Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Sarah

“ D o you really need a chaperone back here?” Omen asked.

There was no one in the interior corridor leading to the concession station, so I had to agree. “No, I don’t. Deacon is just paranoid, and did you know this fight would be to the death?” The thought made me want to hyperventilate. Or throw up. Or both.

She shook her head. “Shit. I like Jac.” Then she quickly added, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

That made me laugh a little, since Omen professed to hate Jac. “If he lives, I promise I won’t.”

“He will live, Sarah,” Omen said, sounding just as optimistic as Deacon. “Jac is nothing, if not quick and strong and fierce. He is one of the best warriors I have ever known. Don’t tell him I said that, either.”

“I need booze before I will start to feel better about this,” I insisted as we continued to walk through the empty corridor, which seemed to be endless.

“Order some neneed,” Omen suggested. “It’ll be the cheap stuff in a place like this, but it’ll get you intoxicated before kocha will.”

I pressed a hand to my anxious belly. “Is it good for the stomach?”

“Stick with kocha then.” She narrowed her gaze on me. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I think it’s just nerves.” I exhaled a breath, which didn’t do much to help calm my anxiety. “Since we arrived on Faithless, I’ve felt sick about pretty much everything.”

She smirked. “You mean ever since you threatened the border guard and could have gotten us all killed with your bravado? That was excellent, by the way. Very impressive.”

A jittery laugh escaped me. “Thanks.”

“And if you feel sick, tell yourself to stop feeling sick.”

I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I am not sure if you can do it, too, but when one of the conduits felt ill, Portend could tell her to stop feeling ill, and she would feel better immediately.”

I closed my eyes as we kept strolling down the corridor and told myself, “Stop feeling sick. You feel fine.”

Shockingly, my energy picked up, like when I had too much coffee, and my stomach gurgled before it settled down. I opened my eyes and smiled. “Wow, that’s a great trick.”

“A useful tool ,” she said, almost correcting me with her tone. “We do not perform tricks. That is for magicians.”

“There are Ladrian magicians?” I asked, fascinated by the thought.

She nodded once, as her expression darkened. “They are a terror.”

“Where I’m from, magicians are usually middle-aged guys who perform tricks for children’s birthday parties and corporate events.”

“Where I’m from, they are men who can alter reality, making you see whatever they want you to see, and it is always a nightmare. If you are lucky, that is all they do to you.”

Still captivated by the topic, I asked, “Why would they do that?”

“Magicians have long been opposed to the faith, to conduits, to Mothers, all of it,” Omen explained. “They belong to an ancient cult who believe we led people astray…”

The despair in Omen’s voice was palpable. It was strange—I had never thought of Omen as someone who would be upset merely by speaking about something. She was always so even keeled. But now, she looked haunted and shaken.

The magicians must be terrible. “You don’t have to tell me anything else about them, if you don’t want to.”

She shook off the darker emotion and tried to appear like herself again. “Thankfully, they are rare now. After the conduits executed their high ranking officials, most of them are scattered to the wind.”

“We executed them?” I didn’t like the sound of that, either.

A proud smile tilted her lips. “As many as we could find. I beheaded several myself.”

“Oh.” That was unnerving, and I craved a change in topic. “Yeah, so when that tramp started flirting with Deacon and said the thing about the fight being to the death, it made the sick feeling inside of me worse. What do you think I should do about her? I don’t know how Ladrians deal with someone flirting with their man.”

“I noticed that, too. The flirting. She’s tacky to be doing that in front of you, but she might get worse, now that you’re gone. Want me to keep an eye on them?”

I shrugged. “I trust Deacon, but if that bitch lays a finger on him in front of me, she’ll lose her entire hand.”

“I’ll see to it. I can watch from the alcove while you get your Neneed. I wouldn’t mind a little bloodshed in the stands to liven things up.” A chipper Omen left for the hall near the doorway.

Her eagerness for blood and her pride in executing magicians were both concerning to me. Maybe I should be grateful she’s with me, in all of this. Always good to have one more warrior on my side, I guess. I was boggled by it all, though. If I’m surrounded by killers, am I the bad guy?

Before I got to the concession area, though, a deep voice behind me asked, “Are you lost?”

Startled, because I thought I was alone, I turned around to find a smiling ghost standing there. He was handsome—around seven and a half feet tall, thickly muscular. There was an ease to his smile, like he had all the time in the world to speak to me. Pale for a Ladrian—most of the light-skinned ones had a deep tan or taupe skin. His flashing purple eyes had a lot of blue to them, making them almost indigo, but not quite. A black tunic and trousers set him apart from the more colorful Ladrian style of the others in the crowd.

He wore two gauntlet drivers—a peculiarity. It was more common for Ladrians to wear one, usually on the right forearm, like where Deacon had me strap mine. His looked to be black leather, and the left one almost concealed the handle to something. I liked his blue hair. It was longer than most of the men wore, and a loose bit hung in front of his forehead.

There was a frisson in the air between us. I couldn’t sort it out—my body felt similar to when I had come out of the Mother Test. Every sense was on alert, but I wasn’t scared. My body felt on top of everything, like I was in control of each moment, and yet, at the same time, not at all.

“I’m not lost, thank you,” I said politely. “Just here for some kocha.”

“Come now, that is a drink for children. But perhaps you have children, and I am assuming—”

“No. No kids.”

“But you are united,” he said with a confident smirk.

Is he flirting with me, while asking about my union? Weird. I nodded. “How do you know that?”

“Ghosts can always tell.” He gradually drifted toward me. “It is in your aura. A pity you are united.”

“Why is that a pity?” I asked, curious to hear his reasons.

“I did not know humans could be so attractive as you.”

The handsome ghost is definitely flirting with me. “You’re sweet, but—”

He stopped a few feet away from me and laughed. It was unencumbered, like he had never had a self-conscious thought in his life. Or in his death. His voice was rich and smooth when he said, "I have been accused of many things, but sweet ?” He shook his head. “Not ever.”

“Perhaps people should get to know you better.”

“There are few who know me at all,” he said quietly, almost as though it pained him to admit such a thing.

Hearing him say those words made a wound in my soul. Why do I care about his lack of friends? I don’t even know him. I asked about something more grounded to stay focused. “Did you come here for the neneed?”

“No, it’s not really my drink. Not usually.”

“What do you like to drink?” I asked with a friendly smile. “I’ll buy.”

His eyes perused my body slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. Even though I was completely dressed, modestly for me in fact, his heavy gaze stripped me bare. I fought the urge to shiver, newly naked for his X-ray eyes. My throat went dry, but between my legs, I grew wet.

What the hell was up with that?

He cleared his throat as his eyes met mine once more. “They don’t sell what I like to drink here.”

I had no idea what to say. There were no more thoughts in my head at all. I felt spellbound, and my body felt hot, alive. Aroused.

This is not okay. I need to go.

I blinked a few times before words came back to me, though I had to force myself to speak. “On second thought, I should get back to my companion . I think the fights are about to start—”

“Who is your companion?” he asked in a smooth, deep tone.

“I have two, actually—”

“Two?” he murmured seductively. “You must be a woman of many talents.”

Heat rose up my cheeks. “I am.”

He almost smirked but seemed to think better of it, and it became an amiable smile. “Who are your companions?” he asked again.

Something inside of me told me to go, that this man-ghost wasn’t what he seemed, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot, unable to take a step. “Jacaranda Cozz and Deacon Ladrang.”

The light of recognition flashed in those mesmerizing eyes. Had he seen Jac’s name on the fighting roster?

“I would like to meet them,” he purred in a lover’s tone. “But alas, I have business elsewhere for now.”

The paranoid part of me said, good . But oddly enough, the rest of me didn’t want him to go. “What’s in the left gauntlet?” I asked, pointing to his arm. “That handle?”

He smirked fully this time. “You’re observant.”

“I’m shorter than most of you. It’s easier to see for me.”

He pulled the handle, revealing a gorgeous bone knife. Somehow, I didn’t feel threatened by it—I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. I wasn’t sure how I knew he was no threat, but I wasn’t scared as he held the knife out to me, showing off the glittering ruby jewels in the blade.

“I got it from…someone who no longer had need of it,” he explained.

He means he killed them and stole their fancy bone knife. Run, Sarah, run! My inner voice was loud, but my body felt as though it was drenched in molasses and wasn’t cooperating.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He tucked it away.

Drums played in the arena, perking both our heads in that direction. “I guess the fight is about to begin,” I said, knowing that I’d already been gone too long. “I really should be going.”

“Not to worry,” he said, his tone exuding authority. “They would not dare start the fights until I am in my tower box.”

Everything clicked in my mind, and the question popped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it. “You’re Rex Terian, aren’t you?”

“Clever human,” he said, looking impressed. “Yes, Contra, I am. You are Sarah Hollinger, right?”

I tried not to gulp after all the horrid things I’d heard about this man. “Yes, I am.”

“Come with me.” He held out a hand toward me.

My insides clenched with unease. “That doesn’t sound like a request.”

“I don’t make requests in Faithless, but if we were in your territory, I would acquiesce to your wishes. It is a matter of respect.”

I was torn—everyone had warned me that Rex Terian was the enemy. The stories of him had made it plain. Yet he didn’t seem like the monster he was made out to be. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, perhaps? I wasn’t sure. Maybe he had turned over a new leaf. Though he did give me a slave girl, and that wasn’t okay.

His handsome face shifted into an honest smile, and I wasn’t sure if it was a show for me or because he was about to be truthful. Either way, I knew I couldn’t trust him, I thought with a small measure of clarity that wasn’t there moments before. Definitely a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Maybe a whole pack of wolves. He was slick and smart and seductive about it, and he clearly wanted something from me. As sexy and charming as he was, I needed to watch myself with him.

“I see your hesitation,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “My reputation precedes me, I imagine. Would you feel better if you had my bone knife?” He produced it again and held the handle out for me to take.

I arched a brow but didn’t touch the proffered knife. “What makes you think I don’t have one of my own?”

“I meant, because then I would be disarmed.”

“No, you wouldn’t be,” I said, giving him a once over. “I imagine you have more weapons stashed somewhere on your body and from what I understand, you are a weapon, so I am not na?ve enough to believe you could ever be truly disarmed, Rex.”

He grinned wickedly, glanced down toward his cock, then back up at me. “Parts of me could be weaponry, yes.”

I blushed again but did my best to hold firm. “I don’t know that I should come with you. I don’t know you at all. And yes, your reputation precedes you.”

“How else do you really get to know someone, aside from spending time with them?” he asked reasonably.

He has a point, and I do want to discuss returning Leda to him. “Okay, valid, but—”

“If you join me, you can discover whether all those nasty rumors about me are true, or not. Plus, my tower box has its own bar, where I carry the best banwine on Halla, far better than the swill they sell down here.”

I felt my resolve crumbling and fought to keep my wits about me. “That is tempting, but—”

“Come on.” His devious smile rose, messing with my head and making me weak to resist him. “I’ve got the best seat in the house.”

If I don’t go with him, he might cause trouble for Deacon and Jac. Or he might not take Leda back. I’m only doing this to protect them. Right? My thoughts were confusing, and eventually, my worry just… faded away like wisps of smoke.

I accepted his bone knife and tucked it into my belt. “I’ll come with you,” I heard myself say, while something inside of me tried to push back against that decision, and failed.

He held out his arm for me to take, and I laughed at his gallant gesture. “You’re a ghost. I can’t take your arm.”

“Try me,” he challenged.

So, I did. I looped my arm through his, and to my shock, I could feel his body. “How?”

He chuckled, low and a bit depraved. “Dear Sarah, I can show you all kinds of tricks.”