Page 184 of Bloodguard

Plus a raging vampire colt in full gallop behind us.

Without much thought, I leap over the zigzagging saws. I time it just right.

If I wasn’t carrying Gunther, my balance wouldn’t be off. And I could have cleared the next few blades.

But Idohave Gunther.

My balanceiscompromised.

And I don’t clear those last few saws.

I throw Gunther to my right and stumble to the left.

He’s safe and rolls away.

The first saw cuts through my boot and slices my instep.

The second scrapes the skin off most of my upper arm.

The third cuts into my shoulder blade when I roll.

Agony blinds me with white-hot pain as my screams are swallowed whole by the crowd.

Gunther cries out, pleading with me to get up.

I murmur in response, telling him to run.

If I can’t save him, he must save himself.

At first, he doesn’t listen. But then he hobbles away as another terrified voice calls my name.

Maeve.

Maeve remains with me. She tells me to stand, pleads with me to fight, and her sweet voice echoes softly in my head like it did the night she told me she loved me.

But then the saws burst through the sand, and she screams.

Her terror is enough to jolt me to action. I scramble to my feet as the latest of the buzzing sounds pass by me and rebound toward the colt, who kicks and leaps and races to safety.

Of course she doesn’t get cut.

Of fucking course.

I fumble ahead, the first few steps I take further punishing my mangled foot. I almost fall when I reach for my discarded axe.

The energy I had when this match first started is long gone. My left shoulder is too weak to help me power through all the locks at once.

Two crates left.

Which can I open to cause the most havoc?

Hell if I know.

If my friends can make it and I can make it along with them, we stand a shot.

I curse myself for not opening that mangled crate earlier. I would have had a better chance of helping Gunther.

Would have. Could have. Should have. These words have plagued me in every arena game. They won’t plague me now.

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