Raoul Menari, standing near Justin, drew in his breath as Eugene quickly wiped at the large, bloody gash on his face, inadvertently smearing more dark blood across his skin. He sweated and breathed heavily now, clearly in the throes of physical exertion. Mae showed less distress, but it was obvious from her expression and posture that every ounce of her being was wrapped up in this fight. That glittering dark aura continued to intensify, and as it did, he saw the change in her. Her expression grew harder, her moves faster, her strikes stronger.
They paced around the ring again, with Mae now feinting, drawing him out so that he would lock up into defensive maneuvers that never followed through. His effort to keep up grew while hers stayed the same. Justin tried to gauge Eugene’s glamour but couldn’t see it anymore.
Because his goddess left, said Magnus. She recognizes a losing match, and she isn’t that well established yet.
Who? demanded Justin. The ravens didn’t answer, keeping to their policy of caution with gods’ names.
Finally, growing frustrated, Eugene rushed forward, again attempting a full-body assault. Mae met him. She avoided his attack and inflicted far more devastating damage on him. Her two knives slashed across his chest, cutting deeply through both skin and fabric. Justin heard the other man cry out, and with another swift kick, she knocked the knife from Eugene’s right hand. It flew off to the far side of the ring behind him, too far out of reach for him to easily retrieve it without exposing himself further to her.
Tired and bleeding, he switched his remaining knife to his right hand, just as Mae came at him in full force. Maybe no one else could see that dark fire, but judging by some of the faces around Justin, it was obvious that the power with which she moved wasn’t natural. Kicking and hitting, she knocked Eugene to the ground and this time, he couldn’t overcome her. Fear was written all over Eugene’s face as he looked up into Mae’s. Her expression was terrifying, filled with bloodlust and exultation. It was Mae’s face and yet not Mae’s face.
In a movie, perhaps, Mae would have spared Eugene in this moment of triumph. She would have looked up at Raoul, blade poised above his son, and made some dramatic speech about how she wasn’t going to stoop to their level, how killing wasn’t the way. Justin knew that ending wasn’t going to happen today. She was going to kill Eugene. She wanted to. Justin could see the desire in her eyes. She wrested Eugene’s other knife away from him and brought her own knife down to his throat, apparently in preparation to slit it. She froze at the last possible moment as a shrill, piercing sound suddenly tore through the crowded warehouse.
The crowd’s screaming and chanting faltered, and all turned to the sound of the noise. Mae remained paused in her killing stroke, but when Eugene attempted to use the opportunity to move, she slammed his head back against the ring’s floor and pinned her blade to the exposed vein on his throat. He didn’t move again, and she peered around, a snarl on her face, as she sought out the interruption.
Following everyone else’s gaze, Justin looked toward an aisle between the bleachers that led from the front door right to where Justin stood with Raoul Menari. The noise had apparently come from an ego gripped by a bland-faced plebeian man Justin had never seen before. Raoul, trembling with fury, took two steps forward down the aisle.
“What is the meaning—”
A woman suddenly stepped out beside the man. Raoul paled as he saw her, and several others in the crowd gasped. Justin, meanwhile, wasn’t sure if he should welcome or fear this new development. She was older than Justin—early forties, if he remembered correctly—but still possessed a hard-edged beauty that struck him deeply. The high, square cheekbones of her Korean grandmother distinguished her plebeian features, and she wore her dark hair in a chin-length, asymmetrical cut. She strode forward, as others parted, and finally came to a stop in front of Justin, resting her hands on her narrow hips.
“It really is you,” she said in a low, throaty voice. “I thought it was a joke.”
“Hello, Callista.” He did his best to put on his game face and act like he wasn’t in a bloody makeshift arena. “I wish this was a joke, believe me.”
Her lips quirked into a smile, and she gave him a long, languid once-over. “Untie him before Internal Security finds out you idiots abducted one of their employees,” she snapped. Raoul pushed forward.
“No! We demand vengeance for Nadia!”
Callista fixed him with a hard look. “Raoul, I’m very sorry for your loss, but what happened to Nadia was Amarantha’s will. Rest assured, there’s a purpose for her absence. Surely you aren’t questioning the goddess?”