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The Boss nodded, not looking the slightest bit concerned. Cetus wondered what he was. If he had to guess, he’d think it was something that made even orcas turn and run.
The Boss lifted his arm and pointed. “Your contract’s on the table. Sign it, and see you at three on the day of the Saturnalia. Don’t be late.”
Cetus’s hand shook, so his signature wasn’t particularly legible, but he doubted that mattered. He stabbed his finger at the SUBMIT button.
His own tablet chimed, a moment later.
“That’ll be your copy, for your records. That will be all.”
Cetus stumbled across to the elevator, hardly daring to breathe until the doors had closed behind him.
It was only when the doors opened again at ground level, spilling him out into the crowd of hopeful applicants wanting to fight in the Arena, that realisation dawned.
He fumbled his tablet out of his pocket, skimming the contract until he got to the section on remuneration. Then he swore.
With this one order, he’d make more profit than in the entire previous year he’d been in business. And if they liked his cakes at the Saturnalia, there’d be more orders to follow.
Cetus swallowed. He owed Orel big time for this.
Chapter Six
“Are you the shark shifter?”
Cetus looked up, recognising Patroclus. “Yes. I just need to get these cakes into a coolroom…”
“No time. Catering will take care of them. Come with me.”
Patroclus led him along a maze of access passageways Cetus knew the public never saw, down into the bowels of the building, to a plascrete room where the floor ended in a moon pool.
“Now, strip off, and get into the pool. When the lights go white, that’s your cue to join the battle, so you might want to shift sooner rather than later. Boss’s orders are that everyone who falls in the water gets one bite, and one bite only. The rest of the time, spend as much time as possible close to the surface, with your dorsal fin above the water. He wants the crowd to see you, and he wants them to see blood in the water. So one bite, whatever you can reach first, and then you let them get away. Got that?”
Cetus shook his head. “I’m a baker, not a fighter. I make cakes.”
“Nobody’s asking you to fight. Just bite. You are a shark, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
“Just bite anyone that falls into the water, as fast as you can, if you want to get paid. You signed the contract, and you do not want to upset the Boss. You’ve got it easy. All you have to do is swim and bite people. Me, I have to fight a pack of raptors. The reptilian variety, not the avian ones. But that’s the job. You do everything the Boss says, and you get paid. You mess up, you won’t see a single…and you’ll never work in the Arena again.”
Cetus gulped. Maybe he should have read the contract more carefully. It had been a lot more money than he’d expected. Now he knew why.
“White light, you swim out into the Arena. Swim, bite, swim, until you hear the bell ring to signify the end of the battle. Then swim back in here, shift back, and you can come join everyone else at the Saturnalia banquet afterwards. I hope you brought plenty of cake, because those are good.” For a big man, Patroclus sure moved fast. One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone, leaving Cetus alone with an ocean of misgivings.
He knew this was a bad idea. But he also know he had no choice.
Chapter Seven
A wall screen came to life on the wall, showing Cetus what awaited him. The camera moved through the crowd, capturing the cheering spectators and turning their expressions into silent screams as the commentator boomed over them, “And tonight, we have a special challenge for our fighters…the Shark Tank!”
The darkened stadium lit from below, turning the moat that ringed the fighting arena into an eerie red hell. All lights, Cetus knew, but it would help hide the blood if anyone fell in while injured. Then the lights turned white, and he gulped. Show time.
He’d already stripped out of his clothes, but the water was icy against his skin. Not for long, he promised himself, as he started to shift. Pleasant coolness surrounded him, as he ducked his head under for the first breath through his gills. Ambrosia, as always. Stars, but he’d missed this.
He flicked his tail, circling the small pool, before he heard the grinding of the doors opening. The announcer boomed something else, but Cetus didn’t care what. He knew they were announcing him. He glided out the gates, weaving his way along the moat, feeling his fin slice the surface before diving deep, to where his belly almost scraped against the sand. Millions of years of instinct had him tasting the water, feeling for prey he could attack from below, though he knew he didn’t have to. There was enough food on the buffet to feed an army, the Arena fighters, and him. He’d made sure of that.
A million years of instinct couldn’t overrule his desire for chocolate cake, and he’d kept two venom-laced ones aside for himself – a treat for after the swim – tucked into one of the cooler boxes beneath the rest of the cakes. If his perfect business partner was here, he’d definitely find them tonight.
A splash as something fell, or was tossed into the water.
