Page 51 of Taste of Forever
“No, sir.” Cyan went toward him, unhurried and confident. I did my best to copy his movements and demeanor. Despite being younger than me and fairly new to adulthood, Cyan knew how to talk his way into, or out of, any situation.
Me? I usually ended up putting my foot in my mouth.
“We’re looking for some action on these fights. You got an entry fee?” Cyan asked.
The old Marrower blinked, his pupils tiny in the dim light. “What fights you talking about?”
Cyan chuckled before I could say anything stupid. “All right. That much, huh? Better be worth it.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a fat roll of currency. The Marrower and I watched him count out some bills before holding them out. “Will that cover it?”
The Marrower took the colorful stack of money and counted it out himself before stuffing it in his shirt pocket. “Betting tables are immediately on your left. Drinks are fifty a piece. Hope you brought your own drae. We’re not responsible for any ill effects if you buy it from someone inside. Hand over your phones.” He held out a dinner-plate sized palm.
“Phones?” I blurted. We were already late on our fifteen-minute check-in with Thorne.
“No video, audio, or image recording is allowed.”
“Just do it,” Cyan muttered, placing his phone in the Marrower’s outstretched palm.
I reluctantly did the same and the Marrower moved aside, sweeping his hand toward the tunnel.
“Thanks,” Cyan said, his teeth a little gritted.
I gave a nod to the Marrower and followed Cyan through. “Shit,” I said over his shoulder.
“Yeah.”
The noise at the other end became louder, funneling through the tunnel and echoing all around us. I clasped Cyan’s shoulder and squeezed in a show of support. If I wanted to be annoying I would have held his hand, but now was not the time. Tensions were high. We needed to be alert and focused.
The tunnel emptied into a room maybe ten times the size of the one the old Marrower was in. It was carved out into a rough oval shape like an egg. The walls, floor, and ceiling were still packed dirt, but high-powered lights pointed at a large hexagonal cage in the center. The cage was closed at the top, with the intersecting wires pressing into the dirt ceiling above.
Dozens, maybe close to a hundred people crowded around the cage. There were typical vampires, Marrowers, dragon shifters, brusang, and even some humans from what I could tell.
“Let’s go to the betting table.” Cyan made a sharp left while I was still reeling from the brightness of the lights.
I followed him, deciding to light up some darakt to take the edge off my nerves. There was plenty of red smoke hanging over the crowd, so I might as well blend in. Cyan was already making friends by the time I caught up to him.
“How’s it going?” He grinned at the two yellow-eyed vampires manning the table. They were already high on drae and it wasn’t even midnight. “Any chance I can see the odds for each of the fighters?”
The addicts looked at each other before glancing back at him. “What, you don’t got a favorite?”
Cyan shrugged. “I like to be strategic about winning a shitload of money.”
One of the vampires rifled through some papers before sliding over a single sheet. Cy picked up and leaned toward me as he examined it.
“There’s no names,” he muttered. “Only numbers. I wonder if they’re all prisoners.”
“I don’t even know how to interpret this,” I admitted. It all looked like a bunch of random digits to me.
“These are the fight match-ups.” Cyan pointed to the first two columns. “And these are the odds. So for example, number 7079 is favored fifty-two percent over number 9163. They’re pretty evenly matched. But number 5406 is favored eighty-nine percent over 8052. Whoever that 5406 guy is, he’s a beast. Or at least popular with the betting crowd.” He slapped the sheet down on the table and took out his wad of money. “Let me put a thousand on number 8052.”
The vampire at the table stared up at him. “Why? You like losing money?”
Cy shrugged. “I like betting on an underdog.” He placed his bet and we weaved through the crowd, making our way closer to one of the five sides of the cage.
“How many fights are there going to be?” I wondered.
“There were ten match-ups on the sheet,” Cyan said, then nodded at the fresh blood on the cage floor. “Looks like a few have already happened.”
A Marrower entered the cage with a metal bucket, which he used to throw water onto the bloodied floor. The half-hearted cleaning attempt barely did anything but spread the blood further out.
