Changeling Winds: Episode Two (The Bachelor Battles Book 2) Read online

  I’d set out to get it and realized at the last moment that I didn’t need the extra attention it would bring. I took a dive and kept my lower-profile cloak around me like an old friend. It would come off with my first cage match, but for now, it was a shield that I wielded very well.

  The second female who drew my attention was average height and weight, with only her eyes (my dangerous, unreadable black) to give away the threat lurking inside. They said she'd come to win, but I didn't back down or flinch from her Changeling glare the way others in the hall did. I was eager for the first match to be underway and I was currently surrounded by females that I was almost allowed to kill. The temptation was powerful.

  Outside, arriving Mopars and horses were a constant noise as more females came for a chance at this week’s lot of prizes. A rare few could afford to ride the sleek Network train to their match and the sounds of New Network City were loud enough to overpower the murmur of a hundred voices in the hall - the braying of sniffing hell Hounds and the cries of their victims were our background music.

  A small explosive had been detonated in an eastern part of the city yesterday and now, people were being questioned. Rebellion from any source was a growing threat to the secure hold the Network had over everything and innocent blood would keep decorating the filthy sidewalks until the guards got answers.

  The four females I'd already discounted were now huddled nervously near the Network guards that stood along the photo-covered walls, and I took my attention away from a set of familiar pictures as a soft chime sounded.

  “It's three bells and all is wells.” There was an awkward, computer-generated chuckle at the forced rhyme and then the voice continued, “Please report to the Main Arena by 5:30 sharp. Those not signed into the Block on time will be disbarred from this episode. And remember, no battling until the Official Start at Sunrise.”

  There was a short pause, and then another airy chime as the gates at each of the five arched doorways slid open.

  Casting wary glances at each other, the females began to leave the wide-pillared reception area. I hung back, letting the rounded hall empty. It would have been safer to travel the narrow, photo-lined corridors in the pack, where the guards would be the thickest, but I was waiting for the stragglers. And was glad.

  The trio came in together a few minutes after the gates opened and it horrified me to think the sisters had willingly signed up for this. Sickened, I watched the triplets pick the Bachelor Battles.

  The females were pretty and obviously wealthy, but they were the kind that wore a new pair of quartz gravity boots once and then threw them out instead of donating them. They were the kind who flocked to food shelters to dole out holiday meals, and threw orphan girls off their door stoops during the rest of the year. They were the kind who underneath, would do anything, pay anything, to get what they wanted.

  I wondered why they hadn't bought a male from the Network like their kind usually did. Then I recognized the last female to select the Bachelor Battles and stiffened in surprise. It was Chelsea Bush.

  I thought of the illegal news station we liked to listen to between bounty runs, the report we’d heard. Chelsea’s father had been found aiding a group of rebel males that had missed the train hijacking. Upon a complete search, the Bush family had been charged with more than ten violations of Network Laws. The sentence for their mother was death.

  The sisters were here as high-profile outcasts, now poverty stricken from the heavy fines. My guts churned. They’d been sent to regain favor and refill their credits. It was a great deal for their families and for the Network, who would use the famous sacrifices to keep the Games popular. There were a few open calls now for he violent programs to be outlawed and a more fair system of male distribution to be created, but few citizens I knew were listening to the protestors. I hadn’t thought the Network was feeling pressured enough to do something so drastic.

  The sisters turned toward the center door and I sent my gaze to the photos of my family, noting their wild faces and bloody hands. Then again, the Network would do just about anything for ratings… control.

  I held my place until each and every contestant entered, dropped in their IDs and made their final choice - literally. Out of the fourteen I might fight, eight were no threat. The other six? Unknown. I would have to see them interact to surmise more.

  Fighting the urge to roam, to find a distraction during my free hour, when the last chime sounded and triggered a lock on the main door, I headed for my room. No one would come in or out of this section of the complex until the episode was over, until I’d spilled enough blood to coat the walls.

  I knew these halls already, knew which way to turn, and was pleased to find myself next to the very cubicle my cousin had been in during her week of battles. I’d been here then too, kidnapped from another hall. That had been the last straw for me. I’d signed up the same day I was rescued.

  More fun, I thought sarcastically. Unlike my fearsome cousin or my wild sister, I wasn't so hard and dangerous. Sure, I had a skill for picking out weaknesses and yeah, I had a trick or ten that I'd been perfecting for years. What mattered was nerve. Did I still have enough to do this, knowing that my worries on the two-day ride here hadn’t been unfounded? Not all of my matches were a given.

  I slung my kit onto the chipped green counter while listening to that angry voice inside. There was still time to withdraw, until the sunrise chime. Should I?

  Could I? That was the better question, I realized. Could I live with myself?

  I scowled bitterly. No. Even without the family reputation to live up to, there was the cold bed waiting for my return… the painfully empty bed. I didn’t want any of those frightened bachelors, but I needed one. The Change had come and turned me into something else, something that hungered and burned endlessly. I had to try to get a mate, a cure. Even death would be better than this constant struggle for control.

  2

  I stepped into the wide room behind the Block at exactly 5:29. The last one through the door, all heads swung my way. Some of the waiting women instantly began viewing me less seriously despite the famous last name and I continued to give that impression, nodding politely at those who stared and glared.

  Of that group, there were half a dozen. Apparently they saw my high-collared cloak, and then my perfectly blank expression, and recognized me for what I was - a contender.

  “Chelsea Elizabeth Bush.”

  Not bothering to watch the graceful trio move toward the velvet curtains, I tuned-out the speaker and concentrated instead on discovering which, if any, of the sturdy females lining these walls might be able to kill me when the official chime sounded at dawn.

  “Danielle Ann Bush.”

  Sighing inwardly at how long this would take, I didn't waste the time. I spent it picking my careful exit and return through the halls, but mostly I used it to narrow down a suspected weakness in each female. I thought of anything but the performance to come.

  Ice had settled over me by the time they announced the fourteenth fighter and over-viewed her talents. She left the stage with a short glare my way and I understood she already hated me. I recognized her, too. She was a Diva gang member. Candice had killed their leader during her Games challenge last month. There was that family name again, helping things along.

  I gave a short ‘bring it on, then!’ wave, and the woman fled the empty waiting area with only another quick glower.

  “And the last Contestant is...”

  The moment stretched into eternity for me before the speaker blared again.

  “Angelica Eve Pruett!”

  I felt the hush come over not only the live audience of Bachelors and viewers, but also over those tuned-in across the world.

  “From sisters to cousins, this is Angelica, 18-year-old Pruett family Tracker. As a part of one of the most brutal clans in the history of the Games, I wonder what we can expect from this Changeling teenager.”

  I moved slowly into view. I was the third of my fami
ly to come through these curtains to claim a mate. Would I live up to their expectations? What about the others? What did they want most? A small show? For me to be as harsh as the other women tonight hadn't been? I hoped both were true as I kept my gaze from straying to the small glass room at the very top of the honeycomb-like complex. It was the room that one of us Pruetts might step into before all was said and done.

  I came out below the first cage where I would battle, a bit stunned by the sound of the audience. The red-faced mob was already violently drunk and peppered with Network guards trying to strike them, repeatedly, into obedience.

  The Block was a protruding stage in the direct center of the complex, with fans on three sides and the males in a small, well-guarded pen on the fourth. There were thousands of faces crammed into the arena, enthusiastically betting on who would die first.

  I stepped forward as my image flashed onto the giant view-screens that were spread among the triangle-shaped walls and the tension thickened with each light step I took. Even the announcer was silent, waiting to see me.

  As I neared the center of the Block, I stopped, turning to face the cameras. In this version of the game, the contestants were allowed to give a short statement, and I made sure mine would be remembered.

  “I'm so happy to be here. I'm sure it'll be a learning experience. Thanks soooo much to the Network!”

  I'd memorized the exact tones of those who'd come before me, so much that it was perfectly eerie. “I just love the complex and I can't wait to meet all the bachelors!”

  My sarcasm was holding them still and silent and I snorted, making those in the front row jump. My hand pointed at the camera, and my gravelly voice dropped low, into dangerous. “I’m a Pruett. Don't bet against me.”

  I spun toward the curtains, pulling the string on my cloak as I left the Block, revealing netted cloth that outlined my lean body in thin black strips. It was designed in a spider web, like Candy’s had been for her match, except my covering material was formfitting and the color of skin. In the camera glare, I appeared naked.

  Chaos erupted, catcalls and yells exploding from the drugged Bachelors. The stunned announcer tried to recapture the moment, to control the disorder with laughter.

  “Well, that is a Pruett butt, for sure!”

  Another round of yells came in response and I stepped slowly from The Block to found the waiting area empty. Damn! Candy had been ambushed as she moved off the stage. Why not me?

  I sighed in disappointment, taking my starless ID from the console before heading down the hall. Maybe there would be an assassin in my room.

  3

  My room was a mirror of Candy’s during her stay - a long green couch, a green kitchenette, and a washroom with a single green towel and bar of soap. The Network didn’t care for comfort or cleanliness, and I brushed the dust from the counter before setting my pack there. It appeared these rooms weren’t cleaned very often, but at least there were no bloodstains on the walls… yet.

  The small apartment was far from the digs I was used to. It was partially my family's wealth and skills that had brought me here. The entry fees were exorbitant and my parents hadn’t given their support. I’d had to use my part of the bounties I’d collected over the last two years. If I had been caught on the payroll before I was 18, we would have all been killed, but I hadn’t been. Instead, I’d helped bring in a number of high-profile targets and earned my place, but it hadn’t mattered to my parents. Despite all the successes over the last two years, my parents still worried, doubted I would survive here. Because before the Change, I hadn't been rebellious like Candice or even outspoken like my sister. I'd been nice.

  They didn't understand that part of my life was only a vague blur. All I could see, all I could feel now, was Need. And there was only one cure.

  My dreams the first night were vague, shifting worries that were interrupted by wakeful periods when I sent pink eyes around the darkness, poised to react. I did this for hours, savoring every 30 minutes I was able to steal and when the chime signaled sunrise, I was rested. Being a family tracker had toughened me up. I'd soon see if it was enough.

  4

  I woke in time to hear the view-screen in my room click on, signaling the start of the episode. All over this floor, other Changelings were being brought to alertness the same way and their growls pleased me. I didn’t mind rude awakenings. It was all part of the job.

  “We will now choose the Luck of the Draw contestant who will have three battles in a row to begin the episode. Viewers will vote on her match-ups as soon as we have a name. As usual, 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 room, a platform rose from the floor and a thin control device slid out of the grungy, puke-green wall.

  “Please step onto the scanner and remain motionless.”

  As I did, rain began to drum against the rubber roof of the complex and I realized the dome must be open. I hadn’t heard it during the night, and that worried me a bit. How much technology did the Network have? With the secrets we’d learned, was it too far of a stretch to think them capable of having some of the very same weapons that had caused the world to end? I refused to shudder, but I felt it just the same.

  “The contestants are now being evaluated by the Network computer designed specifically to determine which one of our players has the best chance 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 as the computer finishes.”

  “Thank you. Please step off of the scanner.”

  Thunder cracked, sending a line of fuzz through the monitor that gave the contestants an evil-looking glare on the screen. Mine was particularly menacing and I was pleased.

  “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 room, along with a fresh stock of weapons 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 here, and… There. Now, we’ll see the name when the timer counts down.”

  The crowd on the screen was starting to get unruly again despite the early hour, mirroring my own impatience. More Network guards moved into the mob with clubs and fists.

  It was raining harder now and I thought of the trip waiting for me if I 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.

  Not that the huge snakes were absent then. At the height of the rains, the female pythons placed their eggs in the ground, allowing them to populate the southern lands in staggering numbers as the eggs were washed downstream during the floods. It was a hostile land, one that I was set to become very intimate with.

  “Angelica Pruett!”

  “You have been scheduled for a match in one hour. Please report to the main arena on time.”

  “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? The computer thinks so. Wadda ya say, folks? Wanna place a bet or two?”

  “And the first contestant our bounty hunting Changeling will face is…the Diva Brawler!”

  I flipped the screen off in shock. There was no way I was the most likely to win. Someone had tampered with the computer for this match…like Candice had.

  There was no way it was coincidence. I’d told my family it was just the Network covering both sides, but they did want me dead. There was no way to mistake the feeling. I’d been marked by the N
etwork Council.

  5

  Interviews were done two ways.

  I much preferred the screen conversations that I could respond to from the privacy of my booger-green room. The other way consisted of showing up in the press room below The Block. It meant strolling through the Network reporter cubicles and enduring their shouted questions as I searched for the one I was supposed to answer.

  As I shoved through the door, the long hall of smoky, hutch-like setups fell silent… then their residents swarmed me. Behind them, a single female remained in front of her hooch.

  When she held up her mic, I pushed that way. As I went, I wasn’t gentle and the others began to give me space, but still hurled their questions like spittle.

  “Has the…”

  “Did you…”

  “How long...”

  As I reached my reporter, I spun around with pink eyes and was gratified to see them all flinch back. “Go away, now.”

  I let red orbs show, marveling at my on-the-edge control, and they went back to their places with fearful steps and twitchy glares. I remembered the way Candice had used them while she was here, intimidated them. Maybe they could be put to use. I would think on it.

  I turned back to see my reporter hadn’t moved, but I could feel her hungrily memorizing every move I made. She had a sharp smirk, knowing she and her toga-clad body got me first, exclusively. I disliked her from that instant.

  She waved me in and I sank down into her uncomfortable chair, noticing the guards now standing stiffly in the corners. When Candice had been here, the interviews had been done in the glass room directly above The Block. After my cousin’s encounters, the Network had changed it to the prepping area and made a lot of enemies among the Fourth Estate. These TV-minded females needed to be in the spotlight to be satisfied, and I would keep that in mind as I dealt with them.