Prologue487 AW
“Come here, boy!”
Jason, covered in blood and shock, cringed against the wall as the changeling stomped toward him. In the bloody straw behind her, the boy’s father rose. Scarlet drops ran down his body like rain.
“Run!” William shouted, lunging at the woman.
Rankin, still in the throes of lust, rotated from the child to meet the father’s attack. Unlike their earlier battle, William didn’t restrain himself this time. He fought like a woman.
Jason was horrified as his last surviving family member struggled with the changeling who had come to buy him for the Network.
“Run!” William shouted again, using his weight to gain an advantage. He pinned the snarling, kicking, swiping demon to the wall of the barn, hands coming up to her throat.
Rankin felt the danger to her life and flipped into the uncontrollable animal that always lurked inside. She ripped his throat out with her claws.
“No!” Little Jason ran forward, slamming his fists into the woman’s hip.
Rankin kicked, catching the child in the stomach. He flew backwards, hitting his neck on the doorframe. He dropped heavily.
In the courtyard and on the porch, Rankin’s crew gaped in disbelief at the carnage.
“We’ll all go down for this,” one of them stated, inspecting the child. He wasn’t moving.
“We could report her, but I doubt it would matter.”
“So long as we don’t get sacrificed, I can stick to whatever story she tells. I suggest you do the same,” Lena, second in command, informed them coldly. “His chest is moving. Get a medical transport ready.”
“He’ll ride with me,” Rankin ordered, coming to the door. She scowled at her crew. She would get rid of these witnesses as soon as she could.
Rankin picked up the boy who resembled his father, her obsession. She headed for the horses they’d tied to the porch upon arrival. “Burn it.”
“What do we put on the report?” her XO asked evenly.
Rankin handed the limp body to a lower member while she mounted her horse. “We found a survivor of a fire and brought him in to the comfort and safety of the Network.”
After a fast glimpse around to verify there were no neighbors to have witnessed the savage attack that had left three citizens and a slave dead, the crew agreed. It would be easier to say little, than to try to invent a story to cover this mess.
Rankin cradled the boy in her bloody arms, mourning his father. She’d wanted William, but his son would do. Jason would belong to the Network legally, but Rankin’s promotion to top defender was coming next year and then he and every other slave in the complex would be at her fingertips. She planned to train her harem accordingly. Over time, one of them would become enough like William that she could finally have peace. She planned to concentrate her efforts on his son.
Chapter One
A Change in the Wind
1
“Welcome to the Network complex. Please place your hand on the scanner.”
“Is it her?”
“Is she the one? She walks like them.”
“Processing...”
“This part takes so long!”
The other three bachelors glared at the fourth for being too loud. If not for the hall of waiting changelings and all their noises, the sound might have carried. The bachelors were out of their cell without permission, watching players sign in for the games.
A fifth rebel bachelor ignored them all, listening for the computer response. The short, stocky woman signing in right now was a Pruett. Jason knew it, but he still needed it confirmed. Sneaking down here had been his idea.
“Welcome to New Network City, Angelica Pruett,” the computer sounded off cheerfully. “Please place your ID card into the slot and choose your game.”
“It is her!”
“Even the other beasts are scared of her. Look how they’re staying away. She’s too dangerous. Pick someone else.”
Again, Jason ignored his fellow captives to study Angelica. The Network was cracking down. They would have one chance to get this right, but Jason had other things hanging over him. To pin his hopes on this lethal changeling, he had to be positive she was like her cousin. He needed her to be honorable.
“Confirm your choice...”
Angelica pushed the button and spun around, mirroring her cousin’s gloating sneer.
The women waiting around her frowned or subtly put space between them, but it didn’t frighten Jason. Unlike the other bachelors, he wasn’t searching for someone to love him.
“Please report to the main stage by 5:30. Those not signed in will be disbarred from this episode and fined. Remember, no battling until the official start at sunrise.”
There was a short pause, and then another airy chime echoed as the gates at four of the five arched gateways slid to the side. From what Jason knew, the far left entry never opened to the public. It led here, to an employee entrance that was usually deserted unless the changelings crammed into the reception hall snapped. Jason and the other prizes had studied the last matches for months now, waiting and hoping for the right changelings to come through. Candice had been the perfect candidate, but she’d been so violent the other bachelors had refused to try gaining her attention. When Daniel had been chosen, they’d realized too late that she was honorable. She’d refused to consider anyone else by then. This time, Jason was getting out, no matter what it took.
Casting wary glances at each other, the fighters began to exit the wide-pillared reception hall, but Angelica waited, letting the rounded antechamber empty. It would have been safer to travel the corridors in the pack where the guards would be the thickest, but Jason sensed she was waiting for stragglers. Her need to know all of her challengers was a comfort to the secret rebel. To help him, she definitely had to be careful. So did he.
Jason scanned the empty room he and the others were spying from, confirming their safety. He didn’t like some of the slaves here in the complex, but he loved them all because they went through hell together. Their illegal book and magazine collection held stories of men in the past who’d fought together and been as bonded as family. Jason believed captives also felt that. A fight for survival, no matter the enemy, was powerful.
“Hey, isn’t that the Bush sisters?” one of the males whispered. The hall was mostly empty now and sounds would carry easier.
Jason inspected the family in disgust. The trio had once been powerful in their wealth, but they were the kind who wore a pair of quartz gravity boots once and threw them out instead of donating. They were the kind who flocked to food shelters to dole out holiday meals, but threw orphan girls off their stoops the rest of the year. They were the kind who would do anything, pay anything, to get what they wanted.
Jason almost knew the last female to select the Bachelor Battles. Chelsea Bush’s father had been held here for a few days after he’d caught aiding a group of rebels who missed the train ambush. After a search of their massive home, the family had been charged with ten violations of gravest laws. The sentence for their mother, the legal ruler of their household, had been death. The father had been sold to Rankin.
The sisters were outcasts now, poverty stricken from the heavy fines. They’d probably been sent to regain favor and refill their credits. It was a final deal for the families and a lucrative scheme for their rulers, who would use the famous sacrifices to keep the games popular. There had been a few calls coming from foreign elements brought in for the shows to have the violent programs outlawed and a more fair system of male distribution created. Few citizens were listening to the protestors, and the protestors didn’t stay alive long, so Jason hadn’t thought the Network was feeling pressured enough to do something so drastic to secure the future of their shows.
Angelica stayed in the wide hall until every contestant had checked in, and the main doors slammed shut, locking. No one would come in or out until of this section of the complex until the episode was over.
She paused at the archway, turning back. Her stare seemed to penetrate the walls, making the AWOL bachelors freeze in near panic.
Angelica squinted as though she knew someone was there. Maybe she did.
The prizes fled their spy room, except Jason. He lingered even after Angelica strode down the photo-lined corridor to enter the first hall of player flats. He was the top defender’s favorite toy. If caught roaming, Rankin would punish him with lack of food, but he’d gotten used to that over his years in the complex. He wasn’t going resuming his proper place until he had to. Every second of freedom he could steal was precious.
2
Angelica knew which way to go in the drafty halls, unlike some of the changelings who were still wandering around in search of their flat. She was pleased to be next to the cubicle her cousin Candice had been in during her week of battles. Angelica had been here then, kidnapped from another corridor. That had been the last straw. She’d signed up the same day she was rescued, picking the new rush, double-or-nothing version of the show that required players not to withdraw. If she won, the teenager would receive a bachelor and a nice chunk of bonus cash. If she lost, her bank accounts and property would belong to the Network. Angelica was worth almost a million UDs now, money that had been hard earned, but she hadn’t batted a lash over the choice. It was immaterial compared to the murders she was about to commit.
Fun, Angelica contemplated sarcastically. Unlike her fearsome cousin or her wild sister, Angelica wasn’t hard and dangerous. Yeah, she had a skill for picking out weaknesses and yeah, she had a trick or ten they’d been perfecting over the years, but what mattered was nerve. Did she have enough to do this, knowing her worries on the ride here were valid? Not all of the matches were a given.
Angelica slung her kit onto the chipped green counter of her apartment while listening to that angry mental voice. Until the sunrise chime, she was allowed to withdraw, though she would pay a large fine. Should I get out now?
Can I? That’s the better question, she realized. Can I live with myself if I tap out?
Angelica scowled bitterly. No. Even without the family reputation to live up to, or the need for information to pass to the rebels, there was still the cold bed waiting for her return–the painfully empty bed. The change had come and turned her into something else, something that hungered and burned endlessly. She didn’t want any of those frightened bachelors, but she needed one. Even death would be better than this constant agony. She had come to earn one or the other.
Angelica clicked on the viewing screen in the flat in time to hear the announcer explaining the new rules that had been implemented since Candice won. She listened while having a fast meal of pemmican jerky. Besides providing fourteen females to kill instead of nine, unlimited visits with the prizes were now included in the competition. The world was enjoying these new, intimate moments almost as much as they did the fighting. It drove up the ratings when replayed, as would each violent cage match Angelica needed to survive to earn the visits–all while dodging attempts by the other contestants to kill her while she ate and slept.
More fun. Out of the mix, she had spotted two contestants who made her heat flare–partially by the way the crowd parted so quickly for them. The first had been a tiny woman. No more than 5’ 1”, she wore the Network logo on her bracelet, telling everyone she’d finished the Time Trials first. Or maybe she had sewn it on herself, like Candice had for her match after stealing it from the real winner. Either way, Angelica knew the tiny female was someone to be careful of. It was in her walk and her relaxed stance. It said she wasn’t scared of much, let alone any of the contestants in the hall. It was the same impression she’d given while they had raced in the final heat. If not for intelligence, it would have been Angelica wearing that patch instead of Kim Lee. She had originally set out to get it, but realized she didn’t need the extra attention it would bring. Angelica had taken a dive and kept that Pruett mystery cloak around herself like an old friend. It would come off during her first match, when she revealed she was just as angry as her cousin had been.
The second contestant who had drawn Angelica’s attention was of average height and weight, with simply her eyes (dangerous, unreadable) to give away the lurking threat. Those eyes declared she’d come to win, but Angelica hadn’t backed down from the changeling glare the way some of others in the hall had.
Outside, arriving mopars and horses were a constant noise as more citizens came in for different games, for a chance at the prizes. A rare few could afford to ride the Network train to their match, making the noises of the city loud enough to overpower the murmur of hundreds of voices in these thin flats. The braying of hellhounds and the cries of their victims were lounge music to changelings. A small explosive had been detonated in the eastern edge of the city yesterday and now, people were being questioned. Rebellion from any source was a growing threat to the hold their rulers had over everything. Innocent blood would decorate the walks until the guards got answers.
Four females Angelica had already discounted huddled nervously near sentries on the screen as the afternoon news report began. They were already having trouble with other players in the halls. Not about to miss a chance to get involved or cause chaos, Angelica headed for the Block to complete the signup process. I’m here. It’s not Candice this time. It’s my turn!
The last one in, when Angelica entered the lavish lounge behind the Block, all attention swung her way. Taking in her young age and light layer of scars, some of the women instantly began taking her less seriously despite the famous last name.
Angelica continued to give that impression, nodding politely at those who stared or glared. Of the latter group, there were half a dozen. They scanned her new cloak and perfectly polite expression, and still recognized Angelica for what she was–a threat.
“Chelsea Bush!”
Not bothering to watch the graceful trio of sisters glide toward the velvet curtains, Angelica concentrated on discovering if any of the sturdy players lining these walls might be able to kill her when the official chime sounded at dawn.
“Danielle Bush!”
Sighing inwardly at how long this would take, Angelica tried to narrow a suspected weakness in each contestant. She thought of anything but the performance to come.
Ice had settled over Angelica by the time they announced the fourteenth fighter and summarized her talents. She exited the stage with a short glare.
Angelica recognized the woman as a diva gang member by her white clothes and braids. Candice had killed their leader during her game. There’s the family name again, helping things along, she noted. Angelica gave a short wave. “I don’t bite. Don’t be frightened.”
The woman fled the empty waiting room with a quick glower.
“And the last Contestant is...”
The moment stretched into eternity before the speaker blared again.
“Angelica Pruett!”
Angelica felt a hush come over the live audience of bachelors and viewers.
“From sisters to cousins, this is Angelica, an 18-year-old Pruett family tracker. As a member of one of the most brutal clans in the history of the games, I wonder what we can anticipate from this changeling teenager…”
Angelica walked forward. She was the third of her family to come through these curtains to claim a mate. Would she live up to expectations? What about the audience? What did they want most? A good show? For her to be as harsh as the other players hadn’t been? Angelica hoped both were true as she kept her gaze from straying to the small glass box at the top of the honeycomb-like complex. Before all was said and done, a Pruett might walk into that room.
Angelica emerged below the first cage where she would battle tomorrow, a bit stunned by the audience. The constantly shifting mob was already violently drunk and peppered with guards trying to strike them, repeatedly, into obedience. It wasn’t working.
Angelica came forward as her image flashed onto giant screens spread among the triangle-shaped walls. The tension thickened with each light step she took. Even the announcer was silent.
Angelica faced the cameras at the end of the stage. In the rush version of the game, the contestants were allowed to give a short statement.
“I’m so happy to be here. I’m sure it’ll be a learning experience. Thanks soooo much to the Network!” She’d memorized the exact tones of those who had come before her, so much that it was eerie. “I love the complex and I can’t wait to meet all the bachelors!”
Angelica’s sarcasm held the crowd still and silent until she snorted, making those in the front row jump. She pointed at the camera, gravelly voice dropping into a dangerous level. “The others are fluff, but you can bet your ass on a Pruett.”
She spun toward the curtains, pulling the string on her cloak to reveal netted cloth outlining her stocky body in thin nude strips. It was designed in a spider web, as Candy’s had been for her match, except it was the color of skin and gave the impression Angelica was naked.
Chaos erupted as catcalls and yells exploded from the crowd and drugged prizes.
The stunned announcer tried to recapture the moment and control the disorder with laughter. “Well, that is a Pruett butt!”
Another round of yells came in response.
Angelica didn’t have her cousin’s body of scars to be intimidating, though she did have a nice collection. For now, she still needed surprise, so she had chosen to forego showing her weapons. She didn’t want her opponents to be able to account for them–also Candice’s successful tactic. Her challengers had been so busy worrying over what weapons she might bring to the matches that they’d forgotten a Pruett didn’t need any.
When Angelica left the Block, the waiting room was empty. Damn! Candice was ambushed as she left the stage. Why not me? Angelica sighed in disappointment, taking her starless ID card from the console before heading down the hall. Maybe there’ll be an assassin in my flat.
3
Angelica’s tiny apartment held a long green couch, a green kitchenette, and a washing cubby with a single green towel and half a bar of melting soap. Their rulers didn’t care for comfort or cleanliness. She brushed dust from the chipped counter before setting her cooking kit there. It appeared these flats weren’t cleaned often, but at least there were no bloodstains on the walls. The small apartment was far from the digs Angelica was used to, but her family’s wealth had brought her here. Unless you were a criminal, the entry fees were exorbitant and her parents hadn’t given their support. Angelica had been forced to use her share of the bounties she’d collected over the last two years. If she had been caught on the payroll before she was eighteen, the entire clan would have been arrested.
Instead, Angelica had helped bring in a number of high-profile targets and earned her place, but it hadn’t mattered to her parents. Despite all the successes, her parents doubted her ability to survive here. Angelica understood. Before the disease, Angelica hadn’t been rebellious like Candice or even outspoken like her sister, Sam was. She’d been nice. They didn’t understand. That part of her life was a vague blur. All Angelica could think about, all she could feel now, was pain. And there was only one cure.
Angelica’s dreams the first night were foggy, shifting worries interrupted by wakeful periods where she sent pink eyes around the darkness, poised to react. She did it for hours, savoring every thirty minutes she was able to steal. Being a family tracker had toughened her up. Time would tell if it would keep her alive.
4
Angelica woke in time to hear the view screen in her flat click on, signaling the start of the episode. All over this floor, other changelings were being brought to alertness the same way. Their growls pleased Angelica, who didn’t mind rude awakenings and preferred to be up early. Both were part of her job.
“Welcome to Round One of the Bachelor Battles! We will begin by choosing the Luck of the Draw contestant who will have three fights in a row. Viewers will vote on matchups as soon as we have a name.” The reporter paused for the required follow up. “The Network will pick a replacement if our Luck of the Draw winner is defeated. No other official fights are held during this time, but attacks and assassination attempts are, as always, encouraged.”
In the corner of the apartment, a platform rose from the floor and a thin control device slid out of the puke-green wall.
“Step onto the scanner and remain motionless,” the computer demanded.
“Contestants are now being evaluated by a computer designed specifically to determine which of our players has the best odds to win. It’s meant to take away the edge of the fittest, over those who’ve had less training. Their pictures and stats are now showing up,” the announcer informed the enrapt audience.
“Please step off the scanner.”
Thunder cracked outside the dome, sending a line of fuzz through the monitor that gave the contestants an evil glare on the screen. Angelica’s was particularly menacing, pleasing her.
“We’ll have our Luck of the Draw fighter in a moment, but before that, a quick reminder on what our contestants can earn from their matches. Stars are given for each kill, high popularity, and by Network decision. Each star will gain the contestant a guard while in the halls and their flat, along with a fresh stock of weapons, food, and medical credits. Stars cannot be lost, but at the start of Round Two, they can be given away to protect someone else, such as visiting family.
“Okay…the results are ready. We’ll hit the button, and… There. Now, we’ll get the name when the timer counts down.”
The crowd on the screen was unruly despite the early hour, mirroring Angelica’s impatience. Tired sentries marched into the mob with clubs and growls.
It began to rain, making Angelica think of the trip waiting for her if she won. The dust storms currently raging across the borderlands would be followed by a month of steady rain that killed more of those trying to survive there than even the pythons did during breeding season. At the height of the rains, the pythons placed their eggs in the ground, allowing them to populate the southern lands in staggering numbers as the eggs washed downstream during the floods. Angelica would become intimate with that hostile land if she survived this game.
“Angelica Pruett!” the announcer shouted wildly.
“You have been scheduled for a match in one hour,” the computer in her room stated. “Please report to the main cage on time.”
A small map flashed on the wall, but Angelica didn’t need it. Few contestants came here without having already studied episodes to memorize the layout for their game. Those who didn’t, like the huddlers from the hall, were destined to lose.
“Our Luck of the Draw contestant is Angelica Pruett! How’s that for a coincidence? Will this 18-year-old bounty hunter survive the first three matches like her cousin did? The computer thinks so. Wadda ya say, folks? Wanna place a bet or two? Booths are open!”
The crowd went wild, making the announcer wait to be heard. “…and the first contestant our bounty hunting changeling will fight is…the Diva Brawler!”
Angelica flipped the screen off. There was no way she was the most likely to win. Someone had tampered with the computer for this match. Candice had told her it was easily done, but Angelica had chosen to run it fairly. Obviously, someone had other plans. If she had allowed any of them to come, which she hadn’t, Angelica would have told her family it was just the enemy covering both angles, but it was obvious they wanted her dead. There was no way to mistake the feeling. She’d been marked.
5
Interviews were done two ways. Angelica much preferred the screen conversations she could respond to from the privacy of her booger-green flat. The other way required her to show up on the press floor below the Block. It meant padding through the cubicles while enduring shouted questions as she searched for the reporter she was supposed to answer. Like a circus. She’d been to one of those rare events as a child and hated it.
As Angelica shoved through the door, the long hall of smoky, hutch-like setups fell silent…and then the residents swarmed her.
Behind the shouting throng, a single reporter remained in front of her hooch. When she held up her mic, Angelica walked toward her. As she went, the bounty hunter wasn’t gentle.
After two reporters went sliding roughly across the slick, ashy floor, the rest gave her space, but they still hurtled questions like spit.
“Has the…”
“Did you…”
“How long...”
Angelica reached her reporter and spun around with pink eyes. She was gratified when the others all flinched. “Get lost!”
She let red irises come to the front, marveling at her on-the-edge control.
They resumed their places with fearful stares and twitchy glares. Angelica remembered the way Candice had used them while she was here, intimidated them. Maybe they could be put to use for her, as well. She would think on it.
Angelica’s reporter hadn’t rushed over, but she could feel the woman hungrily memorizing every move she made. The reporter had a sharp smirk, knowing she and her toga-clad body got the Pruett first. Angelica disliked her instantly.
Toga-woman gestured her in, arrogantly presenting her back as if she held no fear.
I can change that, Angelica reflected vaguely. She sank into the uncomfortable chair, noting guards standing stiffly in the corners. When Candice had been here, the interviews were done on the main stage. After her cousin’s encounters, their rulers had changed it to the prepping floor and made enemies among the Fourth Estate. These TV-minded gals needed to be in the spotlight to be satisfied. Angelica planned to keep that in mind as she dealt with them.
“Ready?”
Despite the reporter’s reasonable tone, Angelica didn’t expect this to be anything like a calm chat. “You know it.”
It was hard to remember some things, especially when they never meant much to her anyway, and the first interview was uncomfortable as she struggled to walk the line between the new and old Angelica–the good and the evil. She was trying hard to give a harmless impression so when she let it out, when she snatched the diva by the throat, surprise would give her a first easy win. Before the change, snarky comments and snide remarks were ignored, shrugged off. Now, they were a direct challenge and if not for the steady blink of the camera light to concentrate on, Angelica thought she may have exploded before the first match.
“So, we have Angel Pruett here with us…”
She recognized that voice now (strike two!) and made another mental note to handle it.
“As you all know by now, Angelica’s cousin is suspected of being a rebel sympathizer, but I think Angelica wants the world to know she doesn’t share in that lawlessness. What better way to uphold the family honor than to come here, right? Let’s give her a big welcome.”
After the applause and shouts, the smirking reporter went through questions about her family and then the competition. Angelica assumed she answered as the other players had.
“How does it feel to be related to such brutal women?”
“Good.”
“Are you trying to prove you belong in the family?”
“I’m trying to get laid.”
A pause and a frown. Hmm… “You’re ranked ninth at the moment. Does that worry you?”
“Yeah, it’s what keeps me up at night.”
There was a longer pause to her scorn, her mocking, and a deeper scowl Angelica was betting she could make worse. The reporter wore fine, caressing fibers with stunning style and no wind resistance, making the bounty hunter snort at the mental picture of her in the real world. Without the dome, these soft people would freeze in their elegant attire and indifferent social mindsets.
“Why did you enter the games?”
“Sex and blood.”
“No, really.”
“Yes, really.” She’d been right. The scowl nearly encompassed the reporter’s profile now.
“The change! Does the anger make it hard to focus?”
“Yes, when I’m forced to answer stupid questions.” Then again, maybe her tones weren’t so similar. Maybe she was a bit faster, a bit sharper than the others had been. Angelica wouldn’t know until the rankings came out. She needed to jump a level every day to keep a full stock of food and medical credits.
“What do you think about your odds of winning a prize?” the twit asked.
Angelica couldn’t help herself. She was going to like continuing Candy’s traditions. “Better than yours, I’d guess, since you spend your day in a chair instead of a cage.”
The reporter flushed. Not a gentle rise of color, but a bloom of red fury, and again, Angelica couldn’t help herself. She grinned.
Chapter Two
The Bachelors
1
“Welcome to the first match of this week’s episode!”
Blue lights flashed over the arena as the crowd roared. The fighting cage was a 12’ x 12’ dome with a fence frame and dozens of small, sturdy cameras. To reach it, Angelica had to come down the same fenced-in walkway Candice had strolled and she tried hard to emulate that unshakable façade. As her mentor, Candice had reminded her of two things before they split up. The first was to react to each situation exactly as it deserved, which had always been necessary when training with Candice, but the second piece of advice would be most helpful.
“Use the media. Spend the interview blending the old and the new into something on the edge. Then set it loose in the cage.”
As Angelica entered into the arena, she could feel those deadly edges gleaming hungrily at the contestant she’d noticed in the reception hall. Angelica advanced toward the crooked-nosed huddler eagerly. The woman had one minute to bow out, sixty seconds to choose life or death.
Angelica wasn’t surprised when she remained. The woman wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have her own drives.
Angelica slid her cloak to the floor as she entered the ring. Still wearing the netted outfit from the introduction, it made even her opponent gape and gave her the instant advantage. Angelica was the unknown, the high-odds wild card, and she met the Diva in the center with fury burning in her gut.
The brawler came forward like a boxer when the gate slid down. Angelica was tempted to duke it out (she excelled at hand-to-hand combat) but she couldn’t wait. She needed blood.
As the Diva rushed forward, swinging, Angelica ducked, leaning in to plunge her blade deep into the Diva’s unprotected belly. She ripped upward as she spun, wrist-blade slashing again.
The huddler’s hands came up to stop the gaping flood of crimson now streaming from her neck.
“Match to Pruett!”
The crowd roared, some screaming her name, and Angelica inhaled deeply, struggling not to slice the body again. She already loved it here in this small ring of death. Unlike her cousin, Angelica felt no guilt. During the worst moments of the disease, she believed spilling blood was what she was put on the earth to do, and she did it well.
Angelica let the body hit the mat, waiting to let the tension thicken before giving the audience what they wanted.
Her grin was ugly.
2
Angelica’s first two battles had been scheduled back-to-back. She left her bloody clothes on as she traveled the mostly empty, photo-lined halls. In the thousands of images were centuries of females who had suffered through these games, shown at their most violent moments. The Network surrounded their citizens with blood. There was a different arena-like cage set up for each of their violent games. The episodes with multiple matches alternated between the unused cages to allow for cleanup, Angelica assumed. She found it all very orderly and awful. They’d kept the death flowing, with no pause for even the removal of bodies to be caught on camera and frowned over.
No one shrank from her yet as she sauntered along the hall. She had one star, one menacing guard, but the frowns of those she passed implied they’d soon be researching details from the safety of their wall screens. It was something Angelica had already done for each of them when the names had first been announced.
Angelica pushed the entry gate open and strode down the walkway, stepping into the identical cage without sympathy for the bone-thin female. It was another of the four huddlers. Her panicked brown eyes and those shaking, unflawed hands declared she wasn’t a changeling, but Angelica tightened her control. She would not allow compassion to ghost her. She was a Pruett. They weren’t that weak.
“Cage Match Two!”
The dividing bar went down, and Angelica came forward as the blue lights glinted blindingly. The huddler sensed her lack of compassion the instant they locked gazes.
Huddler flinched toward the withdraw rope…
No mercy!
Angelica lunged forward to slam her against the cage.
“Nooo!”
Bloodlust in control, Angelica sank her teeth deep into the huddler’s neck. Her growl of delight was overpowered by the loudspeaker and screams from the live audience.
“Match to Pruett!”
Blood squirted, spraying crimson to compliment her eyes.
Angelica let the warm body fall as she pulled her teeth in, now a hideous mess. She waited for the crowd to quiet, knowing this image would grace the front of every daily edition across their nuclear-torn world. The thought drew a harsh smirk.
The crowd thundered approval. “Pruett! Pruett! Pruett!”
On her way out of the cage, Angelica slid her knife into the air and cut the withdraw rope. She wanted it clear that she would give no quarter.
The screams grew louder, hungrier at her action. Laying low had been the plan, but it wasn’t possible now. She already lusted for the legal violence of the next match too much to pretend anything else.
3
For some reason, Angelica had three guards when she entered the halls and three flickering, golden stars on her ID card. She went to the bachelor cells with only a fast wipe of her sleeve. It was better the males saw the new her, the Angelica who basked in the blood of her opponent. The male she chose would have to be able to accept it. Once changed, there was no going back.
Her security trio waited outside the cells.
Angelica didn’t miss them. The bachelor dorm was only open to one contestant at a time to prevent injury to the valuable prizes. So far as she knew, that rule hadn’t been broken in the history of the games.
Angelica studied the blue-haired female standing stiffly by a chair, clipboard in hand. The woman was the managing den mother and she stayed in the entrance. Her bushy brows and pox-marked skin was hard to read, but her hovering implied she was fond of her charges.
“You have one hour,” she stated.
Angelica wondered how deep the bond was between these big guards and the prizes. Did they depend on the women for everything? She thought the answer was yes and that meant the one she chose would need the same support. The Network trained them to obey and to please, not to think.
There were three more enormous sentries lurking in the large flat and each of them scrutinized her like the threat she was. They wore the usual uniform of silver on black, but each hairdo was a different, vivid color that might have made Angelica snicker if not for knowing it was how the males told them apart. Names were not a big thing here, where the faces changed weekly.
As she swept cuddle chairs and candlelight, Angelica identified the smell littering the air. Italian food. She grimaced, thinking of the blood drying on her skin, but she didn’t wash. To do so now would be taken as a sign of weakness to those viewing them live, but without sound.
Unlike her flat, the bachelor cells were neat and clean. Half the reception hall was taken up by a long table with fifteen settings. On this wide table were tall, white candles and red cloth napkins in front of high-backed chairs. Probably softer than anything my ass has ever sat on, Angelica reflected.
The other half was a compliment to the dining. There were long, silver and black curtains, and small pillows to match the elegant red and black sofas. A number of floor-bound reading lamps threw a gentle glow over the room, but as a final addition, there was an enormous stone fireplace in the far corner, keeping the chill from the valuable males. It was cozy. She assumed their rulers liked the idea of the world believing these men were pampered, but she had been at Stone Mountain. She had spent time among Baker’s escaped males. She knew better.
“Evan, Christen, Alec, Mike.”
Angelica didn’t bother to learn their names, instead judging their reaction to her as they came out.
Fear. Worry. Fear. Fear. Near panic. Almost all of them reacted badly, some freezing in their practiced entry as she searched them for a sign. She narrowed in on one standing behind the others, drawn by shiny black hair draped over thick shoulders. That one wasn’t wearing a cloak of fear.
The bachelor met her searching study with a slight lift of his chin. Wide chest, thick arms, big hands resting against lean hips… The image of being touched by those big fingers lit her up like a torch.
He dropped his head and the spell broke, heat receding. Interesting. Would the rest of them make her experience that with only a look?
The males were pretty. Their pleasing facades and flowing, black cloaks reminded her of the sexless dolls she had played with as a child. If not for their stiff stances and terrified expressions, they might well have been. They in no way resembled the lusty men from last night. Was there no real spark in these guys? No hidden desires?
“May they sit?” the den mother asked.
“Have them remove their clothes.” Angelica observed reactions.
More fear, touches of panic, and then finally, a bit of reluctance, the mother of rebellion. It came from the male she’d already noticed.
“What?”
“Their cloaks,” Angelica conceded.
The men complied without argument, revealing shirts tucked neatly into soft trousers she judged to be new by the way the men fidgeted as they undressed for her.
Bam!
Lightning struck outside the covered windows. Most of the bachelors flinched violently. Candy had told her about Daniel’s fear of the weather. It came from not wanting to burn to death like others here had.
“Tis just a storm,” another den mother spoke quietly from nearby. “We’re monitoring.”
Her words had an instant, calming effect and Angelica vowed to remember to do that for her mate when the weather was bad. She didn’t have many fears, but for those that existed, she wanted comfort while conquering them. She planned to extend the same courtesy to her prize.
“Leave us,” Angelica demanded.
Not a request, all but the blue-haired den mother disappeared.
The woman thought she wanted to take a stand on it. Angelica sighed. She hadn’t planned on a third match today, but she would be alone with these men or thrown out–one of the two.
Angelica padded her way and was satisfied when the woman immediately retreated.
She jerked a hand. “Go, while you can.”
Blue mother fled and Angelica concentrated, trying to reign in the rage. She didn’t want the bachelors to be terrified of her. She needed to be welcome.
She rotated to find all of the bachelors as far from her as they could get, profiles lined up in panicked rows. She locked down on disappointment and gestured toward the long table. “Let’s eat.”
The last one to sit, Angelica lingered, letting her hunting instincts send her in the right direction. It was the same skill she used on runs and she employed it now to single out a few of the more promising from the herd. Her need was rising fast in the tension. What would it be like to love one of them? To hold them during the cold, painful nights?
Angelica let the Pruett come forward. She sniffed the air like an animal, tasting them.
Sweet flowers, heavy cologne… One of them had a thick, coppery scent that pulled her like blood. Another was throwing off odors of sugar and sulfur. Those last two scents would please her senses. What about their attitudes?
Most of them were sitting perfectly straight, with neat clothes, but two had unfastened the top buttons of their shirts, leaving crooked ties and a slightly off-center impression. She liked that.
Chins were down, eyes submissive…except a few of them were stealing subtle glances of confused fear and hope. Interesting, and tempting to have all those ways to relieve this fire now sitting docilely at her fingertips. If only one of them would show a spark!
The males relaxed when the den mothers came out carrying heavily laden trays. The heaping bowls of pasta and meat filled the air with hunger, but the men waited to be given permission.
Slaves. Angelica waved a filthy hand. “Eat.” She dug into her bowl and enjoyed the sweet milk being served with it. Hard to come by, real milk was a treat.
The men ate quietly, carefully, eyes darting to hers in brief seconds of concern.
Angelica did her best to ignore them at first, thinking they were too thin. Perhaps the generous meal was for the benefit of the live, soundless cameras? Were they not fed properly unless on display? Anything was possible in this apocalyptic hell.
The fella on her right, seat subtly inched away, was adorable. Perfect teeth, clear skin, and his smell! Like a fresh rose, but meatier. Aware of her attention, he was precise in his movements, likely so he didn’t trigger her instinct to hunt. Angelica knew aggressiveness was often erased in slaves by denying them testosterone, and she wondered if the same were true of the prizes. According to the Network, these were pure of chemicals, and felt privileged to be here, where each week brought the hope of a kind owner.
And then there’s me. She smothered a Candice-like grin at the notion and continued. To the right of pristine male, came three more pretty faces–two blonds and a sexy brunette with stunning gray eyes. He was the one who had lifted his chin to her. Angelica’s gaze lingered… Next to these were more perfection–seven unblemished profiles. What do they do with the ugly ones? There certainly weren’t any of those here.
She turned to her left. Their curious gazes met, and he flushed. He’d been ogling her nearly naked body. Sweet! She had to hide yet another snarling grin. The change was zinging her hormones, opening the flood valves. Some women snapped when it became too much, attacking before the drugs could take effect. Because of the disease, men were now the ones afraid to submit and be hurt or even killed. Full of these thoughts, shivers of need slid up her thighs to curl around her spine in a surge of agony. Angelica’s grip tightened on the table. Damn!
The males tensed, sensing her reaction.
Angelica forced a bite of food into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Control.
After another minute of breathing calmly, Angelica was ready to take it a step further, testing herself. Part of the reason for slaves to be so dependent on the den mothers was that it eliminated the need for them to speak. The sound of a male voice was like a match to kindling.
“I have questions.”
Angelica’s declaration sent a fresh wave of tension through the group of nine men, causing them to glance at each other for protection. None of them spoke.
She took another drink of the sweet milk, then gently picked up her fork. “Do you sing?”
“Yes. We all sing.”
The confusing jumble hit her ears, making Angelica blink. She scanned the table. She hadn’t been positive any of them had the courage to respond, not even the one she’d caught ogling her, and so it was something of a surprise all of them had answered, at the same time.
“Again,” she ordered.
They were confused, but dutifully echoed themselves, “Yes, we all sing.”
Slightly out of harmony this time, Angelica was able to understand the illusion that had distracted her. It was a defense they’d obviously developed to temper changeling reactions to their voices. Clever. She could order them not to do it, put a stop to each thin shield they tried to employ, but why would she? She liked games. Wasn’t she a contestant in one even now? Angelica grinned.
The males shrank down and Angelica reached for a cup instead of snapping her teeth at them as the need was advising. It would feel sooo good to lose control!
Angelica shook her head at the green-haired den mother, glad when she and her shit-shaded dreadlocks retreated to resume hovering in the shadows of the next room. Wise, Angelica thought. I’m on the edge.
She took a last bite, savoring the meal.
The bachelors resumed their own barely touched bowls. Not wanting them to miss the good food, Angelica lingered at the table, letting them have their fill as she kept testing, pushing them and herself.
“You’re all registered breeders?” They couldn’t answer that question as one. She braced.
“I am.”
The pristine man on her right sounded ashamed, but Angelica couldn’t help his pain. She was in shock at the waves of change spiraling through her. So beautiful! Like a bell, the rolling tone of his voice slid into her guts and twisted the need, sending a vicious flare of lust through her body. Angelica shivered, slamming her lashes shut. If she focused on him right now, so close! she would be lost.
Breathe–in and out. And she could, a bit, because of the fear. It was so thick she could smell it radiating from their perfect bodies. Angelica inhaled deeper of it. Better. It bothered her for them to be so scared.
In. Out. Much better. She eased her grip on the fork as she braced again–harder this time. “Who else?”
The males shared twitchy, darting glances up and down the table in surprise.
“I am.”
“So am I.”
Seated across the table, both of their voices pierced her, and then sank into that bubbling mix and caught fire. But she’d been ready this time and went on. “Anyone else?”
There was silence where she could feel them all wondering if that now made those three safe or wanted more.
“I am not.”
Her words sent mutters around the table that teased, tempted. It was a surprise at all for her to have told them. It was drastically different from the treatment they were used to, but Angelica was after other ends than most of the females they’d had contact with. “It makes control over myself much harsher than what I would be with a mate.”
Another round of shocked murmurs brought blasts of sweet pain. Tenderness coming from a warrior bathed in blood was a rarity in their world. “If I’m too frightening, switch out.”
None of them left to trade places with the few males she hadn’t inspected yet. Angelica would have been surprised if they had, but two of these were now off her list. The relief was clear. “If you love someone, I’d also have you switch.”
Again, no words, but another bachelor was eliminated by the indecision in his expression. It was common for slaves to fall in love with their regular renters and try to avoid being awarded, so they could make it to the 25-year-old age limit for prizes. After that, they were listed for sale to the public and could be bought by their lover.
Booom!
Thunder crashed, almost loud enough to make Angelica flinch. It sent one of the bachelors from his chair to crouch on the floor. Terrified, the shivering skinhead missed her frown, but the others took note and leaned away so as not to share his fate.
Angelica waved a hand. “Go to your cell if it eases you.”
He and his clean scalp were gone an instant later.
Angelica met a den mother’s surprise with a hard frown. “Aren’t they allowed to have a spine?”
The woman shook pink hair, tone giving nothing away. “No. Switch?”
“No.” Angelica wasn’t ready for a new temptation yet. She was still working through these.
Angelica continued with her questions as the hour passed, throwing surprises in forms the men had to answer for themselves. With each stunning blast of their voices, she grew stronger.
“You have five minutes.”
The blue den mother retreated and Angelica leaned over her empty bowl, keeping her voice low. Like her infamous cousin, Angelica was always one to encourage dissension among the ranks. “Singing has a calming effect. All of you together might be hard to resist, even for a changeling.”
Satisfied they would figure out the new defense she’d given them; Angelica slid her chair back and stood up.
Need flared from the bachelors as they stared at her nearly naked body. It was obvious the males had needs, even when they weren’t drugged. Interesting.
Angelica returned their gawks with desperate longing all but two of the prizes shied from. She let the huntress out again, scenting.
That chocolate over hot coals aroma drifted into her brain again and burnt. Angelica inhaled deeper. It was intoxicating.
“Good night, bachelors.”
“Have a nice evening, Angelica.”
Even with all their voices together, hearing her name from them took her straight into hell. Angelica narrowed in on that scent again, breathing deeper. Which one was layered in the delicious odor? Was it natural or a spray? It was powerful enough to twist her brain into complete confusion.
“No cologne next time I come.”
“I’ll handle it,” another den mother, orange hair this time, appeased her from the darkness. She had no doubt the Pruett would win another match to earn the visit.
Angelica swept them one more time, counting those she hadn’t mentally marked off the list…lingering on gray eyes and silken black hair. She liked that one. She would make him speak next time so she could judge the level of heat he brought out. Whichever male drew her most was the one she would choose.
It was hard to leave, but Angelica did, proud she could. One of those bachelors would be hers–after she executed more women who were suffering like she was.
Angelica lingered outside the cell with her guards, still searching for threats while she regained control. She’d known it would be hard, but it was… Angelica grunted bitterly. It’s like sitting at a buffet and not being allowed to eat anything. Damn the old ones who caused this torment!
4
“She’s the one.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s gonna win it all.”
“Remember, we do whatever it takes to get her to go to the rebels–even if the Pruetts really aren’t helping them.”
“Right. We know how to provide a service and the Network gives full medical care to bounty hunters. Get listed as a member of the crew, be friendly, and locate Baker.”
Standing in the shadows, Jason didn’t add a comment to the conversation between the other prizes, still thinking about how controlled Angelica had been. They’d agreed to try to warn the rebels as soon as they heard there was a Pruett listed again, but with this one, Jason sensed that wouldn’t be an easy task. They hoped to manipulate a new owner into doing what was required in order to accomplish their goal, but Jason didn’t think this one would even let a mate out of her sight long enough to attempt an escape. She was burning too fast, which meant a lot of service time…and then there was the clear impression that once bonded, a man might not want to leave her and the infamous family. Jason was instantly terrified of that impression. He already had one ghost who rarely left his mind. He didn’t want a new one. On his own, there was only one thing he could do–run and hope. It wouldn’t be enough.
The other males in this lot wanted to be free, to fight in the growing rebellion with Baker. Jason did too, but there was another reason he had to get out. He would be twenty-five in another month. If males in these shows weren’t chosen by then, they were put into the renter program or sold–usually to a brothel. Those were the same things in his mind, but Jason had something even worse hanging over his head. Katherine Rankin, the top defender, wanted him and it wasn’t casual. He had been surviving her visits since she was a lowly Captain of the sector surrounding the dome. Each time, her rage grew worse. Nearly all of the scattered, drop-shaped scars on his legs and hips had come from her fondness for screams, for blood. Some nights, he hadn’t been certain he would survive.
Despite the Network’s unforgiving hold on his body, his life, they had been unable to erase the memories Jason had of loving parents. His father and mother had cared deeply for each other. He longed for that future. Most males were kept away from their children, but his mother had encouraged their relationship. Jason had loved his father…mourned him when Rankin ripped his throat out. That was right after Jason had found them in the barn and started screaming. He’d assumed her lack of control over the disease had caused his dad’s death, but it hadn’t mattered. He had attacked Rankin in his grief and she’d taken him–in more ways than one. For the fifteen years since then, the complex and Rankin had been his life.
Jason had gone through the normal bachelor training under Rankin’s supervision. He knew how to please a changeling, but he’d never been fully taken by one. Jason was listed as pure, something the other males here disliked him for. He was spared their required time in the renter’s cells, he was exercised better, given more medical care, and he was defenseless against Rankin whenever she wanted him to practice his newly learned skills while she wore the cuffs.
She was so cruel! Jason often suspected she had more than one whore-in-training and he pitied those other males on the nights she and her bloody claws departed his cell unsatisfied. Rankin had gotten the promotion to queen of the sentry food chain by being careful. She wasn’t going to break the rules by taking Jason fully, but if he wasn’t picked in the next four episodes, they would list his number and Rankin could buy him. He looked a lot like his father now and she’d waited a long time to have him.
The other bachelors in this lot assumed one of them would be chosen by the Pruett. Their pretty features and submissive demeanors were obvious, but in Jason’s heart, he hoped Angelica Pruett would be different from the rest of the women who blew through here with their bloody fists. He was hoping she was like her cousin.
Jason was terrified of the duty waiting if he was picked, but he was desperate. Enough to lie to his new owner or service her needs for as long as it took him to escape. He had secrets the rebels might need to know, and in exchange, he hoped they would let him stay with them until he was stronger. Jason hated their rulers. The goal of gaining his life back would give him the courage to follow through with his plans.
From the small window in the door, Jason was enrapt as Angelica ran a blood-crusted hand through those short black spikes. He wondered what her thoughts were right then. Was she wishing she could come back in and snap? Did it matter to her if the bachelors were abused slaves? Would she kill him when she found out what he was doing?
It would make things easier if the Pruett lived up to the rumors he was about to trust his life to–that they were honorable and hated slavery as much as men did. The odds on something so wonderful were slim to none in this new Network world, but the restless fire in Jason’s heart had made the choice. He’d lived another life once, a free one, and he still missed it with everything he was. All he had now were the memories of a mother’s warm hand on his brow and the vague, haunting notes of his sisters giggling in the bed next to him. The fierce determination he’d nourished through the years of Rankin’s cruel abuse would carry him through.
I’ll take my chances with Angelica Pruett.
End of Free Sample
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“Come here, boy!”
Jason, covered in blood and shock, cringed against the wall as the changeling stomped toward him. In the bloody straw behind her, the boy’s father rose. Scarlet drops ran down his body like rain.
“Run!” William shouted, lunging at the woman.
Rankin, still in the throes of lust, rotated from the child to meet the father’s attack. Unlike their earlier battle, William didn’t restrain himself this time. He fought like a woman.
Jason was horrified as his last surviving family member struggled with the changeling who had come to buy him for the Network.
“Run!” William shouted again, using his weight to gain an advantage. He pinned the snarling, kicking, swiping demon to the wall of the barn, hands coming up to her throat.
Rankin felt the danger to her life and flipped into the uncontrollable animal that always lurked inside. She ripped his throat out with her claws.
“No!” Little Jason ran forward, slamming his fists into the woman’s hip.
Rankin kicked, catching the child in the stomach. He flew backwards, hitting his neck on the doorframe. He dropped heavily.
In the courtyard and on the porch, Rankin’s crew gaped in disbelief at the carnage.
“We’ll all go down for this,” one of them stated, inspecting the child. He wasn’t moving.
“We could report her, but I doubt it would matter.”
“So long as we don’t get sacrificed, I can stick to whatever story she tells. I suggest you do the same,” Lena, second in command, informed them coldly. “His chest is moving. Get a medical transport ready.”
“He’ll ride with me,” Rankin ordered, coming to the door. She scowled at her crew. She would get rid of these witnesses as soon as she could.
Rankin picked up the boy who resembled his father, her obsession. She headed for the horses they’d tied to the porch upon arrival. “Burn it.”
“What do we put on the report?” her XO asked evenly.
Rankin handed the limp body to a lower member while she mounted her horse. “We found a survivor of a fire and brought him in to the comfort and safety of the Network.”
After a fast glimpse around to verify there were no neighbors to have witnessed the savage attack that had left three citizens and a slave dead, the crew agreed. It would be easier to say little, than to try to invent a story to cover this mess.
Rankin cradled the boy in her bloody arms, mourning his father. She’d wanted William, but his son would do. Jason would belong to the Network legally, but Rankin’s promotion to top defender was coming next year and then he and every other slave in the complex would be at her fingertips. She planned to train her harem accordingly. Over time, one of them would become enough like William that she could finally have peace. She planned to concentrate her efforts on his son.
Chapter One
A Change in the Wind
1
“Welcome to the Network complex. Please place your hand on the scanner.”
“Is it her?”
“Is she the one? She walks like them.”
“Processing...”
“This part takes so long!”
The other three bachelors glared at the fourth for being too loud. If not for the hall of waiting changelings and all their noises, the sound might have carried. The bachelors were out of their cell without permission, watching players sign in for the games.
A fifth rebel bachelor ignored them all, listening for the computer response. The short, stocky woman signing in right now was a Pruett. Jason knew it, but he still needed it confirmed. Sneaking down here had been his idea.
“Welcome to New Network City, Angelica Pruett,” the computer sounded off cheerfully. “Please place your ID card into the slot and choose your game.”
“It is her!”
“Even the other beasts are scared of her. Look how they’re staying away. She’s too dangerous. Pick someone else.”
Again, Jason ignored his fellow captives to study Angelica. The Network was cracking down. They would have one chance to get this right, but Jason had other things hanging over him. To pin his hopes on this lethal changeling, he had to be positive she was like her cousin. He needed her to be honorable.
“Confirm your choice...”
Angelica pushed the button and spun around, mirroring her cousin’s gloating sneer.
The women waiting around her frowned or subtly put space between them, but it didn’t frighten Jason. Unlike the other bachelors, he wasn’t searching for someone to love him.
“Please report to the main stage by 5:30. Those not signed in will be disbarred from this episode and fined. Remember, no battling until the official start at sunrise.”
There was a short pause, and then another airy chime echoed as the gates at four of the five arched gateways slid to the side. From what Jason knew, the far left entry never opened to the public. It led here, to an employee entrance that was usually deserted unless the changelings crammed into the reception hall snapped. Jason and the other prizes had studied the last matches for months now, waiting and hoping for the right changelings to come through. Candice had been the perfect candidate, but she’d been so violent the other bachelors had refused to try gaining her attention. When Daniel had been chosen, they’d realized too late that she was honorable. She’d refused to consider anyone else by then. This time, Jason was getting out, no matter what it took.
Casting wary glances at each other, the fighters began to exit the wide-pillared reception hall, but Angelica waited, letting the rounded antechamber empty. It would have been safer to travel the corridors in the pack where the guards would be the thickest, but Jason sensed she was waiting for stragglers. Her need to know all of her challengers was a comfort to the secret rebel. To help him, she definitely had to be careful. So did he.
Jason scanned the empty room he and the others were spying from, confirming their safety. He didn’t like some of the slaves here in the complex, but he loved them all because they went through hell together. Their illegal book and magazine collection held stories of men in the past who’d fought together and been as bonded as family. Jason believed captives also felt that. A fight for survival, no matter the enemy, was powerful.
“Hey, isn’t that the Bush sisters?” one of the males whispered. The hall was mostly empty now and sounds would carry easier.
Jason inspected the family in disgust. The trio had once been powerful in their wealth, but they were the kind who wore a pair of quartz gravity boots once and threw them out instead of donating. They were the kind who flocked to food shelters to dole out holiday meals, but threw orphan girls off their stoops the rest of the year. They were the kind who would do anything, pay anything, to get what they wanted.
Jason almost knew the last female to select the Bachelor Battles. Chelsea Bush’s father had been held here for a few days after he’d caught aiding a group of rebels who missed the train ambush. After a search of their massive home, the family had been charged with ten violations of gravest laws. The sentence for their mother, the legal ruler of their household, had been death. The father had been sold to Rankin.
The sisters were outcasts now, poverty stricken from the heavy fines. They’d probably been sent to regain favor and refill their credits. It was a final deal for the families and a lucrative scheme for their rulers, who would use the famous sacrifices to keep the games popular. There had been a few calls coming from foreign elements brought in for the shows to have the violent programs outlawed and a more fair system of male distribution created. Few citizens were listening to the protestors, and the protestors didn’t stay alive long, so Jason hadn’t thought the Network was feeling pressured enough to do something so drastic to secure the future of their shows.
Angelica stayed in the wide hall until every contestant had checked in, and the main doors slammed shut, locking. No one would come in or out until of this section of the complex until the episode was over.
She paused at the archway, turning back. Her stare seemed to penetrate the walls, making the AWOL bachelors freeze in near panic.
Angelica squinted as though she knew someone was there. Maybe she did.
The prizes fled their spy room, except Jason. He lingered even after Angelica strode down the photo-lined corridor to enter the first hall of player flats. He was the top defender’s favorite toy. If caught roaming, Rankin would punish him with lack of food, but he’d gotten used to that over his years in the complex. He wasn’t going resuming his proper place until he had to. Every second of freedom he could steal was precious.
2
Angelica knew which way to go in the drafty halls, unlike some of the changelings who were still wandering around in search of their flat. She was pleased to be next to the cubicle her cousin Candice had been in during her week of battles. Angelica had been here then, kidnapped from another corridor. That had been the last straw. She’d signed up the same day she was rescued, picking the new rush, double-or-nothing version of the show that required players not to withdraw. If she won, the teenager would receive a bachelor and a nice chunk of bonus cash. If she lost, her bank accounts and property would belong to the Network. Angelica was worth almost a million UDs now, money that had been hard earned, but she hadn’t batted a lash over the choice. It was immaterial compared to the murders she was about to commit.
Fun, Angelica contemplated sarcastically. Unlike her fearsome cousin or her wild sister, Angelica wasn’t hard and dangerous. Yeah, she had a skill for picking out weaknesses and yeah, she had a trick or ten they’d been perfecting over the years, but what mattered was nerve. Did she have enough to do this, knowing her worries on the ride here were valid? Not all of the matches were a given.
Angelica slung her kit onto the chipped green counter of her apartment while listening to that angry mental voice. Until the sunrise chime, she was allowed to withdraw, though she would pay a large fine. Should I get out now?
Can I? That’s the better question, she realized. Can I live with myself if I tap out?
Angelica scowled bitterly. No. Even without the family reputation to live up to, or the need for information to pass to the rebels, there was still the cold bed waiting for her return–the painfully empty bed. The change had come and turned her into something else, something that hungered and burned endlessly. She didn’t want any of those frightened bachelors, but she needed one. Even death would be better than this constant agony. She had come to earn one or the other.
Angelica clicked on the viewing screen in the flat in time to hear the announcer explaining the new rules that had been implemented since Candice won. She listened while having a fast meal of pemmican jerky. Besides providing fourteen females to kill instead of nine, unlimited visits with the prizes were now included in the competition. The world was enjoying these new, intimate moments almost as much as they did the fighting. It drove up the ratings when replayed, as would each violent cage match Angelica needed to survive to earn the visits–all while dodging attempts by the other contestants to kill her while she ate and slept.
More fun. Out of the mix, she had spotted two contestants who made her heat flare–partially by the way the crowd parted so quickly for them. The first had been a tiny woman. No more than 5’ 1”, she wore the Network logo on her bracelet, telling everyone she’d finished the Time Trials first. Or maybe she had sewn it on herself, like Candice had for her match after stealing it from the real winner. Either way, Angelica knew the tiny female was someone to be careful of. It was in her walk and her relaxed stance. It said she wasn’t scared of much, let alone any of the contestants in the hall. It was the same impression she’d given while they had raced in the final heat. If not for intelligence, it would have been Angelica wearing that patch instead of Kim Lee. She had originally set out to get it, but realized she didn’t need the extra attention it would bring. Angelica had taken a dive and kept that Pruett mystery cloak around herself like an old friend. It would come off during her first match, when she revealed she was just as angry as her cousin had been.
The second contestant who had drawn Angelica’s attention was of average height and weight, with simply her eyes (dangerous, unreadable) to give away the lurking threat. Those eyes declared she’d come to win, but Angelica hadn’t backed down from the changeling glare the way some of others in the hall had.
Outside, arriving mopars and horses were a constant noise as more citizens came in for different games, for a chance at the prizes. A rare few could afford to ride the Network train to their match, making the noises of the city loud enough to overpower the murmur of hundreds of voices in these thin flats. The braying of hellhounds and the cries of their victims were lounge music to changelings. A small explosive had been detonated in the eastern edge of the city yesterday and now, people were being questioned. Rebellion from any source was a growing threat to the hold their rulers had over everything. Innocent blood would decorate the walks until the guards got answers.
Four females Angelica had already discounted huddled nervously near sentries on the screen as the afternoon news report began. They were already having trouble with other players in the halls. Not about to miss a chance to get involved or cause chaos, Angelica headed for the Block to complete the signup process. I’m here. It’s not Candice this time. It’s my turn!
The last one in, when Angelica entered the lavish lounge behind the Block, all attention swung her way. Taking in her young age and light layer of scars, some of the women instantly began taking her less seriously despite the famous last name.
Angelica continued to give that impression, nodding politely at those who stared or glared. Of the latter group, there were half a dozen. They scanned her new cloak and perfectly polite expression, and still recognized Angelica for what she was–a threat.
“Chelsea Bush!”
Not bothering to watch the graceful trio of sisters glide toward the velvet curtains, Angelica concentrated on discovering if any of the sturdy players lining these walls might be able to kill her when the official chime sounded at dawn.
“Danielle Bush!”
Sighing inwardly at how long this would take, Angelica tried to narrow a suspected weakness in each contestant. She thought of anything but the performance to come.
Ice had settled over Angelica by the time they announced the fourteenth fighter and summarized her talents. She exited the stage with a short glare.
Angelica recognized the woman as a diva gang member by her white clothes and braids. Candice had killed their leader during her game. There’s the family name again, helping things along, she noted. Angelica gave a short wave. “I don’t bite. Don’t be frightened.”
The woman fled the empty waiting room with a quick glower.
“And the last Contestant is...”
The moment stretched into eternity before the speaker blared again.
“Angelica Pruett!”
Angelica felt a hush come over the live audience of bachelors and viewers.
“From sisters to cousins, this is Angelica, an 18-year-old Pruett family tracker. As a member of one of the most brutal clans in the history of the games, I wonder what we can anticipate from this changeling teenager…”
Angelica walked forward. She was the third of her family to come through these curtains to claim a mate. Would she live up to expectations? What about the audience? What did they want most? A good show? For her to be as harsh as the other players hadn’t been? Angelica hoped both were true as she kept her gaze from straying to the small glass box at the top of the honeycomb-like complex. Before all was said and done, a Pruett might walk into that room.
Angelica emerged below the first cage where she would battle tomorrow, a bit stunned by the audience. The constantly shifting mob was already violently drunk and peppered with guards trying to strike them, repeatedly, into obedience. It wasn’t working.
Angelica came forward as her image flashed onto giant screens spread among the triangle-shaped walls. The tension thickened with each light step she took. Even the announcer was silent.
Angelica faced the cameras at the end of the stage. In the rush version of the game, the contestants were allowed to give a short statement.
“I’m so happy to be here. I’m sure it’ll be a learning experience. Thanks soooo much to the Network!” She’d memorized the exact tones of those who had come before her, so much that it was eerie. “I love the complex and I can’t wait to meet all the bachelors!”
Angelica’s sarcasm held the crowd still and silent until she snorted, making those in the front row jump. She pointed at the camera, gravelly voice dropping into a dangerous level. “The others are fluff, but you can bet your ass on a Pruett.”
She spun toward the curtains, pulling the string on her cloak to reveal netted cloth outlining her stocky body in thin nude strips. It was designed in a spider web, as Candy’s had been for her match, except it was the color of skin and gave the impression Angelica was naked.
Chaos erupted as catcalls and yells exploded from the crowd and drugged prizes.
The stunned announcer tried to recapture the moment and control the disorder with laughter. “Well, that is a Pruett butt!”
Another round of yells came in response.
Angelica didn’t have her cousin’s body of scars to be intimidating, though she did have a nice collection. For now, she still needed surprise, so she had chosen to forego showing her weapons. She didn’t want her opponents to be able to account for them–also Candice’s successful tactic. Her challengers had been so busy worrying over what weapons she might bring to the matches that they’d forgotten a Pruett didn’t need any.
When Angelica left the Block, the waiting room was empty. Damn! Candice was ambushed as she left the stage. Why not me? Angelica sighed in disappointment, taking her starless ID card from the console before heading down the hall. Maybe there’ll be an assassin in my flat.
3
Angelica’s tiny apartment held a long green couch, a green kitchenette, and a washing cubby with a single green towel and half a bar of melting soap. Their rulers didn’t care for comfort or cleanliness. She brushed dust from the chipped counter before setting her cooking kit there. It appeared these flats weren’t cleaned often, but at least there were no bloodstains on the walls. The small apartment was far from the digs Angelica was used to, but her family’s wealth had brought her here. Unless you were a criminal, the entry fees were exorbitant and her parents hadn’t given their support. Angelica had been forced to use her share of the bounties she’d collected over the last two years. If she had been caught on the payroll before she was eighteen, the entire clan would have been arrested.
Instead, Angelica had helped bring in a number of high-profile targets and earned her place, but it hadn’t mattered to her parents. Despite all the successes, her parents doubted her ability to survive here. Angelica understood. Before the disease, Angelica hadn’t been rebellious like Candice or even outspoken like her sister, Sam was. She’d been nice. They didn’t understand. That part of her life was a vague blur. All Angelica could think about, all she could feel now, was pain. And there was only one cure.
Angelica’s dreams the first night were foggy, shifting worries interrupted by wakeful periods where she sent pink eyes around the darkness, poised to react. She did it for hours, savoring every thirty minutes she was able to steal. Being a family tracker had toughened her up. Time would tell if it would keep her alive.
4
Angelica woke in time to hear the view screen in her flat click on, signaling the start of the episode. All over this floor, other changelings were being brought to alertness the same way. Their growls pleased Angelica, who didn’t mind rude awakenings and preferred to be up early. Both were part of her job.
“Welcome to Round One of the Bachelor Battles! We will begin by choosing the Luck of the Draw contestant who will have three fights in a row. Viewers will vote on matchups as soon as we have a name.” The reporter paused for the required follow up. “The Network will pick a replacement if our Luck of the Draw winner is defeated. No other official fights are held during this time, but attacks and assassination attempts are, as always, encouraged.”
In the corner of the apartment, a platform rose from the floor and a thin control device slid out of the puke-green wall.
“Step onto the scanner and remain motionless,” the computer demanded.
“Contestants are now being evaluated by a computer designed specifically to determine which of our players has the best odds to win. It’s meant to take away the edge of the fittest, over those who’ve had less training. Their pictures and stats are now showing up,” the announcer informed the enrapt audience.
“Please step off the scanner.”
Thunder cracked outside the dome, sending a line of fuzz through the monitor that gave the contestants an evil glare on the screen. Angelica’s was particularly menacing, pleasing her.
“We’ll have our Luck of the Draw fighter in a moment, but before that, a quick reminder on what our contestants can earn from their matches. Stars are given for each kill, high popularity, and by Network decision. Each star will gain the contestant a guard while in the halls and their flat, along with a fresh stock of weapons, food, and medical credits. Stars cannot be lost, but at the start of Round Two, they can be given away to protect someone else, such as visiting family.
“Okay…the results are ready. We’ll hit the button, and… There. Now, we’ll get the name when the timer counts down.”
The crowd on the screen was unruly despite the early hour, mirroring Angelica’s impatience. Tired sentries marched into the mob with clubs and growls.
It began to rain, making Angelica think of the trip waiting for her if she won. The dust storms currently raging across the borderlands would be followed by a month of steady rain that killed more of those trying to survive there than even the pythons did during breeding season. At the height of the rains, the pythons placed their eggs in the ground, allowing them to populate the southern lands in staggering numbers as the eggs washed downstream during the floods. Angelica would become intimate with that hostile land if she survived this game.
“Angelica Pruett!” the announcer shouted wildly.
“You have been scheduled for a match in one hour,” the computer in her room stated. “Please report to the main cage on time.”
A small map flashed on the wall, but Angelica didn’t need it. Few contestants came here without having already studied episodes to memorize the layout for their game. Those who didn’t, like the huddlers from the hall, were destined to lose.
“Our Luck of the Draw contestant is Angelica Pruett! How’s that for a coincidence? Will this 18-year-old bounty hunter survive the first three matches like her cousin did? The computer thinks so. Wadda ya say, folks? Wanna place a bet or two? Booths are open!”
The crowd went wild, making the announcer wait to be heard. “…and the first contestant our bounty hunting changeling will fight is…the Diva Brawler!”
Angelica flipped the screen off. There was no way she was the most likely to win. Someone had tampered with the computer for this match. Candice had told her it was easily done, but Angelica had chosen to run it fairly. Obviously, someone had other plans. If she had allowed any of them to come, which she hadn’t, Angelica would have told her family it was just the enemy covering both angles, but it was obvious they wanted her dead. There was no way to mistake the feeling. She’d been marked.
5
Interviews were done two ways. Angelica much preferred the screen conversations she could respond to from the privacy of her booger-green flat. The other way required her to show up on the press floor below the Block. It meant padding through the cubicles while enduring shouted questions as she searched for the reporter she was supposed to answer. Like a circus. She’d been to one of those rare events as a child and hated it.
As Angelica shoved through the door, the long hall of smoky, hutch-like setups fell silent…and then the residents swarmed her.
Behind the shouting throng, a single reporter remained in front of her hooch. When she held up her mic, Angelica walked toward her. As she went, the bounty hunter wasn’t gentle.
After two reporters went sliding roughly across the slick, ashy floor, the rest gave her space, but they still hurtled questions like spit.
“Has the…”
“Did you…”
“How long...”
Angelica reached her reporter and spun around with pink eyes. She was gratified when the others all flinched. “Get lost!”
She let red irises come to the front, marveling at her on-the-edge control.
They resumed their places with fearful stares and twitchy glares. Angelica remembered the way Candice had used them while she was here, intimidated them. Maybe they could be put to use for her, as well. She would think on it.
Angelica’s reporter hadn’t rushed over, but she could feel the woman hungrily memorizing every move she made. The reporter had a sharp smirk, knowing she and her toga-clad body got the Pruett first. Angelica disliked her instantly.
Toga-woman gestured her in, arrogantly presenting her back as if she held no fear.
I can change that, Angelica reflected vaguely. She sank into the uncomfortable chair, noting guards standing stiffly in the corners. When Candice had been here, the interviews were done on the main stage. After her cousin’s encounters, their rulers had changed it to the prepping floor and made enemies among the Fourth Estate. These TV-minded gals needed to be in the spotlight to be satisfied. Angelica planned to keep that in mind as she dealt with them.
“Ready?”
Despite the reporter’s reasonable tone, Angelica didn’t expect this to be anything like a calm chat. “You know it.”
It was hard to remember some things, especially when they never meant much to her anyway, and the first interview was uncomfortable as she struggled to walk the line between the new and old Angelica–the good and the evil. She was trying hard to give a harmless impression so when she let it out, when she snatched the diva by the throat, surprise would give her a first easy win. Before the change, snarky comments and snide remarks were ignored, shrugged off. Now, they were a direct challenge and if not for the steady blink of the camera light to concentrate on, Angelica thought she may have exploded before the first match.
“So, we have Angel Pruett here with us…”
She recognized that voice now (strike two!) and made another mental note to handle it.
“As you all know by now, Angelica’s cousin is suspected of being a rebel sympathizer, but I think Angelica wants the world to know she doesn’t share in that lawlessness. What better way to uphold the family honor than to come here, right? Let’s give her a big welcome.”
After the applause and shouts, the smirking reporter went through questions about her family and then the competition. Angelica assumed she answered as the other players had.
“How does it feel to be related to such brutal women?”
“Good.”
“Are you trying to prove you belong in the family?”
“I’m trying to get laid.”
A pause and a frown. Hmm… “You’re ranked ninth at the moment. Does that worry you?”
“Yeah, it’s what keeps me up at night.”
There was a longer pause to her scorn, her mocking, and a deeper scowl Angelica was betting she could make worse. The reporter wore fine, caressing fibers with stunning style and no wind resistance, making the bounty hunter snort at the mental picture of her in the real world. Without the dome, these soft people would freeze in their elegant attire and indifferent social mindsets.
“Why did you enter the games?”
“Sex and blood.”
“No, really.”
“Yes, really.” She’d been right. The scowl nearly encompassed the reporter’s profile now.
“The change! Does the anger make it hard to focus?”
“Yes, when I’m forced to answer stupid questions.” Then again, maybe her tones weren’t so similar. Maybe she was a bit faster, a bit sharper than the others had been. Angelica wouldn’t know until the rankings came out. She needed to jump a level every day to keep a full stock of food and medical credits.
“What do you think about your odds of winning a prize?” the twit asked.
Angelica couldn’t help herself. She was going to like continuing Candy’s traditions. “Better than yours, I’d guess, since you spend your day in a chair instead of a cage.”
The reporter flushed. Not a gentle rise of color, but a bloom of red fury, and again, Angelica couldn’t help herself. She grinned.
Chapter Two
The Bachelors
1
“Welcome to the first match of this week’s episode!”
Blue lights flashed over the arena as the crowd roared. The fighting cage was a 12’ x 12’ dome with a fence frame and dozens of small, sturdy cameras. To reach it, Angelica had to come down the same fenced-in walkway Candice had strolled and she tried hard to emulate that unshakable façade. As her mentor, Candice had reminded her of two things before they split up. The first was to react to each situation exactly as it deserved, which had always been necessary when training with Candice, but the second piece of advice would be most helpful.
“Use the media. Spend the interview blending the old and the new into something on the edge. Then set it loose in the cage.”
As Angelica entered into the arena, she could feel those deadly edges gleaming hungrily at the contestant she’d noticed in the reception hall. Angelica advanced toward the crooked-nosed huddler eagerly. The woman had one minute to bow out, sixty seconds to choose life or death.
Angelica wasn’t surprised when she remained. The woman wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have her own drives.
Angelica slid her cloak to the floor as she entered the ring. Still wearing the netted outfit from the introduction, it made even her opponent gape and gave her the instant advantage. Angelica was the unknown, the high-odds wild card, and she met the Diva in the center with fury burning in her gut.
The brawler came forward like a boxer when the gate slid down. Angelica was tempted to duke it out (she excelled at hand-to-hand combat) but she couldn’t wait. She needed blood.
As the Diva rushed forward, swinging, Angelica ducked, leaning in to plunge her blade deep into the Diva’s unprotected belly. She ripped upward as she spun, wrist-blade slashing again.
The huddler’s hands came up to stop the gaping flood of crimson now streaming from her neck.
“Match to Pruett!”
The crowd roared, some screaming her name, and Angelica inhaled deeply, struggling not to slice the body again. She already loved it here in this small ring of death. Unlike her cousin, Angelica felt no guilt. During the worst moments of the disease, she believed spilling blood was what she was put on the earth to do, and she did it well.
Angelica let the body hit the mat, waiting to let the tension thicken before giving the audience what they wanted.
Her grin was ugly.
2
Angelica’s first two battles had been scheduled back-to-back. She left her bloody clothes on as she traveled the mostly empty, photo-lined halls. In the thousands of images were centuries of females who had suffered through these games, shown at their most violent moments. The Network surrounded their citizens with blood. There was a different arena-like cage set up for each of their violent games. The episodes with multiple matches alternated between the unused cages to allow for cleanup, Angelica assumed. She found it all very orderly and awful. They’d kept the death flowing, with no pause for even the removal of bodies to be caught on camera and frowned over.
No one shrank from her yet as she sauntered along the hall. She had one star, one menacing guard, but the frowns of those she passed implied they’d soon be researching details from the safety of their wall screens. It was something Angelica had already done for each of them when the names had first been announced.
Angelica pushed the entry gate open and strode down the walkway, stepping into the identical cage without sympathy for the bone-thin female. It was another of the four huddlers. Her panicked brown eyes and those shaking, unflawed hands declared she wasn’t a changeling, but Angelica tightened her control. She would not allow compassion to ghost her. She was a Pruett. They weren’t that weak.
“Cage Match Two!”
The dividing bar went down, and Angelica came forward as the blue lights glinted blindingly. The huddler sensed her lack of compassion the instant they locked gazes.
Huddler flinched toward the withdraw rope…
No mercy!
Angelica lunged forward to slam her against the cage.
“Nooo!”
Bloodlust in control, Angelica sank her teeth deep into the huddler’s neck. Her growl of delight was overpowered by the loudspeaker and screams from the live audience.
“Match to Pruett!”
Blood squirted, spraying crimson to compliment her eyes.
Angelica let the warm body fall as she pulled her teeth in, now a hideous mess. She waited for the crowd to quiet, knowing this image would grace the front of every daily edition across their nuclear-torn world. The thought drew a harsh smirk.
The crowd thundered approval. “Pruett! Pruett! Pruett!”
On her way out of the cage, Angelica slid her knife into the air and cut the withdraw rope. She wanted it clear that she would give no quarter.
The screams grew louder, hungrier at her action. Laying low had been the plan, but it wasn’t possible now. She already lusted for the legal violence of the next match too much to pretend anything else.
3
For some reason, Angelica had three guards when she entered the halls and three flickering, golden stars on her ID card. She went to the bachelor cells with only a fast wipe of her sleeve. It was better the males saw the new her, the Angelica who basked in the blood of her opponent. The male she chose would have to be able to accept it. Once changed, there was no going back.
Her security trio waited outside the cells.
Angelica didn’t miss them. The bachelor dorm was only open to one contestant at a time to prevent injury to the valuable prizes. So far as she knew, that rule hadn’t been broken in the history of the games.
Angelica studied the blue-haired female standing stiffly by a chair, clipboard in hand. The woman was the managing den mother and she stayed in the entrance. Her bushy brows and pox-marked skin was hard to read, but her hovering implied she was fond of her charges.
“You have one hour,” she stated.
Angelica wondered how deep the bond was between these big guards and the prizes. Did they depend on the women for everything? She thought the answer was yes and that meant the one she chose would need the same support. The Network trained them to obey and to please, not to think.
There were three more enormous sentries lurking in the large flat and each of them scrutinized her like the threat she was. They wore the usual uniform of silver on black, but each hairdo was a different, vivid color that might have made Angelica snicker if not for knowing it was how the males told them apart. Names were not a big thing here, where the faces changed weekly.
As she swept cuddle chairs and candlelight, Angelica identified the smell littering the air. Italian food. She grimaced, thinking of the blood drying on her skin, but she didn’t wash. To do so now would be taken as a sign of weakness to those viewing them live, but without sound.
Unlike her flat, the bachelor cells were neat and clean. Half the reception hall was taken up by a long table with fifteen settings. On this wide table were tall, white candles and red cloth napkins in front of high-backed chairs. Probably softer than anything my ass has ever sat on, Angelica reflected.
The other half was a compliment to the dining. There were long, silver and black curtains, and small pillows to match the elegant red and black sofas. A number of floor-bound reading lamps threw a gentle glow over the room, but as a final addition, there was an enormous stone fireplace in the far corner, keeping the chill from the valuable males. It was cozy. She assumed their rulers liked the idea of the world believing these men were pampered, but she had been at Stone Mountain. She had spent time among Baker’s escaped males. She knew better.
“Evan, Christen, Alec, Mike.”
Angelica didn’t bother to learn their names, instead judging their reaction to her as they came out.
Fear. Worry. Fear. Fear. Near panic. Almost all of them reacted badly, some freezing in their practiced entry as she searched them for a sign. She narrowed in on one standing behind the others, drawn by shiny black hair draped over thick shoulders. That one wasn’t wearing a cloak of fear.
The bachelor met her searching study with a slight lift of his chin. Wide chest, thick arms, big hands resting against lean hips… The image of being touched by those big fingers lit her up like a torch.
He dropped his head and the spell broke, heat receding. Interesting. Would the rest of them make her experience that with only a look?
The males were pretty. Their pleasing facades and flowing, black cloaks reminded her of the sexless dolls she had played with as a child. If not for their stiff stances and terrified expressions, they might well have been. They in no way resembled the lusty men from last night. Was there no real spark in these guys? No hidden desires?
“May they sit?” the den mother asked.
“Have them remove their clothes.” Angelica observed reactions.
More fear, touches of panic, and then finally, a bit of reluctance, the mother of rebellion. It came from the male she’d already noticed.
“What?”
“Their cloaks,” Angelica conceded.
The men complied without argument, revealing shirts tucked neatly into soft trousers she judged to be new by the way the men fidgeted as they undressed for her.
Bam!
Lightning struck outside the covered windows. Most of the bachelors flinched violently. Candy had told her about Daniel’s fear of the weather. It came from not wanting to burn to death like others here had.
“Tis just a storm,” another den mother spoke quietly from nearby. “We’re monitoring.”
Her words had an instant, calming effect and Angelica vowed to remember to do that for her mate when the weather was bad. She didn’t have many fears, but for those that existed, she wanted comfort while conquering them. She planned to extend the same courtesy to her prize.
“Leave us,” Angelica demanded.
Not a request, all but the blue-haired den mother disappeared.
The woman thought she wanted to take a stand on it. Angelica sighed. She hadn’t planned on a third match today, but she would be alone with these men or thrown out–one of the two.
Angelica padded her way and was satisfied when the woman immediately retreated.
She jerked a hand. “Go, while you can.”
Blue mother fled and Angelica concentrated, trying to reign in the rage. She didn’t want the bachelors to be terrified of her. She needed to be welcome.
She rotated to find all of the bachelors as far from her as they could get, profiles lined up in panicked rows. She locked down on disappointment and gestured toward the long table. “Let’s eat.”
The last one to sit, Angelica lingered, letting her hunting instincts send her in the right direction. It was the same skill she used on runs and she employed it now to single out a few of the more promising from the herd. Her need was rising fast in the tension. What would it be like to love one of them? To hold them during the cold, painful nights?
Angelica let the Pruett come forward. She sniffed the air like an animal, tasting them.
Sweet flowers, heavy cologne… One of them had a thick, coppery scent that pulled her like blood. Another was throwing off odors of sugar and sulfur. Those last two scents would please her senses. What about their attitudes?
Most of them were sitting perfectly straight, with neat clothes, but two had unfastened the top buttons of their shirts, leaving crooked ties and a slightly off-center impression. She liked that.
Chins were down, eyes submissive…except a few of them were stealing subtle glances of confused fear and hope. Interesting, and tempting to have all those ways to relieve this fire now sitting docilely at her fingertips. If only one of them would show a spark!
The males relaxed when the den mothers came out carrying heavily laden trays. The heaping bowls of pasta and meat filled the air with hunger, but the men waited to be given permission.
Slaves. Angelica waved a filthy hand. “Eat.” She dug into her bowl and enjoyed the sweet milk being served with it. Hard to come by, real milk was a treat.
The men ate quietly, carefully, eyes darting to hers in brief seconds of concern.
Angelica did her best to ignore them at first, thinking they were too thin. Perhaps the generous meal was for the benefit of the live, soundless cameras? Were they not fed properly unless on display? Anything was possible in this apocalyptic hell.
The fella on her right, seat subtly inched away, was adorable. Perfect teeth, clear skin, and his smell! Like a fresh rose, but meatier. Aware of her attention, he was precise in his movements, likely so he didn’t trigger her instinct to hunt. Angelica knew aggressiveness was often erased in slaves by denying them testosterone, and she wondered if the same were true of the prizes. According to the Network, these were pure of chemicals, and felt privileged to be here, where each week brought the hope of a kind owner.
And then there’s me. She smothered a Candice-like grin at the notion and continued. To the right of pristine male, came three more pretty faces–two blonds and a sexy brunette with stunning gray eyes. He was the one who had lifted his chin to her. Angelica’s gaze lingered… Next to these were more perfection–seven unblemished profiles. What do they do with the ugly ones? There certainly weren’t any of those here.
She turned to her left. Their curious gazes met, and he flushed. He’d been ogling her nearly naked body. Sweet! She had to hide yet another snarling grin. The change was zinging her hormones, opening the flood valves. Some women snapped when it became too much, attacking before the drugs could take effect. Because of the disease, men were now the ones afraid to submit and be hurt or even killed. Full of these thoughts, shivers of need slid up her thighs to curl around her spine in a surge of agony. Angelica’s grip tightened on the table. Damn!
The males tensed, sensing her reaction.
Angelica forced a bite of food into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Control.
After another minute of breathing calmly, Angelica was ready to take it a step further, testing herself. Part of the reason for slaves to be so dependent on the den mothers was that it eliminated the need for them to speak. The sound of a male voice was like a match to kindling.
“I have questions.”
Angelica’s declaration sent a fresh wave of tension through the group of nine men, causing them to glance at each other for protection. None of them spoke.
She took another drink of the sweet milk, then gently picked up her fork. “Do you sing?”
“Yes. We all sing.”
The confusing jumble hit her ears, making Angelica blink. She scanned the table. She hadn’t been positive any of them had the courage to respond, not even the one she’d caught ogling her, and so it was something of a surprise all of them had answered, at the same time.
“Again,” she ordered.
They were confused, but dutifully echoed themselves, “Yes, we all sing.”
Slightly out of harmony this time, Angelica was able to understand the illusion that had distracted her. It was a defense they’d obviously developed to temper changeling reactions to their voices. Clever. She could order them not to do it, put a stop to each thin shield they tried to employ, but why would she? She liked games. Wasn’t she a contestant in one even now? Angelica grinned.
The males shrank down and Angelica reached for a cup instead of snapping her teeth at them as the need was advising. It would feel sooo good to lose control!
Angelica shook her head at the green-haired den mother, glad when she and her shit-shaded dreadlocks retreated to resume hovering in the shadows of the next room. Wise, Angelica thought. I’m on the edge.
She took a last bite, savoring the meal.
The bachelors resumed their own barely touched bowls. Not wanting them to miss the good food, Angelica lingered at the table, letting them have their fill as she kept testing, pushing them and herself.
“You’re all registered breeders?” They couldn’t answer that question as one. She braced.
“I am.”
The pristine man on her right sounded ashamed, but Angelica couldn’t help his pain. She was in shock at the waves of change spiraling through her. So beautiful! Like a bell, the rolling tone of his voice slid into her guts and twisted the need, sending a vicious flare of lust through her body. Angelica shivered, slamming her lashes shut. If she focused on him right now, so close! she would be lost.
Breathe–in and out. And she could, a bit, because of the fear. It was so thick she could smell it radiating from their perfect bodies. Angelica inhaled deeper of it. Better. It bothered her for them to be so scared.
In. Out. Much better. She eased her grip on the fork as she braced again–harder this time. “Who else?”
The males shared twitchy, darting glances up and down the table in surprise.
“I am.”
“So am I.”
Seated across the table, both of their voices pierced her, and then sank into that bubbling mix and caught fire. But she’d been ready this time and went on. “Anyone else?”
There was silence where she could feel them all wondering if that now made those three safe or wanted more.
“I am not.”
Her words sent mutters around the table that teased, tempted. It was a surprise at all for her to have told them. It was drastically different from the treatment they were used to, but Angelica was after other ends than most of the females they’d had contact with. “It makes control over myself much harsher than what I would be with a mate.”
Another round of shocked murmurs brought blasts of sweet pain. Tenderness coming from a warrior bathed in blood was a rarity in their world. “If I’m too frightening, switch out.”
None of them left to trade places with the few males she hadn’t inspected yet. Angelica would have been surprised if they had, but two of these were now off her list. The relief was clear. “If you love someone, I’d also have you switch.”
Again, no words, but another bachelor was eliminated by the indecision in his expression. It was common for slaves to fall in love with their regular renters and try to avoid being awarded, so they could make it to the 25-year-old age limit for prizes. After that, they were listed for sale to the public and could be bought by their lover.
Booom!
Thunder crashed, almost loud enough to make Angelica flinch. It sent one of the bachelors from his chair to crouch on the floor. Terrified, the shivering skinhead missed her frown, but the others took note and leaned away so as not to share his fate.
Angelica waved a hand. “Go to your cell if it eases you.”
He and his clean scalp were gone an instant later.
Angelica met a den mother’s surprise with a hard frown. “Aren’t they allowed to have a spine?”
The woman shook pink hair, tone giving nothing away. “No. Switch?”
“No.” Angelica wasn’t ready for a new temptation yet. She was still working through these.
Angelica continued with her questions as the hour passed, throwing surprises in forms the men had to answer for themselves. With each stunning blast of their voices, she grew stronger.
“You have five minutes.”
The blue den mother retreated and Angelica leaned over her empty bowl, keeping her voice low. Like her infamous cousin, Angelica was always one to encourage dissension among the ranks. “Singing has a calming effect. All of you together might be hard to resist, even for a changeling.”
Satisfied they would figure out the new defense she’d given them; Angelica slid her chair back and stood up.
Need flared from the bachelors as they stared at her nearly naked body. It was obvious the males had needs, even when they weren’t drugged. Interesting.
Angelica returned their gawks with desperate longing all but two of the prizes shied from. She let the huntress out again, scenting.
That chocolate over hot coals aroma drifted into her brain again and burnt. Angelica inhaled deeper. It was intoxicating.
“Good night, bachelors.”
“Have a nice evening, Angelica.”
Even with all their voices together, hearing her name from them took her straight into hell. Angelica narrowed in on that scent again, breathing deeper. Which one was layered in the delicious odor? Was it natural or a spray? It was powerful enough to twist her brain into complete confusion.
“No cologne next time I come.”
“I’ll handle it,” another den mother, orange hair this time, appeased her from the darkness. She had no doubt the Pruett would win another match to earn the visit.
Angelica swept them one more time, counting those she hadn’t mentally marked off the list…lingering on gray eyes and silken black hair. She liked that one. She would make him speak next time so she could judge the level of heat he brought out. Whichever male drew her most was the one she would choose.
It was hard to leave, but Angelica did, proud she could. One of those bachelors would be hers–after she executed more women who were suffering like she was.
Angelica lingered outside the cell with her guards, still searching for threats while she regained control. She’d known it would be hard, but it was… Angelica grunted bitterly. It’s like sitting at a buffet and not being allowed to eat anything. Damn the old ones who caused this torment!
4
“She’s the one.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s gonna win it all.”
“Remember, we do whatever it takes to get her to go to the rebels–even if the Pruetts really aren’t helping them.”
“Right. We know how to provide a service and the Network gives full medical care to bounty hunters. Get listed as a member of the crew, be friendly, and locate Baker.”
Standing in the shadows, Jason didn’t add a comment to the conversation between the other prizes, still thinking about how controlled Angelica had been. They’d agreed to try to warn the rebels as soon as they heard there was a Pruett listed again, but with this one, Jason sensed that wouldn’t be an easy task. They hoped to manipulate a new owner into doing what was required in order to accomplish their goal, but Jason didn’t think this one would even let a mate out of her sight long enough to attempt an escape. She was burning too fast, which meant a lot of service time…and then there was the clear impression that once bonded, a man might not want to leave her and the infamous family. Jason was instantly terrified of that impression. He already had one ghost who rarely left his mind. He didn’t want a new one. On his own, there was only one thing he could do–run and hope. It wouldn’t be enough.
The other males in this lot wanted to be free, to fight in the growing rebellion with Baker. Jason did too, but there was another reason he had to get out. He would be twenty-five in another month. If males in these shows weren’t chosen by then, they were put into the renter program or sold–usually to a brothel. Those were the same things in his mind, but Jason had something even worse hanging over his head. Katherine Rankin, the top defender, wanted him and it wasn’t casual. He had been surviving her visits since she was a lowly Captain of the sector surrounding the dome. Each time, her rage grew worse. Nearly all of the scattered, drop-shaped scars on his legs and hips had come from her fondness for screams, for blood. Some nights, he hadn’t been certain he would survive.
Despite the Network’s unforgiving hold on his body, his life, they had been unable to erase the memories Jason had of loving parents. His father and mother had cared deeply for each other. He longed for that future. Most males were kept away from their children, but his mother had encouraged their relationship. Jason had loved his father…mourned him when Rankin ripped his throat out. That was right after Jason had found them in the barn and started screaming. He’d assumed her lack of control over the disease had caused his dad’s death, but it hadn’t mattered. He had attacked Rankin in his grief and she’d taken him–in more ways than one. For the fifteen years since then, the complex and Rankin had been his life.
Jason had gone through the normal bachelor training under Rankin’s supervision. He knew how to please a changeling, but he’d never been fully taken by one. Jason was listed as pure, something the other males here disliked him for. He was spared their required time in the renter’s cells, he was exercised better, given more medical care, and he was defenseless against Rankin whenever she wanted him to practice his newly learned skills while she wore the cuffs.
She was so cruel! Jason often suspected she had more than one whore-in-training and he pitied those other males on the nights she and her bloody claws departed his cell unsatisfied. Rankin had gotten the promotion to queen of the sentry food chain by being careful. She wasn’t going to break the rules by taking Jason fully, but if he wasn’t picked in the next four episodes, they would list his number and Rankin could buy him. He looked a lot like his father now and she’d waited a long time to have him.
The other bachelors in this lot assumed one of them would be chosen by the Pruett. Their pretty features and submissive demeanors were obvious, but in Jason’s heart, he hoped Angelica Pruett would be different from the rest of the women who blew through here with their bloody fists. He was hoping she was like her cousin.
Jason was terrified of the duty waiting if he was picked, but he was desperate. Enough to lie to his new owner or service her needs for as long as it took him to escape. He had secrets the rebels might need to know, and in exchange, he hoped they would let him stay with them until he was stronger. Jason hated their rulers. The goal of gaining his life back would give him the courage to follow through with his plans.
From the small window in the door, Jason was enrapt as Angelica ran a blood-crusted hand through those short black spikes. He wondered what her thoughts were right then. Was she wishing she could come back in and snap? Did it matter to her if the bachelors were abused slaves? Would she kill him when she found out what he was doing?
It would make things easier if the Pruett lived up to the rumors he was about to trust his life to–that they were honorable and hated slavery as much as men did. The odds on something so wonderful were slim to none in this new Network world, but the restless fire in Jason’s heart had made the choice. He’d lived another life once, a free one, and he still missed it with everything he was. All he had now were the memories of a mother’s warm hand on his brow and the vague, haunting notes of his sisters giggling in the bed next to him. The fierce determination he’d nourished through the years of Rankin’s cruel abuse would carry him through.
I’ll take my chances with Angelica Pruett.
End of Free Sample
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