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“Everything has a price,” Camina said coldly.
“Not this,” Augustine said. “Not everyone can handle the change. But I’ve kept records, run tests. Nothing scientific, I don’t know how to describe it exactly. I’ve sampled a great deal of specimens and developed a taste for it, the unique genes, the potential. I think I’ve found six volunteers who are willing. One of of them, if you choose, will be you.”
I saw a gleam in Trevor’s eye and knew he was already on board. Augustine really was a magician, but it wasn’t his card tricks. Tate’s candid pitch had been too crass; we would have rejected it immediately. But after Augustine’s story, his careful words… Trevor couldn’t help to be interested.
“Hold on,” Camina said, “what’s that have to do with fighting Tate? How come I don’t get to fight her?”
“Anytime, beautiful,” Tate winked at her.
“The town needs to blow off steam,” Augustine said. “The problem with entertainment, the kind we have here, is that it’s isolating. Someone could stay in their own room and be entertained without making any meaningful relationships. Before the Culling, there was an epidemic of loneliness and isolation.”
“So you want to solve it with a cage match.” Luke nodded. “Can I bet on the vamp?”
“Bread and circuses,” Augustine shrugged. “Besides, this does a few things for us. One, it’s a chance for Trevor to shift and try to stay in control, to be aware and cognizant. As a slagpaw, individual consciousness is barely there, at a base level. As a brute he’ll still be him, but at about half the intelligence. It would be good for him to see how that feels, before you send him into a real battle. You could think of this as a test in a controlled setting. A trial run, which just might save his life later.”
“And two?” I asked. He still hadn’t answered Camina’s question, and I didn’t trust Tate not to rip Trevor apart when she had the chance.
“It’s rare we’re allowed to show our full potential,” Augustine said. “And we haven’t been training for a while. We’ll bring the crowds together for a bloody display. Then we’ll ask for volunteers for Emily’s war. This stunt might be a good recruiting tool.”
“So it’s not just guys getting drunk and beating the shit out of each other?” I asked, remembering some of the fights I’d seen in in havoc.
“It’s a little like that. You think games and entertainment are just a distraction, a waste of time. They aren’t. Before you get people to risk themselves to save your world, you have to prove that the world is worth saving. You have to make them feel good, before you can mobilize them by taking those feelings away. Something to care about, before they’ll care if it’s lost. Plus, many of the vampires have never seen a brute. Fighting another elite, well that’s just like fighting any human, just really fast. And we train more than they do. But fighting one of these… this will give them a chance to study their opponent. They will volunteer, but they should know what they’re getting into, and it’s a risk. Trevor’s been through it before. He’s been there and back again. They’ll want to know it’s reversible.”
“And this is really necessary?” I pushed, holding his eyes. I sensed that Augustine would honor the terms of our deal, but also that Tate couldn’t be trusted.
“Yes. Besides, we must allow Tate her games. I’d rather have her in the spotlight, than gnawing on the cables. She wilters without the attention.”
“Is it even a fair match?” Camina asked.
“Elite are faster, and pretty durable,” Augustine said. “Brutes are stronger. Give them both a weapon, and the elite will almost always win. But unarmed, it’s more of a contest. Each can take a lot of damage. Brutes are slow, but effective for clearing blockades, for crowd control. A slagpaw is cunning and faster. Less decision-making and thought, more biting and slashing. A slagpaw and an elite, without weapons, the slagpaw might win, more often than not. Which is why most elite prefer to be armed with a sword. They’re vulnerable without one.”
“So we’ll bare-knuckle it,” Tate said, a little too eagerly. “Fight until first blood. I promise I won’t go too deep. Not the first time, anyway.”
“This is your spectacle?” Trevor asked, crossing his arms. “Public humiliation?”
“Isn’t it still dangerous?” Luke asked.
“Of course I am, sweetie,” Tate replied, baring her fangs.
“He will survive the match,” Augustine promised.
“What happens if we win?” Trevor asked.
“You won’t,” Tate said. “But the good news is, it doesn’t matter. The terms of the deal have all been worked out, this is just a cherry. Emily and Augustine are tossing us a bone to make us feel included and valuable, so we don’t fuck shit up.”
A flash of anger crossed Augustine’s expression and when he flinched, his fingernails gouged deep tears into the leather couch. I pulled Trevor to the side.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“I want to, Em. I’ve been having nightmares about those beasts, about myself. Honestly I’ve been afraid to shift, in case I lost control and hurt someone. And then after what happened in Denvato… I hate myself for not shifting earlier.”
“That wasn’t your fault—”
“But the situation could have turned out differently,” he said, his features hardening. “You heard him, one brute could turn the course of a battle. And this sounds like a half-measure, something I’ll be able to control, without going full mutid. We’ve only got one shot at this, and we’ll need every weapon we’ve got.”
“A dozen shifts,” I said. “How many have you already had? How many do you have left?”
“I was prepared to run all the way back to the citadel, remember? This can’t be worse than that.”
