Wind Therapy - A.J. Downey Page 0,46

his expression thoughtful – blue eyes calculating in the torchlight.

Our attention was soon taken up by the animated club brother from parts unknown in the middle of the ring of torches. He was, apparently, the master of ceremonies and de facto fight announcer for the evening.

…let the games begin, I guess.

I had hoped that by eating something, my energy levels would come up some, but that hadn’t been the case. I didn’t think I was going to be good for many fights, but I really did want to see Fenris in action. I had been curious about the actual abilities of the men who rode through my little slice of life for a very long time. Though they exuded danger and cunning, I’d never had the occasion to see it for myself just how much of it was true versus just them fronting… if they ever were fronting.

I scraped my bottom lip between my teeth as two men from parts unknown entered the ring for, as the announcer had declared, was to be a good old-fashioned street fight.

There wasn’t any telling where they were from as they’d removed their vests and stood, hands lightly wrapped for support, but otherwise bare from the waist up.

I’d seen some bare-knuckled boxing matches between some of the boys at home, but that didn’t hold a candle to the savagery that unfolded in front of me now. These guys didn’t stop. Not until one of them was unconscious in the dirt.

Cheers went up, fists rose into the dark, some of them with money clutched in them as bets were won and surrendered all around me.

My mouth was dry as Fenris stepped between two torches and into the circle of firelight. He held a big hunting knife in one of his big paws and his skin glistened with sweat as he jogged slightly in place and swung his big arms back, stretching and limbering up.

“He’s lucky, he won’t end up like me,” an older guy on the other side of Mav said.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” Maverick asked without looking at him. He held up a hand and flexed his fingers out, one of them refusing to extend.

“Y’see that? Cut my tendon clean in half in a knife fight like this. It ain’t worked right since.”

I bit my lips together and turned my attention back to Fen. I’d had faith that even though he might not win, that no permanent harm would befall him… up until now. Now, I was starting to doubt that very much.

The older guy with the messed-up finger laughed at the expression on my face as the crowd surged in a little tighter, bets being called, wagers set, and the two fighters, Fen and Reaver, who held a sharp looking little stiletto in one hand, squared off.

Heart in my throat, Reaver lunged, lightning quick, in Fen’s direction. Fen leaped back and an awkward dance commenced between the two, neither one of them taking their eyes off the other, both of them a study in concentration.

The crowd cheered and jeered in equal measure but both fighters were locked inside their own heads, calculating, feinting; each trying to psych the other out and score a slick or a scratch against the other.

It was breathtaking to watch, a savage dance, a terrible beauty about it. Their athleticism undeniable, I suddenly understood the appeal of all those long-ago gladiator fights in Rome for the people’s entertainment.

I held my breath, engrossed in the primal back and forth between the two men, gasping as each caught the other’s wrist to hold the blades from them. Fen grinned savagely and head butted Reaver in the nose with a sickening crunch. Reaver’s head snapped back, blood spurting from his nose and coating his teeth. His grinned a feral grin and I feared for them both. That neither would be able to contain whatever darkness that lived inside the other. That whoever won wouldn’t be able to stop.

I found myself watching between my fingers, covering my eyes like with a horror movie yet unable to tear my eyes completely away.

The announcer shouted that it didn’t count. That the first blood must be drawn by blade. The two competitors separated, and my heart edged into my throat when they circled again.

I caught myself praying for Fen. The other man, Reaver, was so fast. Moving in a blur, Fen was wearing down and then it happened. Fen leaped back, Reaver pressed on, and with a wide arcing slash he caught Fenris with the tip