CHAPTER 7 - Grace
The air felt heavy with frost tonight, a cutting arctic chill told me snow would arrive soon. Rather than enjoying the warmth of my heated cabin, I was wrapped in layers with a red knitted beanie pulled down low over my ears and headed to the field in the center of the compound. Trigger walked at my side. Apparently, Ink would meet us there. We’d been “summoned” as Trigger put it. Nobody seemed to have any idea why, but I couldn’t imagine Jebediah’s summoning would be to tell us he’d changed his mind and was leaving.
Several braids pulled my hair away from my face, before being twisted into a tight bun at the base of my neck. If for any reason I needed to fight tonight, I wanted my hair away from my face. Again I wished I were tucked back safe and sound in my cabin, maybe with Ink tucked in with me. Just the thought of him had me feeling giddy with excitement. Things had changed between us, again. This time though, I found myself a little confused about his feelings. That he actually had feelings for me had come as quite a shock, and his reasons for denying those feelings made sense. But a year’s worth of cold-shoulders, and blatant flirting with women right in front of my heartbroken self, it wasn’t going to be forgotten overnight. I wanted to forget them every time his body innocently touched mine, and I would heat from the inside out. Or, every time he smiled my way or said something sweet, my world would tilt on its axis. I wanted desperately to ignore a year’s worth of pain and embrace this new version of Ink, but somewhere deep down inside my heart, I didn’t trust him not to hurt me again.
“Skye?” I asked Trigger. I’d been asking about her a lot the last few days, but it was nearing two weeks since Jebediah took over Liberty, and we could only assume Skye had made it safely to the cave and was still there. Alone. She hated being alone. She was one of those people who could never sit quietly, she needed people and noise to make her feel safe.
When Trigger didn’t answer, I glanced his way. The few lanterns that lit the path cast a light over his strained features. He was a handsome man, but the stress of the last two weeks had aged him. His lips were drawn tight, his brow furrowed, the easy-going playfulness he exuded had waned.
“Trig?” I prompted, suddenly worried perhaps he knew something about Skye and it wasn’t good.
His gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment I saw something akin to panic within those usually mischievous orbs. He looked as though he’d been caught in his thoughts, and whatever they were they weren’t good.
“What?” he asked, sensing my concern.
“Has something happened to Skye?”
His brow dipped in confusion and suddenly the panic was masked, and he glanced away, shaking his head. “There’s no way for us to get to her,” he snapped. “Step it up, Grace. We’re meant to be there already.”
Pulling ahead of me with his long stride, I jogged to keep up. Trigger had never been short with me before, his current behavior was odd, to say the least. But these were trying times, and he and Ink were doing everything they could to keep Liberty safe and deflect Jebediah’s manic personality from the innocent people. While I wanted to slap him and tell him he was being an ass, I could also respect he was struggling with our new leadership just like everyone else.
The glow of fire danced around the field as we stepped away from the buildings. A few of Jebediah’s men lingered, some of them directing the people of Liberty to crudely made wooden seats and platforms. Bright spotlights were positioned higher on the buildings, lighting the field before us. The entire scene was surreal, and not unlike the sport stadiums of the old America that I’d read about in books. Albeit far more archaic.
“What the fuck is going on?” Trigger murmured, moving toward Fury who had signaled him over with a flick of his head. “Don’t move, Grace, think you can follow that order?”
My fist clenched, and I sent him a burning glare to his retreating back.
“What’s all this about, Grace?” Edith, the seventy-year-old seamstress asked as she stepped up alongside me. Shaking off my irritation, I gave Edith a gentle smile.
“I’m not sure, Edi, maybe a party of some sort?”
One of Jebediah’s soldiers stepped forward, a frenzied grin on his face. I recognized him immediately as the man who had raised a gun to Trigger’s head when Jebediah first infiltrated Liberty.
“You’re about to see fight night like you’ve never seen it before,” he answered. “Get movin’, find a seat,” he continued, using the butt of his gun to give Edith a shove forward.
“You don’t need to use force on her. She isn’t a threat to you,” I snarled, daring to knock the butt of his rifle away. The soldier sneered at me and stepped right into my body, but I didn’t dare take a step back, I refused to show these men fear.
“You want me to use my gun on you?”
Thrusting his hips forward I knew he wasn’t talking about the rifle in his hands. This close I got a good look at the man as he smiled at me, splitting his lips and showing me his chipped and rotting teeth. His face was pockmarked with scars, his greasy hair hanging over his eyes. He looked like a hillbilly derelict, not a soldier.
“Touch me and I will gut you,” I hissed, my fingers itching to reach for the knife in my boot.
“Smiles, stop swinging your dick and move away from the little bird!” Jebediah’s voice was cool with an icy undertone. Smiles? For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why this disgusting human had picked up the nickname, Smiles.
Smiles took a small step away, but his leering grin never left his ugly face.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting, little bird,” Jebediah snapped. He was standing on a platform raised about ten feet from the ground. Jeze stood at his back, three brawny soldiers surrounding them, rifles held in sure, sturdy hands. Glancing around, I noticed the area was heavy with Jebediah’s militia, all armed, their weapons on display as if to show their power. I wondered how many stood protecting Liberty’s walls, or if they were all here for the party. If they were all here, it meant the compound walls were unprotected, which meant anybody could walk in, or out. Right after that thought, I recalled Ink telling me the rough count of Jebediah’s militia was sixty. He would never leave the compound walls unguarded. Although there seemed to be plenty of guards watching the crowds of Liberty, there would be more standing guard on the wall.
“Hurry up, Grace,” Jebediah growled from atop his platform.
“You want some help, sweetheart?” Smiles asked me, his arm waving toward a ladder which would give me access to the platform. His gaze lingered on my breasts, which were barely visible beneath my layers. The unwanted attention made me shudder as if it had been a physical caress.
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“With pleasure.” He snickered, and I reluctantly turned my back on him, placing one foot on the bottom rung. Glancing up, a familiar face peered down at me. He had that look, one of determination, one that said ‘we got this,’ but I could see the worry behind that resolve. I was grateful that his sudden appearance had Smiles taking a few more steps away. Pulling myself up, I climbed the ladder which creaked and groaned under my weight, making me want to go straight back down again.
Reaching the top, Ink’s hand gripped under my elbow as he helped me onto the platform.
From this height, I could see over the entire field. There was seating erected directly across from us, currently filled with people. The large buildings around us sat in shadows like dark giants. Torches spread at intervals helped light up the edges of the field. People wandered about clearly confused and suspicious about what was happening. Their fear made my chest ache, but there was little I could offer them to relieve it because I had no idea what was going on.
In the middle of the brightly lit up field, a large post had been erected a short distance from our flagpole, and there appeared to be objects hanging from them both. Taking a step to one side to better see what the hell was going on, the timber under my feet groaned. Stilling, I glanced at Ink who was also watching the rickety base we were standing on. The structure seemed large enough for the seven bodies it currently occupied, but it by no means felt secure.
A heavy-set guard moved behind me to search for weapons, his clumsy hands inspecting my pockets, torso, and legs, once again missing the fact a knife was concealed inside my boot. As soon as he was finished, Ink pulled me into his body, my back to his front, one hand possessively gripping my hip. His touch made me feel safe.
Jebediah rolled his eyes while Jeze watched us closely, her standard nonchalant stare in place. “Let’s get this party started,” said Jebediah, impatience heavy in his tone. One of his men handed him a microphone and Jebediah raised it to his mouth.
I’d only ever seen pictures of the device in books, and my attention was stolen by the innocuous object. Was he going to sing? Maybe all this fuss with the seating and lights meant some sort of performance would take place.
“Thank you to all who gathered promptly when asked,” Jebediah began, casting me an irritated frown. His voice had been magnified by the microphone and sent to a black box, which I guessed was a speaker, sitting toward the front of the platform. “Tonight marks the Arena’s first fight.” A triumphant grin lit up his face as his voice rose in excitement.
My brow creased. Fight? Was this why he’d quizzed me about Kingsley Duke’s cage fighting arena?
“Gladiators!”
Resounding silence was met, but Ink’s hands tightened on my body, and a puff of air escaped his lips. I had no idea what Jebediah meant by gladiators, but from Ink’s response he did, and it wasn’t good.
“Gladiators were once the heroes of Rome, warriors who faced off in giant arenas for the entertainment of the people.”
My back stiffened, and my fists curled as Jebediah explained to us what a Gladiator was. Ink was just as tense behind me, a soft curse spilling from his lips.
“They were more than entertainment, though. They were champions of the arena.”
My disbelieving gaze slowly moved to Jebediah, who stood with one arm proudly spread wide, his pale skin shining like a bright moon in the night. The metal on his face gleamed, his straight teeth unnaturally white like the rest of him.
“The men who died in the arena departed this life with honor and integrity.” Jebediah’s arm lowered. “Those who won, though, were compensated for their efforts with prizes, like money, jewels and… women.”
My pulse was racing making me nauseous and dizzy, and after the mention of women, my frantic gaze began searching the people around me. What women? As far as I knew Jebediah hadn’t brought any.
“For this first night of battle, I present two men who are willing to fight, two men who have a prize in mind.”
Oh my God, I couldn’t believe he was doing this. I continued searching the crowd before me, now wondering who was going to fight. Another curse fell from Ink’s lips, and I soon understood why.
Robbie was strolling out from between two buildings, right into the middle of the field. He was dressed in old worn jeans that hung low on his waist, his boots, and nothing more. He was tall and lanky, only slight muscle mass developed through his abdominals and biceps after the few months of training Ink had put him through. Standing as he was now, he didn’t look like a man, more like a young boy… too young. His shoulders were pressed proudly back as he turned to face the crowd before him who kept unnervingly quiet. Another man stepped into the open field, equally as tall as Robbie, but much wider and his body thick with muscle. He was bald, his chest and arms covered in tattoos. He too wore jeans, boots and nothing else. His size and presence seemed to dwarf Robbie in comparison.
“You see, young Robbie the Rumbler here has a woman…” Jebediah paused, “… and Crazy Carl has a fondness for Robbie’s woman, and if there’s a more noble cause for a fight, I do not know of it. Ladies and gentlemen, whores and brutes, tonight… we are fighting for love!”
Carl laughed and turned to one side, winking at somebody. At this point, I was seconds away from panic. Desperately, I sought out Prudence who stood sobbing about ten feet from the fight. Her long blonde hair tied back at her nape, her heart-shaped face filled with tears. Her brother and one of Ink’s soldiers, Ethan, stood at her side, his arm protectively wrapped around her shoulder, a fury burning in his eyes which were solely focused on Carl. They were surrounded by three of Jebediah’s men, each brandishing his gun, their stoic faces directed to the field before them.
“Winner gets the girl,” Jebediah shouted.
“No!” I sharply snapped. “You can’t do that.”
“Ink, keep your woman in check. Otherwise, I might just put her down there next.”
Shaking my head, I tried to turn in Ink’s arms. To do what? I had no idea. But this had to stop. It was nothing short of barbaric. Not even Kingsley Duke’s fights were for the prize of a woman. I had to get down, first and foremost. Strong arms held me in place as I struggled to get free. I needed to get to Prudence, stopping this madness the only thing on my mind. Ink growled low in his chest, one hand coming up to wrap around my neck, his thumb pushing my chin up so he could see my eyes, his other hand wrapped around my waist trying to prevent me from leaving.
“Be calm,” Ink whispered with a hard tone. “Robbie is a good fighter, he can handle this.”
“This is cruel. We can’t allow this to happen,” I hissed back, frantic with the need to stop the fight.
“I agree, but there’s nothing we can do right now. We are unarmed and outnumbered.” Somewhere in my mind Ink’s hushed words made sense, yet the heartless terms of the fight were so unjust and absurd, I simply could not comprehend not doing something.
“There are over a hundred of our own people standing out there, Ink. We can fight back.”
“They’re innocents. They’ve never shot a gun, never thrown a punch. They’re farmers, cooks, and builders, not an army. Even if they could fight back, Jebediah’s men surround us, and they are heavily armed. We are unarmed. If we fight now, it will be a bloodbath.”
Sense slowly bled through the panic, and however wrong it felt not to fight this, there was nothing we could do.
“Are you two quite finished,” Jebediah drawled from the other side of the platform.
Ignoring him, I clutched Ink’s jacket and took a long deep breath. He was right. We were trapped and to try and fight now would be suicide.
“We got this,” I breathed, not sure if I was trying to convince myself or Ink.
Ink didn’t answer, but he did give my arms a slight squeeze. Slowly, I turned, not at all ready to face the horror playing out before me, but I would, for Robbie and Prudence. I glared at Jebediah, who merely smiled as he nibbled on his stupid lip rings.
“Boys…” His sharp shout through the microphone made me wince. Crazy Carl reluctantly dragged his taunting gaze from Robbie, watching Jebediah carefully. “You know the rules, but I will repeat them for the sake of your adoring fans. Until the first bell, you may only use your fists or your feet… or hell, your teeth. But after that bell you may select a weapon.” Jebediah pointed to the two poles in the ground.
Oh shit! I now realized what was hanging from their tops, it was knives, cleavers, and an ax. Sharp weapons, weapons for permanently disfiguring and killing. Covering my mouth, I caught my pained groan as Ink’s fingers dug into my shoulders.
“A knockout is a win. We have a medic on site to confirm a knockout, so don’t think about faking it,” Jebediah snickered. “Obviously a kill is a win, and our champion takes home the girl.”
The people of Liberty were quickly growing noisy. Their objections shouted out into the night with their angry voices filling the air.
“Feel free to voice your concerns… I have bullets ready and waiting for those of you who wish to nitpick and moan.”
With that, they quickly died down. Arrogant arched brows dropped into a satisfied smirk as Jebediah turned his attention back to the fighters.
“Gladiators, fight,” he screamed.
Crazy Carl laughed, before turning to face Robbie and charging across the ground. My entire body was strung tight, and I tried not to blink even though the smoke from the torch behind me stung my eyes. If I blinked, I might miss something, and I had a foolish notion that I could somehow prevent Robbie from being hurt by sheer will alone.
Robbie ducked under a wild swing from Carl, landing a heavy right hook into the man’s stomach. With a followed-up sweep of his foot, Carl stumbled, falling to his hands and knees. Recovering quickly, Carl jumped to his feet and threw a punch which glanced off Robbie’s arm, unable to break through his defense and reach his face. I’d seen Ink sparring with Trigger and Fury enough times to recognize Robbie’s technique as opposed to Carl’s scrappy fighting style. Lifting a knee, Carl struck Robbie in the groin, the painful moan spilling from his lips made me feel sick. With Robbie’s arms now lowered, Carl attacked, throwing punches that connected with the resounding slap of flesh on flesh. The men’s rasping grunts and groans could barely be heard over the yelling of Jebediah’s men, who were obviously all cheering for Carl.
“Suck it up, Robbie. Stand up and fight,” Ink yelled over my shoulder.
Even though I wanted to hit him for encouraging this madness, his words did seem to give Robbie a spark of life. He stood taller and threw a barrage of heavy punches at Carl, all of them connecting with either his face or stomach. Suddenly, a loud bell rang out, and my stomach rolled. Carl was first to stumble away. Turning, he ran toward one of the poles with weapons swaying from its top, leaving Robbie panting in the middle of the arena.
“Move,” Ink shouted.
Carl was already at his pole, shimmying up and reaching for something resembling a sword.
What the fuck, this was crazy!
My gaze darted to Robbie who had reached his own post and was yanking frantically to free an ax.
“That’s it, good choice,” Ink whispered.
By the time Robbie dropped to the ground with his weapon firmly in his hand, Carl was already on him, swinging his deadly weapon. I flinched as Robbie jumped back, narrowly missing the sharp edge of the blade. Using the pole as a barrier between him and his opponent, Robbie continued to move on his feet as Carl’s drew his sword back and swung. It connected with a loud thump against the wooden post.
When he went to pull his weapon away it appeared to be stuck, the blade having wedged deep into the timber. Robbie took advantage of Carl’s mishap and lunged forward, swinging his ax. Carl dived to one side, narrowly missing the sharp end. Carl was now without his weapon and ducking and weaving as Robbie swung for dear life. Reaching for the sword handle again, Carl tugged to free the blade from the wood, the muscles in his back shifting under the strength he was using. The scream that filled the night as Robbie’s ax connected with a sickening thud into Carl’s thigh was a sound that surely would raise the dead. It was filled with pain and horror, a sound that would stay with me for eternity.
With his free hand, Robbie punched Carl hard, and he immediately released his sword which was still lodged in the wooden pole. Robbie dropped his ax and hit Carl again, and again, and the man gradually backed up until stumbling with his now wounded leg. Once vulnerable on his back, Robbie kicked aiming for the head, and Carl’s body rocked with the force until it settled back in the trampled grass. Unmoving.
Robbie began to walk away and a sigh of relief escaped my lips. When he dipped down to recover his ax and moved back to Carl, I tensed.
Surely he wouldn’t kill him.
Carl was unconscious—that was a win.
Raising the ax high into the air, I couldn’t hold back the scream as Robbie slammed it down into the earth right beside Carl’s head, missing by mere inches.
Jebediah’s men who’d been shouting support were silenced, only gentle sobs broke the quiet tension in the field.
For Liberty, this place had always been one of celebration, a place where we reveled in the joy of a birth or marriage, a place where children ran and played. It was sacred for us, and now it was coated in the blood of Jebediah’s sick mind.
My entire body shook, and I felt Ink’s forehead rest on top of my head, a long breath finding its way to my neck. “He won,” I finally whispered.
“Well, shit,” Jebediah growled. “That was anticlimactic.” Turning to one of his men he shook his head in dismay. “Can you believe he got his sword stuck in a post on the first swing?”
No one answered him, though I had half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself.
“Are we done here?” Ink asked, the savage fury in his voice crystal clear.
Jebediah waved him off. Literally, his hand gesturing for us to get gone. My legs felt numb, but I moved regardless, quickly making my way to the ladder, eager to get off this rickety thing and away from this man’s madness.
“Jebediah?” I paused when I realized Ink hadn’t moved to follow me.
Jebediah turned to face Ink, exaggerated impatience clear in the frustrated breath of air that left his lips.
“This won’t be happening again. I couldn’t care less if your men want to fight, but you leave my people out of it.”
All casual pretense in Jebediah’s body disappeared, his sharp gaze narrowing. Jeze stood a little taller beside him, her hand caressing the gun holstered at her hip.
“No, no, no…” He shook his head. “Not your people, Ink. They are mine. You are mine.” Peering over Ink’s shoulder, he pointed one long pale finger at me. “And soon enough, she will be mine, too.” When I could feel Ink lunging toward Jebediah, my hand snapped out, fingers clenching in the material of his shirt which pulled taut. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I held on tight, dragging him away from the single craziest decision of his life.
“I want to go, Ink. Now!”
There was no way I could physically stop Ink from attacking Jebediah, but my words seemed to restrain him somewhat. The soldiers on top of the platform shifted restlessly, their guns raised and waiting for their leader’s order to shoot. Jebediah didn’t give that order, though. Instead, he stared at Ink whose rage-filled eyes glared right back. No words passed, but plenty was said with those heated moments.
Hate.
Vengeance.
Death.
Tugging on Ink’s shirt, I pulled him toward the ladder.
“You go first, you can break my fall if I slip,” I said, trying to break the tension.
Ink climbed over the side and began to descend, and I followed him over, my hands shaking which in turn made my grip feel precarious at best. When we reached the bottom, Ink wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, clinging to me as if I were life itself.
“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured. “Let’s go check on Robbie, and get the fuck away from all this crazy.”