Crunch!

  Big-chested huddler hit the mat with a damp gasp, sending the audience into fits of snarling delight. When I began to stomp, no one stopped me.

  4

  Expecting to be arrested, I quickly went back to my room for my gear, not sure if I would go quietly. Damn this fire!

  I closed the door, bolting it… Pain shot into my stomach. It ripped upward, incredible heat flooding…

  I slammed myself to the left, stumbling in the darkness. Blood hit the floor and more heat exploded, this time in my hip. I stumbled back again, ducking instinctively, and felt the slice of a blade go over my head. Three.

  Bleeding, I Changed in the pitch black room, my sounds low, and got set as if I were on a bounty run. I'd give the trio what they came for!

  The feel of the razors from my beltwere a comfort in my hand, and I threw them with the speed born of practice. The sharp metal objects whizzed through the room as I spun around, returning pings as they sank into walls and soft, wet thuds as they tore into flesh.

  “UUhhh!”

  Refilling my hands, I aimed lower this time and heard two fleshier splatters as my weapons found marks.

  Silence…

  I waited, crouched in the dark.

  Crash! Splinter!

  The door to my room caved under the guard's insistence.

  “Halt there!”

  When the lights flooded in, I saw there were three less contestants. One of them was Emily Bush.

  5

  As soon as the guards identified me, I retrieved my weapons, jerking each razor thin, 6 inch spike free with a satisfying grunt. “Send it all to my Parents.”

  “Medic!” Realizing I was leaving a bloody trail, one of the guards shouted for assistance over the muttering people in the hallway.

  The Network doctor had no trouble with the shallow wound on my hip, but the gash in my gut was harder to repair. I held myself frozen, listening to the guards outside the door as the medic tended me.

  “Why the hell was Emily here? She wasn’t even a Changeling!”

  “Family duty. Their father was captured with a group of rebels from that train heist and executed. They’ll win their mother’s freedom if none of them survive.”

  “What?”

  “I keep forgetting you’re new. The Network has a three-for-one rule. If three family members will die for the one accused, that person gets to go free.”

  There was a brief pause where I hoped to hear an answer to what I was suddenly wondering between waves of revulsion.

  “What if one of them wins?”

  “A lot of them do. Many of the three-for-ones are trying to eliminate competition. They get the usual prize and glory, plus they gain control of their family.”

  “I’d never heard that - sounds like it makes it more fun!”

  “Yeah, the audience loves it. Last year, we had an episode with a whole family of rebel sympathizers on here. It was a hell of a rush, seeing them turn on each other. I won two hundred UDs!”

  Inside, another part of my soul began crying on behalf of people I didn’t know. What kind of enlightened world let this happen?

  I grimaced, making the white-coated healer flinch back. It didn’t. Our world wasn’t better than the one that destroyed it all. We hadn’t learned anything from the War, except to be more brutal, more self-serving.

  Pain, as the needle sank into muscle, and I concentrated on the silent images of the wall screen over the medic’s shoulder, breathing slowly in and out. The neutered males were harmless. I didn't want to hurt him.

  “Miss Pruett!”

  “Hey, Angelica!”

  The reporters arrived in a group, staying beyond the open door and out of reach in case I wasn’t in the mood to talk to them.

  “Will you withdraw now?”

  “How serious are her injuries?”

  If I didn’t fight, I'd miss my visit and it was unnecessary anyway. I healed fast, and thanks to the Change, pain was with me all the time. I wasn't totally immune to it. I just didn't care enough to react.

  I smirked harshly into the cameras. “Keep me in.”

  Silence… and then the mob outside cheered.

  More than just the Pruetts and the Network had begun to observe this episode intently. The crowds now surrounding the dome had grown to near a thousand instead of hundreds. The brutal matches were growing in popularity, something the Council had counted on, but this…

  Together for the excitement of a thrilling Pruett challenges, the Network observed the growing mob on their monitors and worried. If that many Changelings attacked the complex at once, there could be a breach. They didn’t have enough guards to protect every entrance. Half of their troops were currently escorting former heads of power to the meeting place, so that they could present their newest successor and vote. Some of those trips took weeks, and the Network was very aware of how vulnerable they were becoming.

  Outside the dome, the crowd continued to cheer… and to grow.

  6

  After the reporters and medics left, I waited in my room for the guards to arrive, to tell me I was disbarred and under arrest for attacking after a withdraw notice. I waited only a short time for an answer, but it wasn’t one I could make sense of.

  Apparently it wasn't against the new rules because the notice I got through the wall screen was one to confirm my rankings were high enough to restock my food and the medical credits I’d used.

  My mind went to the doors closing, to being locked inside these walls until all of the others were dead, and I picked up one of those inside details we Pruetts were known for spotting.

  Usually, no less than two full squads stood tensely along this entrance, and it was the same around the complex. Contestants were constantly reminded that it was to keep the dangerous rebels from getting in… except I no longer believed that lie. It was to keep the Network safe from those they ruled so ruthlessly… from the mob poised on their doorstep.

  The Network was light on guards at the complex, and there was already an army here, waiting to be led.

  7

  Because I'd survived Luck of the Draw, a braver reporter found her way to my door shortly after the ambush. This kind didn’t need a pack, only a hard face and a two-person camera crew who didn’t speak to me.

  “Miss Pruett, can you tell us what it was like to kill a celebrity?”

  I shrugged. “Blood’s the same.”

  A long pause, a choice to push on.

  “Did you honestly only come for the fights? Don't you even want a bachelor?”

  My eyes flickered pink at her tone. So much it hurts. “They're cute, who wouldn't want one? Wish they all weren't so thin, though. I worry I might break one.”

  I threw in a chuckle, and felt the interest pick up instantly. In one answer, I'd declared a problem with the protected males. Would there be a response from the public or the Network? It was the mob outside that I was hoping for.

  “So you assume you'll win?”

  The reporter knew better than to follow the tip live and un-researched, but she wanted to. I could see it in her tense grip on the microphone, and I finished the rest of her questions as politely as I could force myself to, hoping she would come back for more. I’d figured out how to use that angry Fourth Estate.

  This reporter, Dana, was dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, unlike most of the others who were constantly trying to out-do each other with the next big fad. Last year, it had been contacts that gave them glowing red orbs while they interviewed. The Network had quickly banned the contacts after one of the Changelings mistook a reporter as a contestant because of it and ripped her throat out on live waves.

  Still, I thought I could see the woman’s own attempts to start something with an artfully spiked tattoo that ran from her wrist to disappear under her tan sweater. I narrowed in on it. I’d seen something like that, hadn’t I? On a man’s arm…

  As she moved away, I heard a lowly spoken order to one of the short, bald girls on her flank

  “Get a copy of that to the Zone and be quiet about it.”

  That was where Candice and the rest of my family had headed, where I’d be going, too, after I collected a prize. Was the reporter a threat? Was she in contact with the rebels? A spy for them?

  I could see more of the tattoo as she twisted up the cord and was able to place it. One of the convicts we’d tracked down last month had sported a matching ink on his arm. That convict had been Baker, the leader of the rebels. He was the one who’d told me the drill noise was the sound of a rookie getting inked and it only surprised me a little to find a rebel sympathizer inside this complex. The stories of Network salaries being very low had always existed, and pay-offs were hard to keep track of.

  I wasn't sure yet, how far I might go into the rebel cause, but I'd had two strong faults even before the Change. I'd been nice, and I'd been protective of those weaker than me. It seemed that both of those old traits might be heard from and it wasn’t just because Candice was with the rebel males now, starting to retrain them and she needed my help. I’d seen too much, felt too much, to keep ignoring the Network’s crimes. When this was over, I would settle in and do my duty.

  8

  Upon entering the Cells this time, the bachelors already seated at the long table. With nervous looks, the Den Mothers withdrew.

  It was the same group as the first visit and I nodded to each of them, searching with such intensity that they couldn’t hide their worry. Only two of them didn't flinch when my chair scraped the floor as I sat down.

  Feeling heat in thin, shaky waves, I swung my head to find the pristine male from my last visit staring at my body again. I made my voice as inviting as I could. It was time to thin this herd, too. “You'd be mine?”

  He hesitated for only an instant, but it was enough. No, not if he had a choice.

  “Of course.”

  The meek answer displeased me, and my slight frown sent him hurrying to make up for it.

  “I'd be honored to be your mate.”

  I wanted to recoil from the incredible need, shocking me with its strength, but only shook my head. He was too tame. “Shift.”

  I surprised them again by offering a bit of comfort. “Good luck to you.”

  He stared, startled at the friendly tone. As he left, he sent a searching glance over his broad shoulder, asking one question - had he passed up a good owner?

  His replacement, a cute, young redhead, took his seat warily and I looked at those I'd mentally cut on my last visit, eyes picking them out. “Shift.”

  That left three here, eight total, remaining to pick from. I saw their relief and obvious confusion as they went, and then I was sucking air into lungs that had none.

  There had been 5 bachelors I hadn't seen yet - the redheaded replacement for pristine male, and now four more moved into the room with such a harmony that I scarcely breathed for fear of seeing it broken. So beautiful!

  Lean bodies sent to please me…

  I swallowed, closed my eyes as they sat. Breathe. Control.

  When the Mothers brought out the sweet-smelling steaks, I finally glanced up to see some of the men viewing the plates with anticipation. My guess had been right - they weren't usually fed this way. I thought of my next interview and waved a hand. "Eat.”

  The silence wasn't quite as thick as during my first visit. I felt more in control, but I desperately longed to touch them. I let my pink vision roam their perfect skin instead. One of these might be mine!

  I lingered on the last male to come out. Even compared to the others, he was impressive with those thick arms and perfectly pale skin. Long blond hair flowed in a ponytail down his back and matched the yellow outline of a neat beard I instantly wanted to feel against my fingers.

  “Are you a breeder?”

  He flushed, shaking his golden head. The color sent heat flaring into my gut without even the sound of his voice. Nice. I mentally moved him into first place.

  “I'd hear how long each of you have been here and of your life before.” I didn't say, ‘and if you do this willingly’, but it was clear to my ears.

  “We'll start on the right.”

  It took most of my hour and their hesitant answers bothered me. Since birth was the most common, but sold by their family was a close second. One had been only 9, torn from his family’s murdered bodies. Another had been stolen from a farm near an old city that he didn't remember well enough to name. A third, with a voice that cut me in half, claimed he'd been won in a card game before being sold to the Network. He'd been so young, 5, that he had no other memories. I sensed that part was a lie, but his pain had been clear enough. Enslaving men had been done for the good of all humankind. I agreed that the riots made protecting the men necessary, but was all this?

  “Can we ask you a question now?”

  Again, their voices together distracted me from the heat.

  “Yes.” What was it that they were most concerned about?

  “Have you ever snapped?”

  “No. My cousin did - the one who was here last month. When it was my turn to... Change, she taught me how to control it.”

  “And does it work well?”

  The last to come out asked me the question cautiously, knowing I'd react to his voice alone.

  I slammed my eyes shut. Definitely on the top of my list. “Yes.”

  They couldn't argue. If it wasn't true, I'd already have snapped. “Any more?”

  “Who do you battle next?”

  This was from one of the faces I'd mostly overlooked, the chin-lifter from my first visit, and I took his measure as I answered. “I never know until the match.”

  This one was between two more rippling-locked blonds, and that was what had made me pass him by, I realized. He'd been hidden by beauty. His rugged face grew torn with indecision. Almost unpleasant to look at right then, my stomach growled and I dug deeper.

  Overlooked wasn’t as widely built or as tall as the others, and the half a sneer was a deterrent I suspected he used intentionally to avoid being picked. It gave him a cruel appearance, but I wondered what he would be like with a smile or a laugh to light up his darkness. Then, he hit me with a full blast of his voice.

  “I could probably tell you.”

  Implying the matches were fixed? It was only a confirmation for me, but the sound of his voice! That tone of intimacy!

  There were surprised mutters from the others at the table and I sensed that if anyone could have heard us right now, the violet-striped male on my left wouldn't have spoken.

  “What are you doing?!”

  Purple stripe was the leader among this lot, it was clear in his reaction, and I wanted to offer my assurance, but I couldn't. Hearing them and their carefully controlled tones was an amazing agony to be battled. Their voices raised in emotion were only to be survived and I remained frozen as each word sank into my lust and spun it harder.

  “You think we should?”

  On my right, sweet, dark skin close enough to grab. Fire.

  “It's against the rules!” their leader snapped sharply.

  My grip tightened on the fork. Such anger!

  “You don't want one of the others in here do you? At least we know we’re safe with this one.”

  Overlooked had a sarcastic ring to his voice that instantly brought him up to tie with the blond for the top of my list. He was no cringing male.

  “You only know what we’ve all read in the files! Being a Pruett doesn’t mean anything!” the leader again, hissed fury pelting me with white hot gravel that stuck to my skin and burned! I'd been wrong about there being no spark in them. They were as full of rage as I was.

  “See,” Overlooked pointed out.

  There was a brief silence with their attention solely on me. I held very still...

  “Maybe.”

  “She should have snapped already!” A snort of scorn from Overlooked and a waved hand that swirled their scents - that delicious burnt chocolate - into my brain, where it began searing me alive.

  An angry shrug came from their leader “Maybe she just doesn't want us very much!”

  My head jerked up at that, flames in my solid red orbs. The fork in my grip snapped, digging into my palm…

  They all cringed back and because of it, I managed the impossible. I stayed in my seat.

  The fork clattered loudly, pieces sliding along the china. Breathing harshly, I lowered my head and concentrated on the slow drip of my blood. After a moment, the conversation, the torment, resumed.

  “None of the others we've seen have that kind of control. And we agreed she’s the one,” Overlooked insisted quietly.

  I wondered about that, but didn't ask, very aware of my last minutes with them flying by.

  “We want a new vote.”

  “You’ve seen the matches! She's brutal!”

  “It's just the Change.”

  “Exactly - a constant danger! We’d never survive the trip.”

  “It’s not dangerous to a true mate.”

  Overlooked sounded like he was familiar with it and I let my hot gaze rise to his clean-shaven face. “You know how it works?”

  He shook his dark head, beautiful gray gaze almost glowing with something I identified as hope.

  “Not really, but… I've heard that there’s a bond, that it's impossible for a mate to be hurt, even in a rage, after it forms.”

  I'd heard the same from Candice, but like the other bachelors, I wasn't sure I believed it. “Precautions should still be taken.”

  He shrugged in obedience and the movement sent that powerful scent over the table. Mmm… He was the one layered in that intoxicating scent and I was betting it was natural. He didn’t seem the type to spend time primping before a mirror. There were too many calluses on his big hands for that, too many tan lines that said unlike the others, he didn’t always stay inside the dome. That was something he had to be doing without the Network’s approval. Males were never alone outside. Because of that, I might have suspected he had a lover but he wasn’t registered.

  His eyes met mine with a deliberate gleam that there was no way to miss and my guts churned harder. He wanted me to notice him, remember him. His scent washed over me again and I found myself bringing it into my lungs like I’d been denied air for a very long time. As I smothered a groan at the flames, I snorted mentally. No problems there. I wasn’t likely to forget a smell that made me feel out of control. It wasn’t something I’d ever encountered before.