Chronicles of the Uprising (Trilogy 1): Trilogy 1 (2 page)

Her partner uttered a similar speech, remembering to thank the Magistrate, and he managed to sound a little more enthusiastic than she.

“No point in sucking up to those that want to see you dead,” Mira whispered, knowing that Brian should be able to hear her.

If he did, he didn’t show it.

Excited or not, none of their tones and ass kissing to the Elites really mattered. The crowd was here for one reason alone—blood! A roaring mass, they called out for the fight to begin.

The other vampire wasted no time. Brian swung his axe without so much as a nod to Mira.

She jumped back, narrowly missing being sliced in two. “Guess that’s a go, then?”

Sword in hand, she held it out to block while she backed up a few paces. Never wielding one of these before, she wasn’t really sure how to manage. Holding him off and backing away was only going to work for so long.

Bloodlust drove the large male vampire to his task. She could see it in the crazy glint in his eyes. Half-starved as she was, Mira could understand his eagerness to get to the prize, but determination kept her from sinking into that abyss. She’d not give in to her savage side at the promise of a meal. She might be a vampire, but she still had true humanity, for now. And if she wanted to keep it, she’d need to do better than back herself into a wall.

“Easy now,” she said, more to herself than Brian.

He responded with another heavy swipe of the axe aimed at her legs. “You going to use that sword or just hold it like a doll, little girl?”

He was right. Though she had immense strength, the unfamiliar grip of the sword weighed down her arm. She thrust it forward at her opponent, poking at him rather than swinging wildly as he was doing with his axe.

He easily knocked it from her grip with the handle of his axe. It fell with a muffled clang as it hit the dusty ground.

Laughter bubbled up from Brian’s chest. “Stand still. I’ll make it quick.”

He lifted the axe high, ready for the final blow.

She wasn’t going out like that. Sword or no, she could still fight. Without hesitation she rushed into Brian before he could begin swinging his axe. Colliding with him, she expected to cause him to topple. He didn’t. His large body absorbed her force, not budging an inch. She did, however, stop him from chopping her in two. At least that was something.

Mira wrapped her arms around his torso and nudged her right leg in between his. Hooking her leg, she knocked him off balance and rode him down to the ground.

He let go of the axe as his back hit the dirt, and the wind escaped him with a loud oomph.

Above them, the crowd was a wild frenzy of excitement, screaming, cheering, and shouting obscenities. Not sure who the favorite was, Mira couldn’t tell if they were cheering her on or cursing her. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t fighting to entertain them; she was trying to ensure she lived through this night.

With a heavy thrust, Mira was thrown sideways. Her opponent was quick to regain his breath and rolled back to his knees. He patted the ground, looking for his fallen weapon, but Mira was quick to her feet and kicked it away. Another swing of her foot found her opponent’s head. He swayed on his knees but didn’t go down as she’d hoped. She brought her elbow down on him hard, and he crumpled with another groan of pain.

A glint of metal caught her eye. Her fallen sword lay just underfoot. She bent to grab it, hoping to be quicker than Brian. That last elbow had been painful, but not enough to take him down for the count.

He must have spotted it, too. As her fingers grazed the hilt, his body rolled into her legs and threw her off balance. 

 Hitting the ground with a dusty thump, she lost sight of her weapon, and her opponent was already up on his knees again. Cursing herself, Mira scrambled up, not taking her eyes off the large vampire as she found her footing.

Bloodshot eyes gave his feral gaze a more fearsome look. He bore down on her, fist raised, and hit her with the force of a wrecking ball. Weapon or no, he was deadly all on his own. The pain of the impact took her moments to feel, but the force of it twisted her head so fast she thought her neck might snap. Mira dropped to the ground, nearly tripping him with his own momentum.

Cheers erupted again. She caught the bloody sight of herself on the mega screen above. Displaying her failure in crisp detail, it was obvious she was done. Weak, starved, and punch drunk, this was how it would all end for her.

“It’s a good night to die,” Brian laughed as he dragged her up by her tunic. Lifting her effortlessly, he brought her up to eye level with him. “I’ll be quick about it.” There was no sympathy in his voice. Undertones of wickedness matched the crooked grin he gave her, and the tip of his fangs poking below his lips promised just that.

Moving with the speed of a viper, he sank those sharp teeth into her neck.

Only one other person had ever done that to her. Theo. But she’d invited him to do it. Brian, on the other hand, was not allowed to take such intimate possession of her. Pain beyond words shook off her weakness. Theo’s dead eyes stirred her courage. He died at the hands of these humans. She wouldn’t let that be her fate… even by proxy. She could still feel. Pain was her reminder. As long as she could feel, she still had a fighting chance. She had to survive. She would survive!

Brian’s teeth in her neck dug in deep. She felt every pull of his mouth against her throat. He’d drain her quickly if she didn’t hurry. Hanging in his grip left her few options, but her foot was well placed. Putting in all the force she could muster, she kicked forward, straight into his crotch.

On a loud curse, his body began to fold. He threw her with the force of a tornado down to the ground. Wild, bloodshot eyes shot daggers at her as he crumpled to the ground, cradling his balls.

The crowd roared again.

It was now or never. Mira spotted her sword still lying on the ground. She lunged forward, giving her all, throwing wild punches and kicks at him, slowly backing him away from her fallen weapon.

His axe lay dangerously close, too. She couldn’t let him retrieve it before she could brandish her own weapon, and her wild swings were losing their effect on him. Brian was no longer retreating from her.

He caught her fist mid-swing, and she knew she was screwed. He twisted her arm, causing her to spin as he pinned it behind her body.

“I’d have made it quick if you hadn’t been such a bitch about it.” Heat from his breath blew across her neck. Goosebumps prickled down her back, and an involuntary shiver rode its way back up.

Again she felt the sharp sting of his teeth. But she would not go so easily. Throwing her head back, she hit his head hard, and with her free arm she elbowed him in the chest. He cursed again and let her go. She spun to meet him again, but he was already bending to retrieve her weapon.

“Shit! Can I not catch a break?” Mira hadn’t meant for the curse to escape her lips so loudly, but she couldn’t help but feel as if Fate had finally dealt her last hand. For every move she made, he was there to counter. He was clearly the better fighter, and it seemed her death was inevitable. Still, though, she wouldn’t just stand and take it.

She watched him like a hawk. He sidestepped, and so did she. He lowered himself, crouching at the ready to strike, and so did she. Mira didn’t have a weapon, but she’d do something, anything she could.

That wicked smile returned. “Give up, little girl,” Brian said. “What do you earn if you win? A lifetime of this. You’re not that good. I’m sparing you by killing you today.”

She bared her teeth at him. His taunts weren’t worth responding to.

“What? No final words?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes, waiting. He’d make his move soon.

He slashed the sword in front of her face. Everything inside of her screamed “jump back,” but she held her ground.

He took a step forward and she countered, taking a step back.

“Quit playing and do this already,” she barked.

“With pleasure.” He swung the blade out in front of him, more scare tactic than true attack, but Mira wasn’t taking the chance. She sidestepped quickly and turned, facing the outstretched blade. On instinct, she grabbed blindly with her left hand and found his wrist, yanking hard to get him to drop the weapon. He didn’t. His grip was iron. But to his own detriment, rather than let go, he overbalanced and had to take a few wobbly steps forward to avoid tripping.

Releasing his wrist as he stumbled, Mira danced around his body, keeping the sword in sight. He swiped at her again in a wide arc, turning to face her. She was prepared and confidently avoided the blade. Throwing her shoulder into his body, she reached up and grabbed his wrist again, controlling the direction of the blade and forcing him to twist with her. She dug her thumb into the soft point of his wrist as they pirouetted together. With a groan of frustration he had to relax his grip, and Mira was able to gain hold of the weapon.

When they came out of their spin, Mira had the sword. She thrust forward, taking no time to second guess. He avoided the point by scant inches. She stepped in and thrust again, grazing his side this time.

The scent of his blood immediately found her nose, calling out primal instincts. Eyes wide with bloodlust at the sight of the crimson liquid staining his tunic, she swung wildly at him. He dodged and ducked her every wild swing until she unintentionally gave him an opening. He stepped in close, locking his leg around hers, and with merely a gentle push, tripped her backwards. She dropped the sword to avoid coming down on top of it, landing hard on her butt.

He bent down to retrieve the fallen weapon, but there was no way she’d give him that chance. Head-butting him hard, she stopped him from picking up her sword. She pushed his body sideways, grabbed the handle of the blade, and thrust the sword into his chest.

The crowd went wild. Chants of “Death, death, death” filled the arena.

Mira wasn’t waiting for permission. She dove at her opponent’s neck, savoring the sweet elixir of his blood. She drank her fill quickly and pulled away with a sigh.

“Finish him.” The announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Sever his neck and claim your victory.”

She hadn’t planned on killing him; hadn’t thought about the moment she’d have to end his life. She’d never done it before. Never taken a life.

The cacophony of noise, chanting, screaming, cheering was too much. Again, the announcer instructed her to end this. She knew what she had to do, but didn’t want to do it.

“Your life or his.” The finality in the announcer’s voice made the choice clear to her.

Mira pulled the sword from her opponent’s chest. She lifted it high and swung, aiming for the neck. One swing was all it took. Her strength and the sword’s sharpened steel severed his head clean off.

Above, the giant dome roof parted, sending a hot blast of UV light down in a square around Mira like a cage.

“Congratulations, gladiator. Your handlers will retrieve you now,” the announcer said.

Two humans approached Mira, both wearing hoods and black body suits with a wooden stake and hammer emblazoned across the chest. Handlers, she thought. Must be specially trained to deal with vampires. Among their weapons were long lights and large handguns.

One handler trained his light on Mira, ready to turn it on at the slightest wrong move, while the other held out the silver-coated cuffs she was fast becoming accustomed to.

“Time to get you sold.” He said it more enthusiastically than she’d like to hear. Once the cuffs were on, the light bars disappeared. The handler nudged her back toward a door opposite the one she’d come through.

Inside, the walls were lined with cages. The handler directed her toward the cage nearest the door and locked her inside.

“You’ll wait here until you’re sold or dead.”

She wasn’t scared by his mocking tone. She’d survived the arena. Nothing worse could possibly await her now.

Hours passed, it seemed. Other vampires, bloody and beaten but still alive, were ushered in and given cages of their own to sit in.

Finally, after all the cages had been filled, a group of well-dressed humans meandered down into their prison. Eyes scrutinized, insults were whispered among them, and outright judgments were made as they walked by each cell. A large blond male carrying a small blonde girl, who couldn’t have been more than three years old, stopped in front of her cell.

“Daddy, this one,” the little girl enthusiastically called out.

“Dearest Olive, she’s no good. You saw how weakly she fought in the arena. Why not this big brute here?” Her father attempted to direct her attention away, but the little girl grabbed hold of the bars and would not let go.

“No. This one. I want a girl!”

“Dearest…”

“No!” The little girl screamed. “My fighter. Mine! I want this one!” Her shrill voice had captured the attention of everyone in the room.

Not sure of how she felt about this, Mira tried to ignore them, pulling her knees into her chest and putting her head down. Little girls should not know about things like these arena battles. And little girls shouldn’t be allowed to talk so disrespectfully to their fathers. She’d never been so bold. But a human owner was necessary now that she was a prisoner, if she wanted to have a chance at survival. At least someone wanted her.