Phanes leaned toward me. “I know this is difficult for you,” he said in a low tone. “But if you interfere in the trials, your life and his life will be forfeit. Remember that.”
I didn’t reply. My gaze was all for Ian as I searched his features to see if I could detect anything that showed whether Ashael had been able to pass on my message to him.
Nothing but a cool mask stared back at me. The carved statues around the arena emitted more emotion than he did.
I ground my teeth. I couldn’t give away the game to Phanes by saying what I wanted to say to Ian. Phanes would either call it “interference” in the trials, or refuse to let me watch them.
But, oh, being this close to Ian and not being able to verbalize any of the emotions bursting within me was torturous!
Then, to my surprise, Ian bowed in a courtly way once he reached the top of the stairs.
“Long ago in my world, knights often gave ceremonial tokens to ladies before a battle or competition,” he said, not even looking at Phanes. “In honor of my forefathers’ custom, I now lay this token at your feet, my lady.”
With that, he unfurled the flag and set its pole on the cool, white stone at my feet—
I gasped.
Not a flagpole. Cain’s horn, the only weapon that could kill any creature it pierced. Ian was giving it to me before his fight to the death against a Minotaur? Why?
I stared at the horn. The last time I’d seen it, it had reformed itself to wrap around Ian’s knuckles. Another of the horn’s many dangerous qualities was the ability to form any shape its owner desired. Now, the ancient weapon was as straight as a kudu bull horn could be, which meant that it had a double curve in the middle of its swordlike length.
I recovered from my shock to glare at Ian. Why would he do this? The horn was his only guarantee that he’d survive!
Phanes also gave a quizzical look at the dark, highly polished object.
“Why would you think she’d want such a thing?”
“Because I know how much she enjoys having my horn in her hands,” Ian replied in such a bland tone, it took Phanes a second to translate the double entendre.
“By the gods, you have nerve,” Phanes said, with a short laugh. “Don’t fear, though. With or without that poor excuse for a present, her hands won’t be empty for long.”
“Will you two stop?” I glared at both of them, and then stepped back from the horn. “You know I can’t accept this, Ian, so please. Take it.”
Take it, take it, take it! my look screamed at him. If it wouldn’t blow the back of my head off, I’d grab the horn and shove it into Ian’s hands. But Ian was the only one who could pick it up without activating the horn’s defensive mechanism, and I wanted my brains in my skull. Not splattered all over Phanes’s stone version of an owner’s box.
Ian only turned and descended the steps, giving me a little wave over his shoulder.
“Don’t want it? Then keep watch over it for me. This shouldn’t take long.”
“You’re right. It shouldn’t,” Phanes said with dark expectancy.
If he dies, I will mop the netherworld with your screaming soul! my other half promised.
I agreed with her. Or me. Whatever.
Gods, I’d need so much therapy if Ian and I survived long enough to make it back to our world. That was an issue for another day, though. Until then, I needed the icy resolve that came from embracing my more sociopathic side.
It only took moments to feel more like her than myself, and she wasn’t nearly as worried as I was. In fact, she was almost anticipatory as Phanes raised his hand and shouted, “Challenger, face the champion!”
The gong behind me boomed once more. This time I barely noticed the resounding blast to my ears, and I didn’t spare Helena a glance for her second petty vengeance. My focus was on Ian, strolling toward the Minotaur that bared his teeth at him while snorting like a bull about to charge.
Simple beast, my other half thought. You are no match for my sorcerer.
I latched on to her contemptuous confidence, until I could watch without feeling like my long-dormant heart was about to start beating again from sheer anxiety.
Phanes rose, waiting until every eye was on him before he spoke. “Challenger, if you carry the baton to the end of the first track, then throw the discus past the required point at the end of that track, and then finally, pierce the pomegranate with your arrow, you will have won the trials. However, you cannot utilize any abilities beyond your own strength and speed, or you will have cheated, and your life will be forfeit.”
Sonofabitch! What was Ian supposed to use against the Minotaur? Cutting insults?
“The vampire must also be allowed to use his fangs and healing abilities,” I said, rising to my feet as well. “Rapid healing is automatic for vampires, and fangs are as much a part of their species as horns are for a Minotaur.”
Ian saluted me, while Phanes’s mouth tightened. The side-eye Phanes then gave me said that he didn’t like being corrected, especially in public.
“Of course those are allowed, too,” Phanes finally said.
Ian glanced at Naxos. “What’s this bloke supposed to do while I’m busy running, throwing and shooting things?”
Phanes’s smile made his next words unnecessary. I knew death when I saw it, no matter what package it came wrapped in.
“The baton, disc, and bow all belong to Naxos, so he will be defending his property. You only get to use them if you are able to take them from him to complete the three trials . . . and no challenger in over three thousand years has been able to do that.”
Chapter 11
Naxos pawed the ground again before making a sound like a bull’s snort combined with a human’s roar. The crowd cheered when they heard it, and Phanes smiled.
“Let the contest begin!”
Naxos charged Ian at full speed. Ian didn’t move. My nails dug into my thighs as my darkness pounded against my skin, demanding to be freed.
I held it down with all my strength, silently screaming, Move, dammit, move! at Ian.
He didn’t.
Naxos’s hooves kicked up patches of earth as he ran faster. He bent his head, pointing those deadly, sharp horns at Ian’s midsection. My nails dug in harder, and I felt a scream rise. Why wasn’t Ian moving? Why? Those horns would shred him—
Ian jumped high right before Naxos’s horns tore into him. The Minotaur ran beneath him, howling as he realized he’d been tricked. Naxos tried to swing around, but Ian used his downward momentum to full advantage, and launched a two-legged kick right into Naxos’s hindquarters.
The Minotaur sprawled forward face first, horns plowing deep into the earth. The sudden resistance from his horns versus his far heavier body still going forward at full speed had brutal results. The crack! as Naxos’s neck broke and his body pitched over his head was loud enough to reach me.
“Yes!” I shouted.
Ian heard that and grinned, saluting me again. Then, he ran over to where Naxos had left the baton, picked it up, and ran it back to the end of the track.
By the time Ian picked up the discus, Naxos’s neck had healed, and his body was no longer grotesquely folded over the wrong way. He got up, shook his head as if verifying that it was on the right way now, and then glared at Ian while literal steam came from his nostrils.