Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

“I miss her so much,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. The words sounded strained.

I looked up at him and recognized the twist of guilt on his face. “You’re not responsible for what happened to her, Navan,” I said softly. “It hurts, and it will always hurt, but you can’t hold yourself accountable. This is on your father, not you.”

“I just wish she was here instead of me.” He heaved a sigh, swiping roughly at his eyes. “She’d have loved you.” A small smile crept onto his lips then, and I sensed the worst of it had passed. I couldn’t begin to understand the loss he felt, but I wanted to be there to help him through it.

“I’m sure I’d have loved her too,” I replied, knowing it to be true. This girl looked like she had been a firecracker, sputtered out long before her time. The silence of the hologram was frustrating—I would have loved to have heard her voice, just once.

“I’ve got one more place to take you to,” Navan said finally, taking my hand and drawing away from Naya’s grave, though his eyes lingered on the hologram of her face. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but I feel you ought to see it.”

Around us, the light had dimmed considerably, and the cold sun was making its descent behind the mountains, ushering in the bitter Vysanthean night. Navan had warned me that the days were short on this planet, and when night did come, not even the fur coat would protect me from the freezing temperatures. Coldbloods could endure it, but humans could not.

With so little time before sunset, I could only wonder where he was taking me.





Chapter Twenty-One





With the sun setting in the distance and the ghostly sphere of a moon rising behind the mountains, the Snapper soared across the towns and villages that glowed below. Eventually, all signs of civilization faded away, leaving a vast expanse of barren wasteland, the glint of ice and frost showing on the surface, making it shine like a mirror.

Up ahead, a few dim lights appeared. A makeshift town rested in the shadow of a hillside, a glittering lake beside it, the water dark. Navan set the Snapper down, pulling me to him as we exited the vessel, heading in the direction of the ramshackle town. There was a high wall around it, with metal spikes pointing upward, but the guard on the door—a gruff, scarred brute—simply nodded to Navan as we passed.

“Nice to see you back, man,” he grunted.

Navan nodded. “We won’t be long.”

Inside, there were leaning stalls selling vials, as well as structures with people inside calling out names and numbers at the tops of their voices. Coldbloods crowded around these particular stalls, brandishing what looked like money in their direction. I’d seen enough derbies to know they were gambling.

Navan didn’t say a word until we reached the edge of a large pit. Coldbloods surrounded the perimeter, their eyes focused on what was going on below. I glanced over the muddy lip, and the sight shocked me.

In the gaping hole were several small arenas. Inside, bare-chested coldbloods lunged at one another, some bare-knuckled, some wielding weapons, some fighting off huge beasts with dripping jaws. The scent of blood and fear rose up, stinging my nostrils. Whenever one of the warring coldbloods landed an exceptionally nasty blow, a roar of excitement went up from the surrounding crowds. I stared at one arena in particular as a toned female coldblood in light leather armor swiped a scythe at her opponent, knocking his head clean off his shoulders. My hands flew to my face.

I turned to Navan, horrified. “What is this place?”

“These are the fighting pits,” he replied solemnly, his eyes on the battles.

“Wh-Why have you brought me here?” I gasped, as a different coldblood lost his arm to the slash of an enormous broadsword.

“I was a champion here, before I joined the Explorer’s Guild,” he said, distracted. “I needed to get the pain out… and this was the only place I could do that.”

“You fought here?” I whispered, watching two coldbloods circle each other, their knuckles drawn up to their tattooed faces.

He nodded slowly. “When Naya died, the guilt was unbearable. I felt like I should have done more to stop it… to stop my father. So I fought to ease the pain.”

I pictured him in the pits, brandishing one of those deadly weapons, taking the life of a fellow coldblood. I saw his anguished face, the guilt weighing him down as he lashed out to rid himself of the ghosts that haunted him. Had it not been for Jean and Roger, I wondered if I’d have ended up on a similar path of destruction. Maybe not fighting, but definitely something bad. It ran in my blood, after all.

“Did you kill anyone?” I asked.

He grimaced. “No, not here,” he said softly. “To be honest, I came here because… well, I thought I’d lose.”

I stared at him, letting the words sink in. He’d done more than come here to ease the pain. He’d basically come here to commit suicide.

His grimace deepened at my alarmed expression. “I know,” he said. “I’m not proud of what I did. It was the darkest period of my life… a period I’m determined to never return to. Nobody had trained me, so I was as good as dead, but by some miracle I won, and the crowds cheered my name, baying for the blood of the loser. I couldn’t do it, but the voice that wouldn’t shut up had gone. I fought a few more times, never killing my opponent, until the management asked me not to come back—I was bad for business.” He smiled wryly.

“Is that how you got those scars?” I asked, thinking about the lines that crossed his chest, back, and, partially, his neck and jawline.

He nodded. “I figured you must have wondered about them but were too polite to ask… They remind me of my penance. I would have gone mad without them.”

“You didn’t kill Naya,” I reminded him gently.

“I may as well have,” he replied miserably.

The night was setting in, and the bitter cold penetrated the warmth of the fur coat bundled around me. My teeth had begun to chatter; my fingertips had gone numb. Seeing my discomfort, Navan put his arm around me and shepherded me back to the waiting Snapper.

“You’re missed in the pits,” the brutish guard commented as we left. “Never seen anyone fight like that.”

Navan flashed him a look. “Well, I won’t be coming back anytime soon,” he said. “Have a good night, Joden.”

The guard nodded. “And you, boss.”

The warmth inside the Snapper welcomed me like a longed-for hug, and I hurried to my seat in the cockpit, drawing the coat closer to my body. Despite the horror of the fighting pits, I was excited to see where Navan would take me next. A sliver of dusky sunlight still glanced over the hillside—there was still time.

“Where to now?”

Navan smiled. “Home.”