CHAPTER 21
THE BRUJA HALL was not imposing from the outside. Anyone looking at its exterior would see nothing more important than a redbrick house with black trim and white shutters that were always latched.
A phrase was written in Latin beside the door. Translated, it meant, “Enter the den of the hunters.”
The door was unlocked, and Turquoise opened it, stepping forward into the main room of the Bruja hall with Ravyn and, strangely enough, Gabriel at her back. He confirmed Jaguar’s message about the deal Ravyn had made: legal freeblood status to the hunter who won today.
The floor was black marble, with Brujas motto carved into it. The light was too dim for Turquoise to read it, but she knew the words by heart: In this world, there are predators and there are prey; only the former survive.
Turquoise entered the hall knowing she didn’t want to lead these hunters.
However, she knew from experience that when a vampire involved in the trade made a deal, his word was as good as law. When Turquoise won against Ravyn today, the burgundy hunter’s blood would buy her opponent’s freedom. Then Turquoise could kill Daryl without worrying about whether Jaguar had gotten rid of Jeshickah yet. Then she could get on with her life.
As soon as they entered, Sarta approached. “Ravyn, Turquoise? Are you ready?”
Ravyn walked toward Turquoise, a graceful predator’s walk. She snapped her whip, and it cracked little more than an inch from Turquoise’s skin, then wrapped around the hunter’s throat harmlessly. “I’m ready when she is.”
Turquoise shook Ravyn’s whip from her neck and lashed out, catching the handle of the other hunter’s weapon. One quick tug before Ravyn could react, and Turquoise caught Ravyn’s whip as it jerked from the woman’s grip.
Sounding amused, Sarta simply said, “The fight is to third blood. Ravyn Aniketos and Turquoise Draka, you may begin.”
Turquoise tossed the whip back to Ravyn, who accepted it with a glare, and the duel began.
Ravyn lazily snapped her whip in Turquoise’s direction, though Turquoise had already put herself out of reach. She was testing her opponent’s reflexes.
The opponents circled each other on the cold Bruja floor, watching each other for weaknesses.
“You’re not going to win,” Ravyn said.
Meanwhile, Turquoise watched Ravyn’s arm carefully, waiting for telltale signs that the hunter was about to move. The muscles tensed.
Turquoise saw the movement before Ravyn actually attacked with the whip, and raised her own. The two leather braids twined around each other. Ravyn pulled hers away with a practiced flourish, and then attacked low.
The material of Turquoise’s pant slit, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to draw blood.
“Are you playing with me, Ravyn?” she asked. Turquoise flicked her own whip, which cut open the stomach of Ravyn’s shirt, and Ravyn jumped back a pace. The wound did not bleed, but she could have made it do so if she had wanted. Turquoise saw the unease that slid behind Ravyn’s eyes as she realized her opponent had more skill than she had suspected.
Ravyn masked the emotion. “And here I thought you had no taste for fun,” she teased. This time when her whip cracked, it fell where Turquoise’s left cheek should have been. Turquoise ducked out of the way cracking her own whip as she moved.
“You little brat!” Ravyn’s free hand went to the new cut on her weapon arm.
“First blood, Ravyn,” Turquoise said calmly, hyper-focused.
Ravyn’s whip came down hard, too fast for Turquoise to get out of the way, and landed on Turquoise’s left shoulder at the hardest part of the snap. The skin split.
“First blood, Turquoise,” Ravyn said sweetly. “I saw Daryl a day ago,” she commented. “He gave me some pointers.”
Turquoise let the barb bounce off her ears. Ravyn’s whip cracked again. Turquoise moved slightly and her opponent’s whip wrapped tightly around the handle of her own. Yanking, Turquoise pulled the other hunter off balance. Before even bothering to untangle the two weapons, she flicked her own, and it cut open the back of Ravyn’s left shoulder. Second blood.
Ravyn rotated the shoulder that had just been hit, and pulled her weapon away as she again moved back to gain distance.
“A little more practice, Turquoise, and you could be quite good at this,” she encouraged. Ravyn liked the sound of her own voice, apparently. Turquoise personally preferred a silent fight, but many hunters liked to talk; it helped them focus, and their opponents were more likely to be distracted by engaging in dialogue.
Turquoise refused to banter, and attacked again.
Her strike fell short, but she managed to evade Ravyn’s next one. There was blood running down her back from the wound on her shoulder. It wouldn’t be fatal, but Turquoise was annoyed to realize that she would have yet another scar.
Ravyn sidestepped Turquoise’s next attack. Her whip hit Turquoise’s right wrist and snapped around it, a mirror to the blow that Lord Daryl had given her years ago.
She hissed in pain, but forced herself to keep hold of the whip. Her wrist was bleeding heavily This fight would be over soon.
They were both at second blood. Whoever hit next would be the winner.
Ravyn attacked again, and Turquoise collapsed to the ground to dodge. Then, before the other hunter could react, Turquoise snapped her whip around Ravyn’s ankle and yanked as hard as she could.
Ravyn lost her balance and fell to the floor hard on her back. Before she could recover, Turquoise struck with the whip one more time, drawing a fine band of blood from Ravyn’s left cheek.
“Third blood,” Turquoise announced, rising to her feet. The movement was more painful than she would have expected.
Ravyn silently raised a hand to the mark on her cheek. “If this scars, I am going to be really angry,” she snapped as she pulled herself off the floor. “Cheap trick, Turquoise.”
“It worked.”
Sarta had come to Turquoise’s side, and started to wrap a bandage around her wrist wound to stop its bleeding.
“Congratulations, Turquoise,” she began, but Turquoise shook her off, and wrapped the bandage by herself.
“I hope Daryl snaps your neck,” Ravyn growled.
With a chuckle, Gabriel wrapped an arm around his burgundy-haired friend’s waist, pulling her away before she could attack her bleeding adversary. The vampire turned Ravyn toward himself, and licked the blood from her cheek.
Ravyn shoved him away.
Gabriel laughed again. He caught the hunter’s wrist, and again drew her toward himself. He licked the blood from her arm, and Turquoise saw Sarta shake her head in disgust. To Turquoise, Gabriel said simply, “You’re freeblood, Turquoise. Go put a knife in Daryl for me.”
Ravyn leveled her garnet eyes in Turquoise’s direction.
Turquoise tossed the whip down at the burgundy hunter’s feet. “Take the title, Ravyn. I don’t want it.” She saw the shock on Ravyn’s face, but did not bother to stay and explain her decision.
She didn’t want to be leader of Crimson.
She ducked Ravyn’s punch, and ignored the ungrateful threat, then walked out of the Bruja hall for perhaps the last time.