Anticipating the bloodbath that was to come.

My gaze went to Starr. He was leaning forward in his chair, talking to Merle. After several nods, Merle rose and made his way toward the arena.

The crowd became silent again. Nerida stood in the middle of the arena, breathing a little faster than normal but seemingly otherwise unperturbed.

"Any advice on beating this one?" Berna said softly.

"I've never seen him fight. I don't know what he can do." Or what Starr had ordered him to do.

But one thing was sure—it wouldn't be a fair fight. Starr not only played dirty, he played to win. I had no doubt his lieutenants would, too.

Merle leapt over the railing and dropped onto the sand. Nerida flexed her hands, but otherwise didn't move. Merle studied her for a moment, an arrogant smile touching his lips. "You will die, little fox. You have not a hope against me."

"Vengeance is a powerful motivator against the odds," she said. "Never dismiss it out of hand."

"Oh, I won't. But vengeance should never outweigh common sense." With those words, he took out a gun from behind his back and shot her. Red bloomed across her chest, and just for a moment, shock and anger touched her features. Then she dropped like a boneless sack to the ground.

Berna surged to her feet, crying out in denial and rage. The guard behind us stepped forward, gun butt raised. I twisted, knocking him off his feet, then froze as the muzzle of another gun dug into the back of my neck. Call me strange, but I liked my brains just the way they were.

Three guards jumped on Berna. She fought them, grabbing at their weapons, trying to claim one. More guards jumped into the fray, overwhelming her with sheer weight of numbers. As she went down, I heard a click, and realized someone had tried to fire a gun. In that mass of bodies it could have been deadly. But something had gone wrong, because there was no blood, no gore, no moans of pain.

Maybe the weapon had misfired.

Or maybe it hadn't even been loaded.

A freak like Starr wouldn't want loaded weapons within easy reach of his rivals. He wouldn't take the risk. Probably the only live weapons in the room where the ones being held by Starr and his entourage.

The guards finally managed to restrain Berna. Her gaze went to the arena, to the lifeless body lying on the sand, and her shoulders drooped. There was nothing anyone could do for Nerida now. Not even save her.

Movement in the shadowed corners of the room caught my eye. Ethereal wisps stirred in that darkness. The dead were gathering to collect their revenge.

My gaze darted back to the arena. Merle had lowered the weapon and was walking across to the fox-shifter's body. Underneath her chest was an ever growing pool of red-soaked sand. Nerida didn't appear to be breathing and yet the dead were holding themselves to the shadows.

Maybe the fox was foxing.

Merle stopped and kicked her in the side. There was no response. He did it again, harder this time. Still no response. He bent and warily pressed a finger to her neck.

"Not dead," he said, looking up at Starr. "But close to."

Starr waved a hand. "Feed her meat to the zoo carnivores. They will enjoy the sweetness for a change."

"No!" Berna's voice echoed around the room. "She's alive. You can't do that. It's not human."

"There are very few us of here who are human." Starr's dead gaze moved to me, and the chills ru

He was baiting me, challenging me. I didn't bite. I couldn't, not until I heard from Jack.

"What? So you can allow your coward of a lieutenant to shoot them, too?" Berna shouted, struggling against the grip of the men who held her. "I hardly call that fair."

"This is my arena, my rules. Those who disobey me or try to betray me must expect swift revenge. Justice will never enter the equation."

It was more a warning to the heads of the other cartels who were in this room than a statement to Berna. And it was one I bet everyone in that room took heed of.

I looked back to the arena as Merle walked away from Nerida, the gun held loosely in one hand by his side. His left side, the side closest to Nerida.

She came to life, lunging forward in one of those risk-all movements that only the very desperate make. She snatched the gun from Merle's hand, twisted around as she dropped back to the sand, then pulled the trigger and shot his brains out the back of his head.

Chapter Fifteen

As bits of bone and blood and gray matter sprayed across the sand, she slumped back down and didn't move. Merle fell like a stone beside her.

A wisp that seemed little more than steam but was much, much more began to rise from her body. The dead moved in to collect their prize.

I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Nerida had her revenge—or part of it, at least. But heaven—or whatever it was that fox-shifters believed in—was now beyond her reach. Hell was her resting place. A hell that involved an eternity of torment from the ghosts of those she'd killed.

"No!" Berna's scream seemed to echo around and around the arena. No one moved, no one said anything. Not even me.

"Well, that was unexpected." Amusement rode Starr's voice. Maybe he had other Merles in the making, so it didn't matter if he lost this one. He was still staring at me, challenging me. There was no sign of anything other than the certainty that he would get what he wanted in those soulless depths. What he wanted was me to fight. But my fate would not be death, like Nerida, but something far worse. A one-way trip to the hell of the breeding pens.

But even as I sat there, returning his arrogant, overconfident, insane gaze, the wolf within rose snarling to the surface. This bastard had beaten me, drugged me, and all but destroyed my white-picket-fence-and-babies dream. Worse still, he'd beaten my brother to a pulp. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.

I needed revenge. Needed it. Now.

I might fear the fate I saw in his eyes, and I certainly feared the man himself, but I'd be damned if I could sit here any longer cowering like a newborn pup. If I was going to fight, then I'd damn well do it my way. It might not change the outcome, but at least I'd go down fighting.

"Are there any other grievances I should know about?" he continued. "Is there anyone else who feels the need to challenge my lieutenant or myself?"

The wise remained silent.

No one would ever accuse me of being wise.

I rose to my feet. The gun barrel rested against my neck again, so cold against my skin. I twisted, punched the man holding the weapon in the balls, then grabbed the gun as he went down. A dozen other weapons were instantly aimed in my direction.