Underland(61)

A hush fell over the room.

“You. You want to challenge me?” He put his hand over his stomach and laughed. “Come on, you stand no chance. I rolled you like a ball down a hill.”

“You took something from me without my permission.”

“Oh really? Most love a vampire’s kiss.” He held out his hands to try and entice the crowd.

They remained silent.

“I’ve had better. In fact, one just a few minutes ago put yours to shame.”

The room burst into laughter, and Olivier’s eyes glowed red.

“I will make you pay!” He yelled, pointing his finger at her.

She held up her band. “You’re kidding. You’re not worth it. Here, do you want your money back?”

Olivier looked up toward the ceiling and yelled, “Challenge accepted.”

Kira followed his gaze. A darkened balcony hid observers in the shadows. She couldn’t focus on them with the spotlights aimed at her, so she drew her attention back to the keg. Waited to see what would drop on the table for a weapon.

An orb drifted down from above, probably from the watchers’ balcony, and alit on the keg. The light dissipated.

In the middle of the keg lay a silver cross.

Olivier’s face went white. His head snapped up. “Oh, come on! Now’s not the time to have a sense of humor, Hermes.”

No response came from the darkness.

Kira smiled. “I think someone wants you dead…oh wait. That’s me.” She couldn’t believe her luck. A vampire couldn’t touch a cross.

Zeke had told her to study her opponent and use his own weakness against him. What else did she know about vampire lore? She scoured her mind. Hollywood got so many things wrong, but Ferb had mentioned one thing most movies got right—weapons that can harm monsters.

“Get in line, precious.” Olivier spoke, and they both moved to their chalk marks on the floor. “Never mind if I can’t touch it. I’ll just kill you with my bare hands. Or my teeth.” He ran his tongue across his fangs.

Disgusted, Kira glanced up at the screen and saw that Den had just wagered on the fight. Oh. He’d bet a lot of money that she’d lose.

Not only lose—that she’d be killed.

She spun around the room, searching for Den. How dare he assume she’d just die, she was a fighter? He should have some faith in her. She wanted to wring his neck. Zeke pushed through the crowd, his face looked white in horror. He shook his head and motioned for her to come off the floor.

She mouthed the word no and looked up at the screen. The countdown had begun.

Zeke moved so he was in her line of site and motioned again, this time to her neck.

She nodded and reached up to touch the blood still making her shirt sticky. She smeared it on her hand and watched as Olivier’s nostrils flared.

“That won’t work on me. I’ve already fed.”

The alarm rang, and she raced toward the silver cross. She held it firm, as Olivier paced the outside of the ring. His fangs and fingers had elongated. He tried to swipe at her but missed. She smeared the end of the cross with blood from her shirt.

“What, you think the scent of your blood is so tempting I’ll just throw myself onto the cross? You weren’t that great of a thrall.”

“Oh, stop with the talking and just fight already. What, are you scared of a puny human girl you bragged about rolling so easily?”

Olivier hissed and came at her. One second he was in front, the next he disappeared in a black cloud. Something grabbed her from behind and tossed her across the ring. She landed hard on the floor and slid into the crowd.

A clawed hand picked her back up and set her on her feet. She met the gray werewolf’s eyes. “You can do it!” he encouraged. And he gave her a push back toward the ring. She had lost the cross.

Olivier appeared in front of her again and, with another push, sent her flying across the room. She opened her eyes to see the metal wall coming at an amazing speed. She hit it so hard that she dented it. She slid to the ground and groaned. What would that have done to her without Zeke’s power running through her?

Olivier’s shiny black loafers walked slowly to her.

Something glinted not too far off, along the floor. The cross.

“See, I told you you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” His shoes did a little dance along the floor near her head.

She kept her eyes on the cross. Her fingers moved. The werewolf moved to the cross. She met the beast’s eyes. A look of understanding passed between them, and he nodded.

“I don’t just stand against you,” she whispered.

Olivier bent closer. “Speak up, girl. You’re too weak for everyone to hear.”

“I stand against everything you are. I will not let you take advantage of anyone else, ever again.”

“Why won’t you just die?”

“’Cause that wouldn’t make a very good movie, now would it?” Kira held out her hand toward the werewolf.

The werewolf grimaced in pain as his skin touched the silver, but he slid the cross across the floor to her. Kira picked up the cross and stabbed it into Olivier’s chest.

Olivier staggered back, staring at the silver protruding from his chest. He tried to remove the cross, but every time his hand touched it, it burned him. “Impossible.” He howled in pain and fell to his knees. Gasping for breath, his red eyes lost their brilliance. And power. His pale skin turned even whiter, and he started to fade away. “How did you do it?”