Dog Fights

Chapter 31; Our Blind Eye

I open my mouth, but don't get a noise out before her fingers curl into my shirt. "Such a young heart like yours," she says, whistling to herself before leaning closer, "I bet that'd taste so good. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a traditional meal? A full ritual? I bet you'd be perfect."

Jay slips off the seat, sliding her hand all the way down my leg as she crouches on the floor in front of me. Her clothes are already torn and dirty, as if she expects to ruin them soon.

She grips my ankle, forcing a noise from my throat as she squeezes and lifts my leg into the air. I yelp as I slide back, unable to support myself as I fall in the space between the metal seats. I can already feel a bruise forming on my spine as she picks at the bandage wrapped around my right foot.

"I can just feel the blood rushing through your veins," she murmurs, running a finger down the arch of my foot. I can't feel it, but that doesn't make the situation any better.

"I'm just so, hungry." She grins widely. "Maybe I can just get one bite?"

"Jay, what did I tell you about touching my property?"

The woman looks up, tilting her head as she smiles. "I'm not doing any harm," she says innocently, releasing my foot and letting it fall, "just getting him a little wound up."

Orgon tips his hat, nudging Jay away with his shoe. "I appreciate the contribution, but if you touch him one more time I'll have no choice but to put a silver bullet straight through your heart. He's more valuable to me than you are."

I hesitate as he sits down beside me, gripping my bicep and effortlessly pulling me back up into my seat. Both his strength and his tone terrify me.

Jay only pouts her lip, finally pushing back up to her feet. "It's just a little fun, Orgon," she says, climbing the bleachers like stairs so she can return to her buddies. I shift my right foot anxiously as she disappears from my view.

"So, kid," Orgon says as he tips back a brown bottle, taking a few sips before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "I know you're tech savvy, so how much of these fights have you seen online?"

I flex my fists behind my back, trying to keep blood flowing so my fingers won't go numb. "I've just seen advertisements," I say, gathering the mental strength to talk to the man. If I spent the rest of my life with him I don't think I'd ever get used to the vibes he gives off.

"Yeah, I guess videos would defeat the purpose," he says, looking through the chain net and down to the floor. The spectator seats are almost completely filled, and the lights had been turned on for the arena. The ring of bleachers are dark and shadowed.

"The opening acts are going to start soon," Orgon says, glancing down at his watch. In the reflection of the glass I can see his glowing irises, shining clear in the dark.

I look up, scanning the swarming seats behind the rope separating them and the reserved area. Countless red and yellow eyes shimmer in the shadows, blinking and bouncing with the restlessness of the crowd. It's getting hot and stuffy with the rising number of spectators.

"Have you ever been to a strip club, kid?" Orgon asks, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. The chattering of the audience rolls excitedly for a second as a few buff looking men carry out five different round platforms. The heavy wood settles into the sand with little puffs of dust as the workers let them drop, returning back into the large doors they came from. The metal closes with a rattle.