him?”
“No, but you should be.”
“Why?”
“You garnered attention.”
“Not the right kind, obviously. And not enough.”
Whoa. Leah.
That answer was a distinct clue. Athlerod wanted attention. He didn’t care what kind he got, negative or positive. Both were signs of a Borderline Personality Disorder. There was a root cause. Since he was vampiric, she could probably rule out substance abuse or medical condition. That left traumatic event. Now, she just needed to find out what it was.
“You wish attention? Is that why you took on forty-one fighters, one-at-a-time?”
“I took on forty- two fighters! All at the same time! Why do you think I got arrested?”
“You are not under arrest.”
Athlerod straightened. Frowned. “What do you call this?”
“A bidding war. With you as the prize.”
“What?”
“You don’t understand?”
Athlerod shook his head.
“Your performance got attention, all right. You have eight Fight Managers haggling over you. The World Wrestling Federation is on its way here with a contract offer, and at least two countries are sending representatives from their Olympic Committees.”
“That’s stupid. The Czech Republic already has me.”
“They got out-bid early. Now, they’re just holding out for the highest bidder.”
“Really? That’s...fantastic news! Better than I hoped! I’ll be famous! Beethan’s Hunters can’t possibly fail to hear about me!”
“Organized sports have medical tests.”
“So?”
“You are a vampire. Your blood cannot be tested!”
“Better and better!”
“Stupid fool! You are part of a covert organization. There are consequences to what you have done.”
“Are you here to carry them out?”
“If necessary.”
“Good. That works, too.”
The man lifted his sword and this time he slashed the air with it. Leah was looking at a severe case of Intermittent Explosive Disorder, brought on to cause harm – mostly to himself. But...the root question was why?
Why?
Anso failed to take the bait again. He looked at the Viking for long moments and then sighed. “We really don’t have time for this.”
“Make time!”
Athlerod lunged forward and swung his sword. Leah’s cry was cut off by the ringing sound of blade upon blade. Anso had freed his weapon with a lightning-quick move and he used it to defend. Countless times. Against multiple blows. And then he attacked. Leah hadn’t stayed around to watch the first of it. She’d grabbed up her skirts, raced to the concrete blocks, climbed them, and then stood in the chair. She was out of danger, but situated perfectly for observing. The men looked equal on so many fronts: Fitness level. Training. Expertise with a sword. They continually hammered at each other, their movements encompassing the entire span of floor space. Muscles strained. Grunts filled the room. They were interspersed with the continual ringing sound of steel against steel. That was loud. It echoed.
And this was getting serious.
Anso was going to win. She watched the battle tip his way. He had experience. It showed. His blows began to back up the Viking. And then he used his hilt for hitting. Athlerod took a blow to his arm that stunned. His sword arm lowered. That gave Anso an opening for a blow to the Viking’s chin.
The man went down heavily. Onto his back. Although only a hint of a thudding sound accompanied it. Anso was atop him, a knee on the Viking’s chest and his blade pressed against the other man’s throat.
“Wait! Anso! No! Wait!”
Stupid dress .
Leah grabbed the wad of velvet and jumped down. Her feet stung. Her thighs jiggled. Her breasts nearly fell from the bodice. She ignored all of that to reach Anso. She grabbed his sword arm with both hands and hung on.
“Please. Wait!”
Anso turned his head to regard her. He didn’t release the Viking. And Athlerod wasn’t any help. He looked up at her with vivid ice-blue eyes. Then he winked. And spoke. His throat immediately welled blood
“No, but you should be.”
“Why?”
“You garnered attention.”
“Not the right kind, obviously. And not enough.”
Whoa. Leah.
That answer was a distinct clue. Athlerod wanted attention. He didn’t care what kind he got, negative or positive. Both were signs of a Borderline Personality Disorder. There was a root cause. Since he was vampiric, she could probably rule out substance abuse or medical condition. That left traumatic event. Now, she just needed to find out what it was.
“You wish attention? Is that why you took on forty-one fighters, one-at-a-time?”
“I took on forty- two fighters! All at the same time! Why do you think I got arrested?”
“You are not under arrest.”
Athlerod straightened. Frowned. “What do you call this?”
“A bidding war. With you as the prize.”
“What?”
“You don’t understand?”
Athlerod shook his head.
“Your performance got attention, all right. You have eight Fight Managers haggling over you. The World Wrestling Federation is on its way here with a contract offer, and at least two countries are sending representatives from their Olympic Committees.”
“That’s stupid. The Czech Republic already has me.”
“They got out-bid early. Now, they’re just holding out for the highest bidder.”
“Really? That’s...fantastic news! Better than I hoped! I’ll be famous! Beethan’s Hunters can’t possibly fail to hear about me!”
“Organized sports have medical tests.”
“So?”
“You are a vampire. Your blood cannot be tested!”
“Better and better!”
“Stupid fool! You are part of a covert organization. There are consequences to what you have done.”
“Are you here to carry them out?”
“If necessary.”
“Good. That works, too.”
The man lifted his sword and this time he slashed the air with it. Leah was looking at a severe case of Intermittent Explosive Disorder, brought on to cause harm – mostly to himself. But...the root question was why?
Why?
Anso failed to take the bait again. He looked at the Viking for long moments and then sighed. “We really don’t have time for this.”
“Make time!”
Athlerod lunged forward and swung his sword. Leah’s cry was cut off by the ringing sound of blade upon blade. Anso had freed his weapon with a lightning-quick move and he used it to defend. Countless times. Against multiple blows. And then he attacked. Leah hadn’t stayed around to watch the first of it. She’d grabbed up her skirts, raced to the concrete blocks, climbed them, and then stood in the chair. She was out of danger, but situated perfectly for observing. The men looked equal on so many fronts: Fitness level. Training. Expertise with a sword. They continually hammered at each other, their movements encompassing the entire span of floor space. Muscles strained. Grunts filled the room. They were interspersed with the continual ringing sound of steel against steel. That was loud. It echoed.
And this was getting serious.
Anso was going to win. She watched the battle tip his way. He had experience. It showed. His blows began to back up the Viking. And then he used his hilt for hitting. Athlerod took a blow to his arm that stunned. His sword arm lowered. That gave Anso an opening for a blow to the Viking’s chin.
The man went down heavily. Onto his back. Although only a hint of a thudding sound accompanied it. Anso was atop him, a knee on the Viking’s chest and his blade pressed against the other man’s throat.
“Wait! Anso! No! Wait!”
Stupid dress .
Leah grabbed the wad of velvet and jumped down. Her feet stung. Her thighs jiggled. Her breasts nearly fell from the bodice. She ignored all of that to reach Anso. She grabbed his sword arm with both hands and hung on.
“Please. Wait!”
Anso turned his head to regard her. He didn’t release the Viking. And Athlerod wasn’t any help. He looked up at her with vivid ice-blue eyes. Then he winked. And spoke. His throat immediately welled blood
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