Blood Candy Page 17

  “Don’t give me that shit. You know damn well there was no other choice.”

  “Right.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Did you get into his coffin with him?”

  Candy slapped him hard across the face and then tried to walk past him to the seats. He grabbed her and pinned her against the corner of the tunnel entrance, then planted a kiss on her lips, whether she wanted it or not. While it was a damn good kiss, it was nothing like the kiss with Blake. And unlike the kiss with Blake, she could easily push Jimmy away. They stared at each other for a moment with pure hatred in their eyes, then Candy jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, jamming her tongue in his mouth.

  “I missed you,” he said when he came back up for a breath.

  Candy let go of him and looked down on the stadium seats. She cursed at herself, but then again she didn’t care if anyone might have seen her. No one seemed to be paying them any attention anyway. She wondered what it was about Jimmy that made her want him so much.

  “Felicia and the others are right,” he said, angst returning to his voice. “The vampires are only doing this because of your blood, because of whatever makes it so special. That’s all they want from you, Candy.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said softly. “Why are you doing all of this for me? We both know why. They do it for blood and you do it to get into my pants. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is they are fucking vampires. And you’re more to me than sex. Believe it or not I like you because of who you are.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Say you’ll leave here with me. Say it because I love you, because I couldn’t sleep while you were with those freaks. Say it because I don’t want to live without you. Because you’re the only good thing I’ve ever had in my miserable life.”

  Candy dropped her eyes to the floor; fuck him for doing this to her; fuck him for doing the same thing every other guy did who she let get too close. They were all the same and they all wanted the same thing. Fuck him.

  But she couldn’t break him like that. She couldn’t deny her feelings.

  “You’re going way too fast,” she said. “I’ll forever be grateful to you, but I don’t want us to have a short lived relationship built on adrenaline. We need to slow down some.”

  Jimmy nodded, hanging his head. Candy couldn’t read him otherwise. If he was pissed off or heartbroken, she couldn’t tell. He reached out for her hand. She was relieved when Nigel’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

  “I’m bloody pleased to announce both teams are now here and the game will be commencing shortly. Let the challenge begin!”

  Candy looked back at Jimmy before she went to her seat next to Anastasia. “It will be over soon,” she said. “Talk to you then.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nigel stood in the middle of the court with a microphone, beaming with excitement over the event. The Mullins had gathered near one of the hoops with their game faces on. Candy sat courtside on Anastasia’s left, her legs in a nervous jitter, with the Magister on her right. The groups of vampires were just as excited about the event as Nigel.

  Candy looked over at the Misfits. Jimmy offered a weak smile.

  “Welcome!” Nigel said over the speakers. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome, vampires and blood connoisseurs. Welcome mortal and lycans. Welcome to the show of the century! Tonight, two families will battle it out for the grace of the young and lovely Candy.”

  Nigel stretched out his hand towards Candy and vampires craned their necks to get a look at her. She hid her burning face in her hands while whispers carried through the stadium.

  “Jolly good,” Nigel boomed. “And now to the teams. Over here,” he pointed a hand to the Mullin team, “Balls Deep!”

  The only sound was Anastasia clapping.

  “Balls Deep?” White Paul said. “You have to be kidding me. Tell me that’s a joke.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Felicia said with a laugh. Much to the chagrin of her fellow Misfits, she clapped loudly and whistled. Some of the vampire spectators joined in with a few half-hearted claps as well.

  “And now the opposing team,” Nigel said. “Playing for the girl and the pride of the Mother Island—Blood Court!”

  One of the vampire groups stood and cheered as four vampires came out of a tunnel on the other side of the court. Candy saw Hayden, Rupert, and Vivian, as well as another guy she assumed to be their brother. The Misfits booed, and Candy wanted to join in but she thought it might upset Anastasia or the Magister. The four members of Blood Court walked out onto the basketball court. In the corridor, Candy saw the shadow of a hulking figure walking slowly towards them. Wendi glared at Hayden, who smiled back at her.

  Blake stepped next to Hayden and said, “What’s the deal, Brit? Where’s your fifth?”

  Hayden winked at Wendi before turning to face Blake.

  “Nice name, chump,” he said. “We’ll see what balls go deep after the game tonight.”

  And then the fifth Blood Court member emerged from the tunnel. Everyone’s jaw dropped at the size of the colossal man who stood well over seven feet tall. He had a craggy, square face and by the looks of his teeth he might have been chewing on rocks. The giant laced his fingers together and stretched out his arms, popping all of the knuckles.

  Cooper’s eyes went wide. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “My cousin,” Hayden said with a wicked grin. “Harold.”

  “Greetings, puny Americans,” Harold said in a distinctly Western Bloc accent.

  Blake’s eyes went just as wide as everyone else’s. “That is not your cousin.”

  “’E’s ’r cuzin if I says ’e’s ’r cuzin, you fawkin’ twat!” Vivian screeched.

  The members of Blood Court had a good laugh as they walked away. The Brits had their names on the back of their crimson jerseys like the Mullins did: Hayden, Rupert, Vivian, and Gavin. Printed on the back of Harold’s jersey in huge white letters was the name MEATRACK.

  “We are so dead,” Coop said.

  Blake spun around. “That guy’s nothing more than a hunk of muscle. We can run circles around him. Those Brits screwed themselves this time.”

  Chip smacked a hand down on his shoulder. “If you say so. I, for one, will do everything I can to avoid that beast the whole game.”

  Nigel walked to the center of the court with a whistle in the corner of his mouth. Thankfully, he didn’t have the microphone anymore. He waved both teams over.

  “Let’s have a clean game,” he said, and then he laughed, shaking his head at his own silly statement. “The rules have been set. Four fifteen minute quarters with a ten minute break after the second. The winning team will be the one who puts the ball through one of those basket-net-things the most. Any questions?”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Jolly good!”

  Blake and Meatrack faced off at the center of the court. Blake stood in front of the behemoth and glanced up to his eyes, trying hard not to look intimidated. Meatrack glared back down at him with a grin curling up one side of his square face.

  “I must break you,” Meatrack said.

  Nigel took the game ball and joined them at the center. He put the whistle to his mouth while holding the ball down by his knees in the palm of one hand. Players of both teams spread out, readying themselves for the tipoff. Nigel blew the whistle then threw the ball up into the air.

  Blake jumped up as fast as he could. Meatrack didn’t jump at all. Instead, he cocked back one of his massive arms. As Blake reached out to tip the ball down to Chester, a massive fist slammed into his gut. Blake flew across the court, plowing into the seats, ripping a few of them out of the concrete floor.

  Candy screamed and the Misfits stood and booed. All of the other spectators clapped vigorously, including Nigel. Meatrack snagged the ball out of the air and threw it to Hayden, who caught it and slammed it into the basket.

  “Foul!” Chester screamed. “Blow the fucking whist
le!”

  Nigel stopped clapping long enough to blow the whistle. Blake came out of the seats on shaky legs. He stood there for a moment clutching his gut. Candy knew what was coming from the look on his face. The other Mullins must have known as well—they all scrambled away from him.

  A torrent of blood the likes of which Candy didn’t think possible exploded from Blake’s mouth. The horrible sound of it alone was enough to make her, the Misfits, and the vampire spectators cringe. For a full five seconds, blood erupted from his mouth until an unbelievable quantity covered the sideline. It was like watching a wreck on the side of the road—Candy wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The blood quickly congealed into a sickly black mess. Blake swooned and doubled over with his arms dangling down to the floor.

  “Two points for Balls Deep!” Nigel said.

  Rupert stomped over to him. “They don’t just get the points, wanker! They have to make the free throws.”

  “Jolly good!”

  Nigel threw the ball to Blake, who didn’t make an attempt to catch it. The ball bounced off his head and landed in the pool of blood where it stuck like it had hit tar.

  Chester rushed over to Blake. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

  Blake shook his head and moaned. Blood dripped from his nose and eyes.

  “You have to take your shots,” Chester said. “Oh, man. We are seriously screwed.”

  Renaldo, not looking happy at all, came out with buckets and mops to clean up the mess.

  Blake, with pure determination on his ghastly white face, tried to walk over to the free throw line. He stumbled and went head first over the scorekeeper’s table. Chester and Chip had to help him get into position for his foul shots.

  “You sure you want to go on?” Rupert chortled. He glanced at Candy and winked. “Throw in the towel now and save yourself some shame.”

  Coop and Wendi bristled, but they backed down when Meatrack strolled over to his place for the free throws. Blake weakly dribbled the ball a couple of times and, with blood still on his mouth and chin, he looked up at the basket. He teetered side to side before throwing the ball straight down at his feet. Then he fell backwards.

  “That shot counts,” Hayden said through laughter. “He missed the first shot.”

  “Hey, Hayden,” Wendi said. “Have I ever told you how much I hate you? I have dreams about stringing you up by your little British balls and watching as the sun rises to burn your worthless flesh. I savor the scent of it. I catch it in bottles so I can forever smell your burnt carcass.”

  The smile on Hayden’s face instantly vanished. Nigel watched on in anticipation, rubbing his hands together.

  “Bloody hell she’s saucy,” he said.

  Chester and Chip helped Blake back up to his feet. Blake dribbled the ball feebly while he took aim. He wobbled for a moment, and then he threw the ball way over the backboard. Hayden and Rupert cackled with glee.

  “Shit,” Chester said. “Maybe we should keep him on defense until he recovers. Just keep him beneath our basket.”

  Chip guided Blake over to his team’s basket. Vivian took the throw in, with Coop covering him. Wendi covered Hayden while Chester moved to cover Rupert. When Chip saw that Meatrack was his man to cover, his eyes went wide like a kid confronted by the most terrible monster of his nightmares and he went to cover Gavin instead. With Meatrack wide open, Vivian threw the ball to him. The enormous Russian caught it and took four bounding steps that covered the whole length of the court.

  Blake made a meager attempt to block the oncoming train. Meatrack kicked him in the face as he slammed the ball through the basket, sending the Mullin flying backwards. Candy winced and the Misfits shook their heads. The game had been going for less than a minute and Blake already looked half dead.

  “Foul!” Chester cried.

  “Incidental,” Nigel said. “If anything Blake charged Harold.”

  “He traveled!”

  Nigel tilted his head. “Travel? Where was he going?”

  Chester balled up his fists while Nigel pulled out a little book containing the rules to basketball and started flipping through it. Candy hung her head, wondering if she should try to make an escape now.

  “It will be okay, dear,” Anastasia said, patting her gently on the shoulder. “The Magister has informed me that we may have cause for an appeal.”

  Nigel ended up ruling that Meatrack did indeed travel, so the score remained zero to zero. Blake took his bloody-mouthed, ashen-faced position beneath his team’s basket again. Wendi took the throw in and with a perfect pick from Coop she tossed the ball to Chester. Chester took a half court shot that hit nothing but net. The score changed to 3 – 0. White Paul moved over to the seat next to Candy.

  “At least they are winning,” he said. “So, tell me about Wendi.”

  Candy ignored him. Anastasia didn’t.

  “You’ll stay away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you, lycan. I mean that literally, not as a threat from myself. She will tear your heart out and eat it.”

  White Paul, a little mortified and very intrigued at the same time, retreated back to his seat. Candy missed the blow Meatrack delivered to the side of Coop’s face. His eye was smashed and bloody, but he made both of the foul shots. 5 – 0. Some hope began to renew within her.

  It didn’t last long.

  With the exception of Wendi, Meatrack manhandled the Mullins one at a time. He smashed Chester’s nose into a bloody mess and he uppercut Blake in the groin. Chip ran screaming like a girl with the hulking Russian chasing him out of bounds, and then he punched the fleeing Mullin on the back of the head. By the end of the first quarter, the home team looked like they had walked through a warzone. Candy didn’t have much hope for their 33 – 22 lead if they would all be dead soon.

  Balls Deep huddled at their bench on the sideline near Candy and Anastasia. Blake collapsed on the bench, looking utterly worn out. They were all bloodied and battered except for Wendi. She took up the battle call.

  “Listen up you pussies,” she said, to which the Mullin boys glared at her unmarred face. “We need to play rough if we want to keep up. Chip, you’re the best at running like a bitch, so I want you to taunt Meatrack and keep him occupied.”

  Wendi slapped his arm when he tried to protest.

  “Chester and Coop, I want you to run mid-court patterns. Get the ball to Chester as much as you can for the deep shots. So long as we keep hitting those quick threes, we may have a chance to keep this lead. On defense, stall them out as much as you can. Swat at the ball. Get it out of bounds if you have to; anything to buy time. Just don’t let them hit any threes.”

  She turned her head to Blake and rolled her eyes. “Blake, you stay mid-court and do what you can. Run screens for Chester.”

  “What are you going to do?” Coop asked her.

  Wendi punched her open palm. “Payback,” she said, her face matching the sinister words. “I’m going to make them sorry they showed up tonight.”

  By the start of the second quarter, Blake was at least able to move around, though he was still mostly worthless. Chip tried taunting the ugly communist to give the rest of his team a chance. “Hey! I dug up your mother’s bones last night and pissed on them.”

  Everyone else did whatever they could to escape the wrath of Meatrack. Blake wasn’t nearly as fortunate. Being out in the middle of the court, he got run down several times by the Russian freight train. It sounded once as if some bones had snapped.

  Wendi’s plan worked otherwise. She did her part, roughing up Gavin by kicking in his knee, the sickening sound of which made everyone cringe and gasp. She tackled Rupert and head butt his face several times, leaving teeth scattered over the floor. She tried to tackle Vivian, but the crazed British bastard met her head on and it turned into a fistfight from which she had to run.

  The plan only worked until Wendi became Meatrack’s new target. With Wendi now running for her life, Chip was free to insert himself into the patterns Chester and Coop wer
e running. They hit a few more three-pointers, but it wasn’t enough to make up for all of the foul shots Blood Court had hit, thanks to Wendi’s roughhousing. At the end of the half the score was Balls Deep 62 and Blood Court 58.

  Candy went to the team at the sideline. White Paul and Felicia came down to join them as well. Blake slumped into a chair, his face terribly ashen and lifeless.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Candy asked.

  Coop waved his hand. “He’s done. There’s no way we can keep hold of the lead. Hayden gave up whatever romantic notion kept him from loosing that ugly Russian fuck on Wendi. We can’t keep the lead in a straight up game.”

  Wendi crossed her arms over her chest and gazed at Candy, her eyes narrowed. White Paul nudged up next to her.

  “I played a little ball back in junior high,” he said. “I can take Blake’s place.”

  “Who’s this idiot?” Wendi said, glaring at White Paul with her scary, amber eyes. “You see the hits we’re taking out there? You’d be dead after the first minute.”

  “You underestimate me, sweetie. Put me in and you won’t be disappointed.”

  “First of all, we can’t substitute. Second, you’re not a Mullin. Third, get away from me before I rip your throat out.”

  White Paul grinned. “Dirty talk, I like the sound of that.”

  Wendi ignored him. “Blake needs blood. That would get him right back into the game and we’d have a fighting chance.”

  Candy didn’t like the way Wendi looked at her.

  “It’s the only way,” Wendi said. “We lose otherwise.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Felicia said. “He can’t drink her blood. What about all of that blood lust shit?”

  “Me and the boys will be there,” Wendi said. “We’ll get Blake off before he takes too much. Before Candy . . . you know. It’s a risk we have to take.”

  “No,” Blake rasped. “It’s too risky. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “He’s right. It’s too risky,” Felicia said. “Take my blood instead.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Wendi snapped. “I smelled your piss blood the second you came into the building. Lycan blood won’t do anything for him other than turn him rabid.”