The roar of the crowd pulsed against my eardrums. I tapped my fingers on the metal tabletop as I watched the stage in the middle of the large stone building. This wasn’t exactly how I would have preferred to spend my night, but what could one do when one was trying to assassinate one of the major power players in this city?
“And now,” a male voice echoed over the noise of the crowd, “I have a real fun surprise for you. On the right, a face who should be familiar to you by now.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Jens Carlsen!”
A cheer rose as the people packed around the other metal tables throughout the room clapped their hands and whistled. I blinked at the blond man who strode out from the door at the back and made his way up onto the raised stage.
It was the guy who had placed a sword across my throat when Johnson and the others had attacked us outside the bakery.
“And his opponent tonight,” the announcer continued, “is none other than the infamous Callan Blackwell!”
Infamous. I rolled my eyes. That was sure to inflate Callan’s ego enough that he’d have trouble getting through the door.
But the crowd went wild, roaring in excitement and anticipation, as Callan prowled up to the stage as well.
Leaning back in my seat, I crossed my arms and surveyed the underground fight club that our instructions had taken us to. Well, this should be interesting.
On the stage, Callan and Jens squared up against one another. Both of them were only wearing pants and shoes, leaving their muscular chests and arms on full display.
I raked my gaze over Callan’s half-naked body. Damn, he really was hot.
My eyes drifted to Jens. Unfortunately, based on his body and the way he moved, it looked like he was a practiced fighter too.
Worry flitted through my chest. This whole building was warded to block magic, just like Essington’s mansion back in Eldar, so the fights here were purely about physical strength and technique. As I watched Callan get into a fighting stance, I couldn’t help but wonder how good he really was without his force magic to back him up.
A bell dinged.
My question was quickly answered when Callan and Jens began their battle. I watched with raised eyebrows as Callan expertly struck and kicked and blocked and dodged. Did he train regularly in hand-to-hand combat too? Based on the way he fought, it sure looked like it.
During the five years that we had known each other, I had mostly only seen him fight using his magic. The few times that I had seen him rely a bit more on physical battle skills, they had been directed at me. And since I was somewhat busy trying not to die, I hadn’t been able to study his fighting skills when they were separate from his magic in this way before. But now I could.
And by all hell, Callan was good.
Jens was skilled too, there was no doubt about that, but it looked as though he was getting increasingly angry, which was also making his moves sloppy. Since Callan’s mouth was moving, I assumed that he was taunting him.
I scanned the rest of the room again.
My heart lurched.
Across the packed space, squeezed together around one of the larger metal tables, were Johnson, Kane, and the rest of his friends. They were all watching the fight intently, so I didn’t think that they had spotted me. But the fact that the whole group was here at all meant that they were stepping up their efforts to kill Callan. We would have to be careful tonight.
In here, there might be guards who prevented unauthorized fights among the gathered crowd. But the moment we stepped back out onto the street, they could attack us. We needed to leave before them, so that they couldn’t set up an ambush. But first, we needed to finish our mission.
The fight on the stage ended with Callan landing a well-aimed fist straight in his opponent’s solar plexus. Jens rocked back and collapsed on the ground, his body convulsing. Though still very much alive. Regrettably.
Howls and cheers that almost shattered my eardrums echoed between the bare stone walls. I massaged my brows while the announcer called out Callan’s victory.
Two people walked onto the stage and picked Jens up while Callan made his way back into the changing room. They carried the unconscious young man into the same room while calls rose for the next pair of fighters. Johnson and the other people who had no doubt come to see Jens beat Callan into oblivion cast worried looks towards the changing room, but no one except fighters were allowed in there so they remained in their seats.
I kept one eye on them while the male announcer summoned two other men to the stage.
The next fight had just begun when Callan slipped out the door and made his way around the stage and towards me. He had probably seen Johnson’s table earlier, because he took the other way around so that they wouldn’t spot him. The rest of the crowd paid him no mind either. Their attention was fully focused on the battle up on the stage that had begun taking a very interesting turn.
Relief washed over me.
If we had been unlucky, we might have had to wait several fights for something to happen.
“How are your ribs?” I asked as Callan sidled up next to me.
“Fine. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Because I saw Jens getting in a serious hit there.”
Callan snorted. “As if.”
I poked at the spot the punch had landed, and Callan winced. Raising my eyebrows, I stared up at him expectantly. He just muttered something about infuriating poison mages with far too sharp eyes while he gently pushed my hand away from his ribs.
“Looks like it’s starting,” he said, and nodded towards the stage.
I grinned as I turned my attention to the two fighters who had begun behaving very strangely. “Indeed.”
Confusion rippled through the crowd as the muscular men stopped trying to pummel each other and instead leaped around and twirled and laughed as if they had gone mad. Or been drugged.
“They’ve been drugged!” someone called from the crowd. “Look! They must’ve gotten exposed to dreamcore.”
Calls of outrage rose.
“What the hell!”
“This is unacceptable!”
“What the fuck is going on with the King of Metal?” Callan called, altering his voice and hiding his mouth behind his hand. “First the gambling dens and then the blackmails in the cabaret and now he can’t even keep drugs out of his fight clubs?”
For a few seconds, everyone went still. As if they couldn’t believe that someone had dared to say something so dangerous. Then a shout of agreement split the silence. More followed.
Callan jerked his chin towards the main exit. “Well then, shall we?”
After casting a glance towards Johnson and the others to make sure that they were still waiting for Jens, I hopped off the high chair and followed Callan as we began weaving through the now agitated crowd.
This was why we had come.
The note from David had instructed us to go to this fight club and drug some of the fighters. Since the only way to get access to the changing room was to sign up as a contender, Callan had had to do just that. And given the fact that the two guys on the stage were now prancing around like a pair of ponies, I assumed that he had been successful in slipping the dreamcore we had bought into the water provided for the fighters.
We couldn’t leave until we had called out that it was Levi’s fault, which was why we had to stay even after Callan was done. If we had been unlucky, we might have had to wait several fights before someone appeared who had actually drunk from the water in the changing room. But fortune seemed to have smiled on us for once, since the very first pair must have drunk from the jug before going out to fight.
Night air smelling of food and perfume washed in to replace the scent of metal and sweat that hung inside the stone building when Callan pushed open the door. I cast one last glance behind me, to make sure that Johnson and the others remained in their seats. They did. Good. I was exhausted after herding a drugged Callan around the park earlier this afternoon and I was in no mood to deal with yet another ambush.
Turning my head back, I followed Callan across the threshold and stepped back into the night.
And right into a cloud of smoke.
