ARC 7-Cursed Fates-43 (Patreon)

I bob my head to the angry music as the crowd shuffles around. There are fewer challengers than I would have guessed. Plenty of people are interested but not many want to take the swing themselves.

The members of the Temple are eager to participate, except for Mouse-Tail. Some more than most. Shake is particularly energetic, stretching while watching me with an almost uncomfortable intensity.

The group from Graywatch isn’t showing much interest, the others taking their cue from Arthur and Way far too engrossed in a conversation with Cynthia to bother trying to slug it out with me. Surprisingly, William is showing an interest, lingering at the edge of the crowd. Gabriel is also on the outskirts, but his younger brother has a tight hold of his arm. I can’t hear his whispers over the rest of the commotion, but I imagine he's trying to stop his older brother from doing something stupid. Guess the reward is pretty tempting if they’re looking to take a swing at me.

Kierra and Alana ae organizing the crowd. Mostly Alana, ordering people about with sharp words and gesturing to the far more intimidating elf when people hesitate to follow her orders. I’m sure Kierra would be happy to let all of them run at me, but Alana comes from a dueling culture and enforces order on the chaos. She also pulls aside those she thinks have no business participating. Namely, William and Gabriel, sending them both towards the drink table with a stern glare and a few soft shoves.

When the still damp Junior joins the line of contenders, she turns to me for approval. I nod enthusiastically. As if I’d deny the Mason patriarch an opportunity to embarrass himself.

Order reigns, a line is formed, and Alana waves the first contender forward. The scruffy old hunter Jack, watched closely by Alyssa, whose has a vested interest in the outcome, and the love-struck Lane, who hasn’t left her side since the end of the tour. As he approaches, Talia begins to sing. No ballad or epic tale, probably because I can’t imagine one that fits the mood. Just her voice, rising in falling in melodious notes that are both vigorous and enchanting. Combined with the vicious accompaniment of instruments, it creates an electrifying sound that makes my heart pound. I hop from foot to foot, excitement growing.

“Lady Tome,” the hunter says politely, going as far as to bow. “Fore I try to murder ya, I wanted to say thanks for the booze and eats. Good stuff.”

A small laugh bursts out of me. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry about trying to murder me. You won’t do any permanent damage.”

“Glad you’re sure of yourself.” Once again, he draws his knives. He looks at them pointedly before turning to me. “You’re going to stand still, yeah? No dodging or nothing?”

“That’s how this works. Make sure you aim for the vitals. You don’t have many chances.”

“Two, ‘cording to the wheathead. Er, no disrespect.”

Some taken but I know I’m sensitive about these things. “Two chances, huh? The first must be for you to see how durable I really am so you don’t hod back on the second try.”

“Ah, no worries. I’m going to be giving it my all from the start. Hunting isn’t a job where you hold back.” He slides one of the knives back into its sheathe. Then he approaches, close enough to use his weapon. His eyes begin to glow. “Don’t get a chance to use this much since enemies don’t like standing still and taking it but it’s the best I got.”

“Let’s see it.”

He raises the knife and the blade begins to twitch. “Suppose I should explain what I’m doing while you wait. And because I want you to know what the guilds do. Why they’re important. Guilds nurture hunters. Successfully fulfilling requests is rewarded with merits. Those merits can be exchanged for all kinds of stuff. Including spells. What I’m about to use is a spell created by a former hunter, freely given to better the next generations.”

How heartwarming. “What is this wonderful spell?”

He scoffs. “Nothing wonderful about it. Nasty stuff and real complicated. Too complicated to be practical but can’t think of anything better to take down something that doesn’t stay down.”

“…gonna tell me what it does?”

“Makes the metal swim inside you.”

“What?”

“Ready?”

“I don’t think I—”

The bastard doesn’t wait for me to finish, interrupting me by stabbing me in the throat. He manages to drive the thing hilt deep, an impressive show of strength, either magical or physical. He twists the hilt, snapping the blade off. And then the saints damned steel begins to move.

I choke on my own blood as the blade apparently gains a life of its own and begins to worm around inside of me, shrinking and expanding as it shreds my insides.

I double over and grit my teeth as I endure the excruciating pain. This absolute fucker. He was supposed to try to punch my lights out or set me on fire. Not whatever this abomination of a spell is. Saints, is this what that goliath felt when Kierra was clawing around in its guts? We owe that poor creature several prayers.

I can only endure a few seconds before I cheat by shifting my insides to ooze. The blades continues to cut away at me but there’s no pain without any flesh to tear. I can’t swallow the knife, as my prodigious appetite and devouring ability only applies to organic things. It’s a bit uncomfortable but I endure until the blade stops moving.

The onlookers gasp as I pierce my own stomach with a hand, something that looks far more impressive than it is. I manipulate the ooze inside me to push the knife close to the skin and then shift said skin to that of my original human self. Easily of to pierce with my strength.

I pinch the misshapen metal with two fingers and fling across the floor. A quick shift later and I whole and healthy. I stand and sneer at the hunter. “That was…distasteful.”

Jack bends down to pick up what remains of his blade. He holds it up, turning it back and forth like it’s some kind of trick. “Fuck me.”

“I’d never.”

“You’re a fucking monster to survive that, you know?”

“I do.” I spit out the blood in my mouth and wipe my lips with the back of a hand. “You should make sure your friends know too before we all have a sit down. And you’re a bastard.”

“I know.” He salutes me with the twisted metal before walking off, the crowd parting to make room for him to pass. I notice Bell scampering toward him with a drink in her tail before turning to face the next contender.

Jack’s failure doesn’t seem to discourage Cloud as she steps forward with a big smile. “As impressive as always, sister,” she says. “The hunter did better than I expected. I thought you immune to blades.”

“Yeah, but more power is always the answer. Swing it hard enough and it’ll cut.” Not to mention my insides are softer than my outsides, like everyone else. “Surprised you’re giving this a shot. Forgotten the north already?”

“Oh, no. I’m not here for the reward. Your green mate informed me of the reason for your demonstration. I am happy to help.”

Always such a good friend. “So? What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking…something personal.” Cloud stalks forward, flashing a smile with four canines just a touch too big and too sharp. Not as pronounced as Fox-Ears but she’s well one her way. My mind goes back to the qualifiers and running my fingers through the soft fur on her back. I try to imagine it in other places, pushing my imagination to define how far she’d have to go before exotic becomes offensive.

Huh. I think it’s pretty far. Maybe it’s because I’m a shapeshifter myself, I’m more accepting of inhuman appearances. I think I’m looking forward to seeing the final result.

She rolls up her sleeves and a slight thrill goes through seeing the new fur along the back of her arms. Is it wrong that I’m looking forward to stroking her? Don’t care if it is. It’s my party in my house. Besides, Cloud won’t mind and that’s what’s important. “I’m all yours.”

“That’s how I like it.” She steps behind me, calloused fingers stroking the back of my neck. Then she viciously wraps an arm around my neck and squeezes.

She’s strong enough that I can feel the pressure but it’s a far cry from cutting off my air. I leisurely stroke the dark fur that caught my attention as she does her best to strangle me. Ooo, it’s as soft as I remember.

“You could at least pretend to be in a little danger,” Cloud chuckles into my ear.

“Would that turn you on?” I ask, never stopping my stroking. Not even when she nips at my ear in, growling softly in mock offense. Or maybe invitation. Hard to tell. It is cute. So is the way her teeth tickle me, unable to draw blood.

While one arms tries to kill me, the other roams my body with impunity, uncaring about the sizable audience watching us. It’s only when she gets close to my crotch that someone interrupts.

It's a strange sound, between a huff and a bellow, but it’s as effective as a whip. Cloud immediately releases me and takes aa step back as the next contender, Shake steps forward.

“You can lay with her later, Cloud,” the big woman says. “Do not deny me communion.”