I grind to a halt. “I’m not an obstacle course.”
Luca presses a kiss to my temple. “No, you’re more complicated than that.”
I want to argue, but I can’t. Not unless I want to get slapped by my own magic. “I’m going to win this fight, Luca,” I say instead.
“I know, baby.” He groans. “I’m just praying my basilisk doesn’t lose it if you take a hit.”
A pleased warmth settles over me.
Luca’s basilisk is protective and deadly. I like that a lot.
When I sense Alistair coming, the caterpillars in my stomach transform into butterflies.He thinks you’re a slut,Celine.Get over him.No matter how many times I deliver the lecture to myself, it won’t stick.
“Angel,” he whispers, his voice a molten purr that rolls over me like hot wax.
I dip my chin to acknowledge him, pleased when I manage not to shudder.
“Luca.” Alistair looks him over hungrily.
Luca rubs his thumb over my stiff shoulder, laughter in his voice as he glances between us. “Hey, Ali.”
I want to smack the smirk off his face. This isn’t funny. It’s maddening. I’m mad, dammit, and maybe a little crazed too. “Great,” I say sarcastically. “We all know each other’s names. Can we get this show on the road?”
“Certainly.” Alistair raps his knuckles on the rusty metal door of the warehouse.
Rocking on the balls of my feet, I hammer out my battle plan.
When the door swings open, I find myself face-to-face with a tree of a woman. Easily six feet tall, she’s all sharp angles, sleek muscles, and lean, barbed energy. A gnarly scar cuts through her left eyebrow, past the corner of her eye, and bisects her cheek. A claw mark, maybe? It’s hard to tell what made the scar, but the jagged, raised white line does its job: this woman radiates danger from every pore.
We study each other silently. I think I like her.
“Come in,” she says, her voice a sensual rasp.
I walk into the familiar venue and blink as the harsh fluorescent lights reveal the practical side of the supernatural fight club. Bottles clink as workers stock the bar. A handful of witches circle the pallet towers, casting stasis charms on the rickety platforms. That explains why the stacks never tip over, but I’m a little disappointed that the ramshackle vibe is more for aesthetic than anything else.
Suspended high off the ground, the cage in the middle of thewarehouse hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. A man sweeps the floor while several others test the strength of the walls by tossing bricks at them. The heavy projectiles bounce right off, the cage walls crackling with lime-green magic as they absorb the hits. When one of the bricks ricochets and smacks a sweeping worker, he curses and throws his broom, making the others laugh.
“The tryouts will begin once they finish checking the cage.”
I nod at the tall woman and survey the rest of the room. To the side of the cage, a handful of people are stretching and wrapping their hands. My eyebrows shoot up. For some reason, I thought this was a solo audition, but apparently, I’m not the only one in the running for a slot.
“Resker,” Alistair snaps. “Do you expect Celine to defeat all these fighters? That’s ridiculous.”
I grind my teeth, annoyed by his interruption. I asked him to connect me with the owners of the Mouth of Hell, not hold my hand and pick fights on my behalf. He’s over involving himself, something he promised me he wouldn’t do.
Ignoring him, Resker winks at me. “Something tells me your champion doesn’t need coddling, Alistair.”
“I don’t,” I assure her. “I want to get back in top form. While I’m not as good as I used to be, I have a lot of... training. And I’m an expert at putting on a show.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Resker shoots Alistair a smug look, then gestures for us to follow her to the ring.
“Don’t embarrass me,” I hiss at Alistair, including Luca in my glare to be safe. He hasn’t said a word, but you can’t be too careful with the two of them. We may be standing in a boring warehouse now, but fighting will shift the energy, and I don’t need any more enemies.
We follow Resker to the cage, and I mentally adapt my strategy based on the new information. If this is a last one standing competition, I’ll be at a disadvantage. Instead of toying with myopponent and illustrating my showmanship in the process, I’ll need to fight efficiently.
Resker glances at her watch and waves her hand at one of the guys testing the cage walls. He grabs a lever on the edge of the octagon and lowers a steep, narrow staircase.
“If you’re fighting for real, you’ll enter from the top trapdoor, the tunnels, or one of the spelled pathways, but for this audition, you’ll go up the boring way.” Resker winks at me, obvious interest in her eyes. I consider setting her up with Imani, then remember I’m here to crack heads, not matchmake.
