It’s a foolish threat on her part. Weak and pathetic. She’s the one that has no idea what she’s dealing with and laughter
echoes deep in my mind.
There’s one way to bring out the Morrigan. Threaten to take her man.
*
I push through the crowd, not back to my seat like I should, but toward the ring in the middle. The next fight is in full swing and it looks like a goblin of some kind is battling a man with sleek black wings. It takes me a few minutes to find who and what I’m looking for: the Shaman. He’s standing at the edge of the ring. A list of names is on the table next to him. I walk up and see Hildi’s name and pick up the paper.
“I need to get added to this list,” I shout, trying to be heard over the roaring crowd. The black winged angel swoops overhead and I hear the disturbing sound of crushed bones. I reach for the Shaman’s robe and yank.
“Hey,” I say, when he finally looks down on me. His expression is more curious than annoyed. His dark eyes take me in. Unlike Hildi, I suspect he knows exactly who I am. “I want to fight.”
“The slots are full.”
“Make room.” I point to her name. “Against her.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You want to fight the Valkyrie?”
“I do.”
The Shaman’s eyes flick to the crowd, to where I know Clinton is sitting. I don’t turn around. “Yeah, I’m here with him. He brought me here to fight. I’m ready and this bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Revenge?”
“Let’s call it a lesson in making assumptions.”
He nods and slashes his finger across the name of Hildi’s opponent, causing it to disappear. “So who is going to fight tonight? You or the Goddess?”
I pull my hoodie over my head and the charm heats at my neck. “Probably a little bit of both.”
Chapter Seven
Morgan
I’m whisked to the side, only catching a glimpse of Hildi’s hair as she goes to her own corner. The Morrigan whimpers deep in my chest, clawing at her irrational jealousy and need for bloodshed. If I didn’t know better I’d think Clinton set this entire thing up as a test. Who will win for control in a duel to the death, me or the Morrigan?
Two handlers wait for me, tugging at my hair, twisting it into a knot. “What are you doing?” I ask, slapping at their hands.
“First time in the ring?” the woman asks. She has a gold tooth and a glitter swirled over her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You’ll want your hair back. Close. Otherwise she’ll rip it right off.”
“I thought the ring was enchanted?”
She smiles, the cap glinting back. “You won’t die in there but you can still come out snatched bald.”
I touch my curls and nod, giving her permission to fasten it close.
The other handler checks my shoes, running his hands over the edge. “Looking for something?”
“Blades. Spikes. You can’t have weapons in the ring.”
“But what about the others? The snakes. Diamond Dave had those blades on his hands…”
“Magical,” he says. “Those are part of him. Just you and your abilities go in the ring. Nothing else.”