[Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock (33 page)

“Maybe.” Kat didn’t sound convinced.

Quiet fell around them as Alec reached the middle of the rough circle of onlookers. He stood there for a moment, letting tension mount, then pivoted and found Andrew in the crowd.

Andrew stepped out into the circle. He spoke low, but his voice carried through the shocked hush. “I challenge Drummond Hughes for his seat on the Southeast council.”

Shocked silence.

Kat’s grip grew impossibly tighter, her breathing too quick.

Alec had pointed out Drummond Hughes to Carmen. He was a lean, sharp-looking man, made of hard angles and rough edges. Disdainful brown eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked over Andrew and jerked to the Alpha. “You dragged me here to face a farce of a challenge from a mongrel bastard who was human last year?”

John Peyton’s blank expression didn’t change. “Even new wolves are afforded the right of challenge, Hughes.”

Hughes lifted a hand and jerked at his tie, but his gaze found Cesar’s. “If you and your bitch niece planned this little misdirection hoping to catch me off guard, you’re going to be fucking disappointed. I accept the challenge, but he doesn’t deserve a clean fight as a wolf. I’ll pound his human face in.”

He peeled off his shirt, revealing a number of tattoos and scars scattered over his rangy form. He’d fought before, and hard, the kinds of fights that went down in littered alleys and underground clubs. The kind where people died bloody, horrible deaths.

Andrew tossed aside his own shirt and kicked off his shoes. “Yield or die,” he said simply as he walked into the circle.

Frantic murmurs rose around the perimeter as Alec backed away, leaving the space to Hughes and Andrew. Kat’s breath whistled out between her teeth, and her nails pricked Carmen’s hand. Andrew’s name left her lips on a heartbroken whisper that no one else would hear.

Hughes growled menacingly, and Andrew didn’t blink. “Then we fight.”

“We fight,” Hughes agreed, stalking forward. He spat on the ground at Andrew’s feet and muttered something too low for Carmen to catch, his face alight with fierce anticipation.

Andrew’s hand shot up and closed around the man’s throat. He punched him in the face once, twice, then a third time. Hughes hung, limp and already bloody, dangling from the steely grip. “Yield.”

Silver flashed, so fast that only the glinting of the sun gave away the movement. Hughes had a switchblade in one hand, the other locked around Andrew’s wrist, clutching as he drove the knife toward Andrew’s side.

A quick headbutt startled Hughes enough to deflect the blow, and it sliced along Andrew’s side instead of digging deep. Kat gasped and clutched at Carmen as Andrew knocked the knife away and drove his fist into his opponent’s face one last time. The man dropped to the grass in a heap, unmoving.

Andrew turned to face the crowd, his gaze lingering on Kat. She stared back, her heart in her eyes and naked pain on her face.

A man Carmen didn’t recognize rushed to kneel by Hughes, and his face was ashen as he looked up at John Peyton. “He’s dead.”

The Alpha stared at the fallen council member for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. “Andrew Callaghan. What belonged to Drummond Hughes is now yours, by right of tradition.”

“I don’t want his stuff,” Andrew rasped. “Just the seat.”

A ripple of reaction ran through the crowd. Before it settled, before anyone could speak, Julio stepped forward. “I challenge Sam Hopkins for his seat on the Southeast council.”

Not silence, not this time. Outright pandemonium. Someone shouted a denial. Someone else cheered, a sound cut abruptly short when a middle-aged, slightly overweight man stepped out of a knot of suit-clad men to Carmen’s right. “This is outrageous. We were summoned to witness a challenge, not be challenged ourselves. This is outright duplicity.”

“Quiet!” The Alpha’s roar cut through the outrage. “There’s no law that prohibits this, nor are you guaranteed advance notice of a challenge. It stands. Now, will you answer it or forfeit?”

Hopkins sighed, as if tremendously put-upon. “I’ll answer it, of course. We’ll fight as wolves, if someone would clear the field.”

Several younger wolves hurried to do so as Julio began stripping out of his clothes, but he hesitated as he caught Carmen’s gaze. He looked grave, almost sad, and her heart thumped painfully.

She’d seen that look a hundred times before. Her mother had called it a Cassandra moment, when she’d had a prophetic vision or dream that spelled a doom she couldn’t share because doing so was useless.

Julio.
There was no time to speak. The Alpha had already confirmed the challenge, and no one could stop it now.

Alec appeared at Carmen’s side, claiming the hand Kat wasn’t holding. “I think your uncle’s trying to convince himself that the challenge was a bluff,” he murmured. “That he’s getting out of this.”

It didn’t matter, not with that bleak look in Julio’s eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

He stiffened at her side. “What do you feel?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Hopkins had stripped down already, and now he knelt, shifting forms so quickly it was all a shimmering blur of magic. As a wolf he cut a menacing figure, large and powerful and absolutely vicious.

“Your brother’s survived plenty of challenges,” Alec said, his voice steady. Unwavering. “He can do this.”

Maybe she’d imagined it all, a product of her own nervousness and tension. “He can do this.”

Julio bent low and shifted too, though Hopkins barely waited until the magic settled before pouncing with a snarl. They rolled through the grass, jaws snapping, and Hopkins landed his first blow, a rake of claws across Julio’s snout. He yelped and bit, closing his teeth on the older wolf’s leg.

More snarling. The wolves twisted over and over, moving so fast that sometimes she couldn’t follow the fight at all. Julio was powerful, but Hopkins had cunning and experience. More than one feint turned into an attack, claws digging into Julio’s body again and again. Shallow cuts, but they were slowing him down.

One strong rush knocked Julio off his paws, and only a last-minute wrench of his body kept Hopkins’ teeth from sinking into his throat. They bit into his chest and shoulder instead, and Julio howled.

Closing her eyes wasn’t an option. Closing her eyes would mean she couldn’t watch what came next.

Julio struggled to stand. Hopkins aimed his next biting attack at Julio’s other front leg, and he didn’t even try to avoid it. Stunned, or maybe even going into shock—

A single loud roar, and Julio closed his massive jaws on the back of Hopkins’ neck.

Hopkins howled in pain. He shook. He twisted. Julio’s teeth dug deeper, until even Carmen could smell the blood in the air. The older wolf hit the ground, back legs kicking frantically, his paws scrabbling at the dirt.

A loud growl echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud crack. Hopkins twitched and fell still, and Julio slowly released him and stumbled back. Carmen breathed a sob of relief when he didn’t fall.

This time, the Alpha himself bent to check Hopkins, but stopped short at the sight of his glassy, lifeless eyes. “Julio Mendoza. What belonged to Sam Hopkins is now yours, by right of tradition.”

All hell broke loose.

Through the planning and the schemes, it still came down to this—bloodstained dirt and violence.

Alec stood in the spot where Andrew had caved Hughes’s face in and stared at the bloodied ground. Hughes had signed his own death warrant, not only through pride but cruelty. Alec had been close enough to hear the hissed challenge, the threat that had turned Andrew from merciful to murderous.
So which one of the pretty little bitches is yours? I’ll take good care of her when you’re dead.

Ten seconds for Hughes to mutter the challenge, and half that time to die. Hopkins had lasted longer, but his blood also painted the clearing, metallic and sharp, sullying the place that had been his only a short time ago. His and Carmen’s, where he’d stretched her out on the grass and let himself taste the sweetness of her mouth.

The first time. By God, it wouldn’t be the last.

Chaos reigned around him, loud voices and shouts, people arguing or just talking to hear their own voices, as if any of them could make sense of what had just happened. A coup, a revolution—

Not the end.

Cesar met his gaze across the twenty yards that separated them. Hope had filled the man’s face earlier, the need to believe that Hughes had been right, that Alec and Carmen had used a challenge to situate friends or family on the Southeast council. Even now, he looked uncertain.

Quietly, deliberately, Alec stripped his shirt over his head and let it fall. Cesar nodded, then glanced over to where Miguel and Carmen were taking stock of Julio’s quickly healing wounds.

“Enough.” Peyton didn’t shout, but his command quieted the crowd all the same. “Do we have another challenge?”

“Mine.” Alec hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited until Cesar looked back to him. “I picked the time. You pick the method. Do we fight as men or wolves?”
Or not at all?
A futile hope, but in the face of all the violence, all the blood, maybe Cesar would come to his senses.

Cesar began to unbutton his shirt. “We look each other in the face and fight as men.”

Which meant Alec would have to stare into eyes too much like Carmen’s and decide whether to end the man’s life. Clever and cruel—a gambit Alec couldn’t allow to succeed. “You refuse to yield?”

Another short nod. “I refuse.”

Alec hated the senseless waste of it almost as much as he hated how his wolf yearned for it. He was furious at being denied, ready to rend Cesar limb from limb. Rage still lived in his heart, and his knuckles itched to slam into flesh. To utterly destroy his enemy.

He sought out Carmen in the crowd and held her gaze for a moment. She met his stare evenly, with resignation but also understanding. He’d tried, and that was all he could do.

I’m sorry.
He couldn’t say it with words, but they didn’t need words. They never had.

The blow came from nowhere, a dirty punch that slammed into the side of Alec’s head with a force that rattled his teeth. Someone in the crowd gasped, and Alec ignored the sudden murmurs as he recovered from the blow, resettling his weight and facing Cesar.

Fury etched the man’s face, as if being forced to fight angered him. “Couldn’t back down, could you, Jacobson?”

“No.” Alec shifted his attention to Cesar’s shoulders, watching for the minute clues that would telegraph the man’s next move. “You should back down. You’ve got nothing to win. All of the assets you transferred to Carmen and her brothers are gone.”

It ignited something wild in the other man’s eyes. “Then I have nothing to lose.” He snarled and crouched, his teeth bared.

Figured the greedy bastard would miss the point. “Unless you back the fuck down, and we’ll
give some of it back
.”

“Begging for scraps from a bastard like you? I’d rather die.”

Pride. Stupid, reckless pride, and Alec was going to have to kill his lover’s uncle because of it. “So be it.”

Time slowed, and an eternity passed before Cesar rushed him with a roar. The first punch barreled toward Alec’s abdomen, not too fast to dodge but so powerful that Alec could imagine how much it would hurt when he
didn’t
manage to wrench his body out of the way. Cesar was built like his nephew—not Miguel’s tall, lean form, but Julio’s compact muscle.

Pain prickled up Alec’s spine, the wolf clawing for the magic to burst free. The precious seconds needed to rein in the beast gave Cesar another opening, which he exploited with two quick, hard punches to the solar plexus.

Alec doubled over, a snarl escaping that wasn’t even mostly human. Only rage and adrenaline straightened his body, and he slammed into Cesar, exploiting the older man’s moment of self-congratulation. They both staggered back, Cesar’s boot slipping in the bloodstained grass, and Alec managed a half-hearted punch to the man’s gut before agony sliced through him again.

This time he could
feel
the fur just under his skin. If the wolf escaped, he’d lose. Cesar could put him down like a rabid beast and no one would think twice. A shapeshifter who couldn’t hold the form in which he was supposed to fight didn’t deserve the honor of victory.

Change,
he silently begged as Cesar regained his footing. If Cesar changed, Alec could follow. Somehow he had to convince the man to do it, to let the animal free.

Somehow he had to stay alive long enough to do it, even with his wolf clawing him up from the inside out.

Cesar punched him in the throat and wheezed a laugh. “You’re dying to get to teeth and claws, aren’t you? Crazy bastard. I was there.” He shoved Alec away and stepped back, to the outer edge of the circle. “I was there when you challenged your cousin. You’re a fucking lunatic.”

The words could have been lie or truth, Alec didn’t know. He couldn’t remember who had witnessed the challenge, just the pounding rage as he killed his way through the purebred bastards who had thought any human who married a shapeshifter deserved to die.

His breath rattled out, sparking bright lights in the corner of his vision. He couldn’t speak in anything louder than a whisper, but it was enough. “If you were there, that explains why you’re scared to fight me as a wolf.”

“Scared?” Cesar’s eyes narrowed, and he kicked off his boots. “Crazy is crazy, man or wolf. Either way, I’ll destroy you.”

Stupid is stupid, man or wolf.
Anticipation shuddered inside him, and Alec fumbled with his boots, tearing out the tongue of one and nearly ripping off the sole of the other. Barefoot, he could feel the blood drying on the grass, tacky and warm.

So much pain. So much rage. He’d tried everything he knew to stop it, to let Cesar yield. So much for a bloodless revolution. It had started in blood, and now it would end that way, with two wolves fighting to rip each other open.

He could only hope Carmen would still be able to look at him when it was over.

Cesar stripped off the rest of his clothes and hunched in the grass. The change flowed over him, leaving a snarling black wolf in his place. Alec let his pants fall and followed suit a moment later, pain and fear vanishing in the wild giddy rush of power and magic.