Blood Games

And since she’d been the one who’d asked me to convince Ethan to run for the position, I screamed out a few more choice phrases that ripped through every curse in my arsenal.



She only smiled politely, then pulled the door closed behind her. It was enormous and thick, overlaid with a metal plate and held in place by large brass bolts.



“She’s going to set us on fire,” I said, glancing around the room. How, exactly, was I supposed to get out of this?



* * *



I tried to reach Ethan telepathically, but he didn’t respond. Too far away, I guessed. The telepathy didn’t cover long distances.



I forced myself to breathe, to stay calm, to think. The only way I was going to ignore the panic attack was to focus on one small task at a time. The first step was to get the hell out of this chair, and out of this room.



The ropes that bound me were old-fashioned hemp, which chafed against my wrists. They were tied together, and to the chair, but the chair wasn’t fastened to the floor.



“Then that’s the first to go,” I said, shifting my weight to rock gently back, then forth, then back, then forth again, until I leaned forward enough to get my feet solidly on the ground, and the back of the chair in the air.



That put me half standing, bent over, with a chair tied to my back. I shuffled to the wall, stood perpendicular to it, and prepared to smash.



“I really hope this isn’t aspen,” I murmured, closed my eyes, rotated from my hips, and slammed the chair into the wall.



Wood shattered and splintered, and my elbow—which also made contact—sang with pain that radiated up my arm. But the chair had cracked, and I’d take the victory.



I cursed like a sailor against the pain but turned my face away and smashed one more time. I felt my bonds loosen as the chair broke into pieces. One end of the rope hung down, and I stepped on it, kept stepping on rope until I’d pulled the rest of the tangled mess to the floor.



My arms were chafed and my shoulders ached, but I’d survive. I rolled them out, tried to reach Ethan again.



Sentinel? Thank God. Where are you?



My racing heart slowed, just a little. He must have arrived at the building—and within telepathy range. In a room. I was tied to a chair but got free. The door’s bolted.



I’ve got you beat, he said, and even his psychic voice sounded stressed. I was tied to a table—Lakshmi didn’t take my dagger, thankfully—and now I’m staring down a very burly River troll.



The building shook, and I had to hope that wasn’t the result of Ethan being thrown about by his nemesis. River trolls were burly men and women who made their homes beneath the bascule bridges that crossed the Chicago River, and helped the nymphs enforce their rulings.



And in case you didn’t know, he grunted, Lakshmi torched the building.



Oh, I know. She lit the damn match in here. I’m going to punch her in that pretty little face if I survive this.



We will survive it, and we’ll both punch her in her pretty little face.



I’d gotten out of the chair, linked to Ethan. The door was my next task. I tried the obvious first—wiggling the latch, bumping a shoulder against it to test its nudge-ability, trying to pry the bar out of the hinges with a piece of the splintered chair.



That was five minutes wasted, because I was not getting through the door.



I closed my eyes, forced myself to think.



I didn’t have a better thought, but I did feel a breeze behind me. I looked back, spied a small and narrow window. I ran to it, looked outside. It was a long way down, which I could handle, but I was afraid that if I got out, I wouldn’t be able to get back in. And that put Ethan even more at risk.



I was preparing to make another run at the door when a wave of hot air flew up from the cracks in the floor.



The cracks in the floor. Could that have been more obvious? If I couldn’t get through the door, I’d go through the floor.



I grabbed the biggest remaining chunk of the chair, a hefty piece of the seat, and walked carefully around the room, looking for the bounciest boards. That award went to a spot near the middle of the room, where it looked like water had pooled and rotted the boards from the top down.



I lifted the wedge over my head, slammed it down with a giant crack that sent dust and particles of wood into the air.



One more crack, then two, and the seat burst through the boards, leaving a hole just wide enough to fit the edge of the seat. I wedged it into the hole, stood up, and pulled until boards cracked and split, then pulled up large splinters of wood until the hole was large enough for me to fit through.



I looked back, grabbed the rope, wound it around my arm just in case, then put my fingers on the edge of the hole, leaned forward until my torso was out. The room below was the same size and materials as mine, but the door was open.



Done, I thought, then levered the rest of my torso through the hole, flipping forward so I hung by my arms, and dropped to the floor.



I ran through the door, which led to an enormous room marked by white columns and stacks of dilapidated office furniture.



Ethan emerged from a room on the other end of the space, dirty and showing off an impressive shiner. He was also grinning like a maniac.



We jogged toward each other, met in the middle, embraced. He kissed me good and hard.



“It really wouldn’t have been fair for you to sit this one out,” he said, with sparkling eyes. He was in surprisingly good spirits. Maybe this really did appeal to his alpha-male mentality.



“Sure it would have, because I don’t want to be in the GP. What do you think is next?”



I needn’t have bothered to ask. Wood cracked on the other side of the room, and a giant timber split and dropped through the ceiling, crashing to the floor ten feet in front of us—and then crashing with enough force to rip through the floor. Smoke and sparks poured through the fissures above and below us.



“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Ethan said, grabbing my hand and moving toward a large bank of windows on the other side of the room.



But a shadow stepped into our path. He was large, six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an upturned nose. River troll number two.



I actually knew one troll, a man named George whom I’d met at one of the open houses my grandfather had held for the city’s supernatural communities. Unfortunately, this wasn’t George.



He walked toward us with heavy footsteps.



“Thoughts? Recommendations?” I asked, the question mooted when the troll struck out, tossing a hand that sent Ethan skittering across the ground.



My heart stopped until Ethan blinked, climbed to his feet, shook his head.



I looked back at the troll. “That was rude.” I spun and executed a flying scissor kick that would have sent a vampire flying but landed dully on the River troll’s abdomen. As I landed, he took a stiff step backward, regained his footing, then moved forward again.



This time the slap was for me. I turned my body to the side to reduce the impact, but pain still lit up my arm when he made contact, knocking me to the ground.



But he turned back toward Ethan, his apparent target.



The troll lurched forward, and this time Ethan dodged him, spinning to kick the troll in the butt and send him forward. Trolls were strong, but they weren’t especially nimble. Ethan was both, and he used it to his advantage. The troll stumbled, hit the ground, whacked his head on the corner of an old desk, but after a moment, rose to his feet again.



He glanced back, rushed Ethan again, correctly guessed that Ethan’s feint to the left had been just that. He aimed low, wrapped his arms around Ethan’s knees, sending them both to the floor with a crash.



They rolled once, then twice, sending up smoke and sparks with each revolution. Ethan crawled free, kicked back when the troll tried to grab his feet again. Ethan grabbed an office chair, nailed the troll on the back, and sent him sprawling again. His chest still bobbed, but he didn’t get up.



Ethan wiped blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, then glanced at me. “And I think, Sentinel, that will do for now.”



He’d just taken a step when a trapdoor opened beneath him, swallowing him and sending smoke and sparks billowing into the room.



“Ethan!” I screamed, dropping to the ground at the edge of the door. “Ethan, you are not allowed to die again!”



I didn’t breathe again until I felt his fingers, straining at the rim of the square gap the trapdoor had created.



He reached up and I grabbed his arm, planting my feet to try to pull him back. But his hand was slick with sweat and soot and he began to slip from my fingers. Fear lanced through me.



“Give me your other hand, Ethan. You’re slipping!”



He cursed, shifted his weight, trying to swing his body up to give me his other hand . . . when he slipped forward another inch, and then he was moving and my hand was empty.



My mouth opened in a scream, but suddenly the troll was there, reaching out, grabbing Ethan by the shirt. With a grunt and shower of wood and smoke, the troll hauled him out, tossing him onto the floor of the room. Ethan lay on his back, face streaming with blackened sweat, coughed vigorously.



He climbed to his feet, looked at the troll, extended a hand. “I appreciate that.”



The troll nodded. “You beat me fair and square. That’s all she said I had to do.”



Ethan coughed again. “Now that we’ve all fulfilled our bargains, perhaps we should leave?”



Together, the three of us carefully picked our way across the room, coughing and dodging showers of sparks that poured down from the ceiling above us, and fountains that burst through the floor every time the fire took another bite of it.



We reached the door in the room’s far corner, the EXIT sign still glowing above it, and pushed.



Nothing happened. The door didn’t budge, even an inch. Ethan rammed it with a shoulder, wincing, but tried again.



“She probably welded the damn doors shut,” Ethan said, kicking it in frustration, and with enough force to fell a shape-shifter—but not to even rattle a very inappropriately labeled door.



“I will try,” the troll said, stepping forward.



We moved aside, watching as he rammed his impressive bulk into the door once, then twice, then a third time. When blood began to speckle through his pale gray shirt, I put a hand on his arm. “Maybe let’s try a different option.”



“Window,” Ethan said, and we followed him to the perpendicular wall, which was marked by a horizontal band of windows.



Ethan dug through debris, pulled out what looked like a pipe, and smashed through the glass to allow us egress.



I looked back at the troll. “If you jump, will you be okay?”



He walked to the window, peered down. “Long way down.”



“It is.”



“I can make it,” he said, and, without hesitation, climbed onto the ledge and jumped. Ethan and I peered out, watched as he hit the ground with a thud that shook the entire building and left a crater in the ground that sent up a plume of smoke.



I stretched out the window, struggling to see anything in the darkness, and holding my breath until I saw him rise and walk away.



“He’s clear,” I said.



“Then let’s move, Sentinel. Because I believe we’re running out of time.”



I climbed onto the ledge in stiletto boots, moved to the side so Ethan could climb out, too.



I made the mistake of looking down, and vertigo wracked me. It was only the iron grip of Ethan’s fingers on my forearm that kept me from tilting forward into darkness. Vampires could jump, sure. But I didn’t think falling face-first was the same thing.



“Three . . . two . . . one,” Ethan said, and as the door burst open and flame rushed us, we took the step.



Time slowed as the ground moved slickly up to meet us, and we landed with our hands still together. My knees wobbled from the impact, but I stood straight again and, as timbers crashed to the ground around us, hauled ass to get away from the fire raging behind us.



* * *



Malik, Bennett, and Lakshmi waited twenty yards away. Relieved magic enveloped us as Malik jumped forward to embrace us both.



“Where are Nicole and Sarah?” Ethan asked.



Lakshmi kept her gaze on the warehouse, which mooted the very venomous stare I offered her. “They aren’t out yet.”



Ethan’s eyes widened, and he cast a glance at the building. The structure was enormous—eight stories of sheer brick walls, nearly as long as a football field. The roof over the end of the building where I’d been held was already falling in.



“The building won’t be standing much longer,” Ethan said.



“She’ll want to finish it herself,” Bennett insisted.



“She’ll die and won’t care if she finishes it. Besides, I’ve already won. She has nothing to lose.”



Bennett looked nervously back at the building. To save his Master’s life, or her pride? That was the question.



“If you go,” Lakshmi said, “points will be deducted, as you’ll have interfered with the test.”



“Lakshmi, respectfully, you can fuck your test. If your GP believes a vampire is worth more because he leaves his colleagues to die, then it’s even less reputable than I imagined.” Ethan looked back at me. “I’m going back for her. Stay here.”



Panic rose, hot and suffocating. “You’re not going back in there. At least, not without me.”



“I’m going,” he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.



“This isn’t the time to play Master of the House.”



He looked back at me, his expression fierce. “This is my test, and I will finish what remains of it, whether they score it or not. You will not risk your life any further than it’s already been risked tonight. If you step one foot toward that building, there’ll be hell to pay. Malik, keep an eye on her.”