“Unicorn pig,” Luca grunts. “Sounds dumb, but those tusks are no joke.”
Malach laughs as Tusker shifts into a hog the size of a small car and does a victory lap. The cage rattles noisily as he circles the fallen witch. The crowd goes wild.
“If they start oinking for him, I’m out!” I yell to make myself heard over the raucous cheers, stiffening when Alistair appears at my side.
“Wait until you hear what they chant for Celine,” he says.
“Funny.” I slant a glance at Luca, then address Alistair. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Luca chews on his lip ring and avoids eye contact with both of us. The shady fucker insinuated Alistair would be out of town tonight. Is he trying to Parent Trap us? If so, it won’t work. Alistair took things too far when he involved Sheena, and I can’t let it go.
“I never miss her fights,” Alistair says simply. “You look tired, Casanell.”
“And you look tan,” I drawl. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Malach bends to whisper in Luca’s ear, his rumbly accent carrying easily over the crowd. “Do either of them ever say what they mean?”
Luca grins and raises his voice to a obnoxious level. “I think it’s their version of foreplay, but I’m too scared to ask.”
Malach nods as if that makes perfect sense, and I roll my eyes. How cozy of them to share a joke together at our expense. I wait for Alistair to lose his shit, but he pretends he can’t hear them and focuses on the cage.
The lights shift—red at the base of the ring, orange in the middle, and blinking neon yellow at the top. Fire for my hot wings. It’s clever.
A sense of anticipation settles over the crowd, and someone starts a chant. It spreads fast until the entire warehouse is screaming, “Make me sin,” at top volume. Luca shakes his head, a muscle in Alistair’s jaw ticks, and I throw my head back and laugh.
“That’s perfect for her,” I shout.
“But inaccurate,” Malach says, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Sin is a foolish human construct.” Clearly, he’s been brushing up on the human lore about angels...
“Demon propaganda is annoying, too,” I say. “Do I look like I have horns and a tail?” Malach examines me, then shakes his head earnestly.
“Here she comes!” Luca points to a glowing red circle at the top of the cage. I squint, and my mouth falls open as Celine drops into the ring, her wings engulfed in flames. Probably thinking about Alistair...
Lips painted red, Celine’s makeup is sharp enough to cut. I groan as I notice the scraps of leather she’s wearing. They fit her like a second skin, showing off miles of muscles and curves. She’s upgraded her fighting attire since the last time I was here, and I am super into it.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one.
“Gods, I would fuck that smug look right off her face.” The guy behind us chuckles and drunkenly elbows his buddy. “She’d tap out before I even got started.”
Alistair stiffens at my side, but I’ve already latched onto the loser’s mind, draping my magic over every inch of his consciousness. His lesson will be quick and memorable.
I change nothing about his surroundings except for the cage—which I detach from the ceiling and move to hover directly over him before dropping it.
He falls to the dirty concrete floor, covering his face with his hands and twitching as he screams. People stare. Someone yells at him to shut up or get out. Drunk and dumb, he doesn’t deserve my best work, but terror I can give him.
I layer in the crack of splintering wood, a blanket of crushing darkness, and a spray of green sparks to simulate failing enchantments. He’s now experiencing an accurate simulation of what might happen if the witch magic protecting the cage really failed.
Finally, to give him the full experience of being crushed to death, I add a few bone-snapping sounds. And since a true artist never forgets practical effects, I shove my foot back and kick him in the face.That should do it.
A gentle, calloused touch on my face brings me out of the haze between nightmare and reality. I blink rapidly as Luca dropshis fingers from my cheek and grins. I may not have horns or a tail, but the angles of my face do sharpen when I use my magic.
Most people don’t get the chance to notice.
The asshole’s friends drag him away, and we watch along with the rest of the nearby spectators. He’s still raving like a lunatic when I feel Celine’s eyes on me.
I meet her gaze, then shudder. Because she’s looking at me like she did in the bathroom, except this time there are no tears staining her face. For a second, everything slows down, and we’re the only two people who exist.
Eventually, Celine breaks away, pivoting to hype up the crowd on the other side of the ring. I feel the absence of her attention as if someone stole my coat on the coldest day of the year.
