Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

and energy beams stabbed out of the Grendel's eyes, crackling on the air. Rose ducked under them at the last second, following her sword in.
    One beam clipped the side of her head and set her hair on fire. She ignored it, boring in when the Grendel least expected it, and struck with all her strength at the creature's exposed throat. Her blade cracked the thin layer of armor and dug deeply in. The Grendel staggered backwards, and Rose went after it. She jerked her sword free and struck again and again, hacking at the throat like a forester with a stubborn tree; and the Grendel fell. It hit the sands hard, its arms waving feebly. Rose stood over it, grinning fiercely, and brought her sword down with all her strength behind it. The blade sheared clean through what was left of the Grendel's neck, and the heavy head rolled away across the bloody sands, its mouth still working. The headless body kicked and thrashed, but Rose ignored it, calmly beating out the flames in her hair with her bare hand.
    Brett dropped back into his seat, limp and exhausted. Finn hadn't stirred. Brett had to wait a while for his breathing and heart to steady, and then he looked at Finn. "How . . . how was that possible?"
    "Easy," said Finn. "She cheated."
    Brett gaped at him in disbelief. "She what?"
    "Her sword has a monofilament edge," said Finn. "Borderline, so the protective energy field wouldn't show. But you could cut through a starship's hull with a blade like that. Just the edge she needed. Even Grendel armor has its limits. All Rose had to do was get in close enough, and wear it down, till she got
    her chance. I'm impressed. Brave and smart; an excellent combination. We'll give her time to heal up in the regen tank and settle down, and then I think we'll drop in to pay our regards."
    Out on the sands, Rose Constantine held the severed head of the Grendel above her, so that the blood fell down upon her face. She drank the blood, and smiled. Brett shuddered.
    "Hell, Finn; even you didn't do that."
    Finn and Brett met with the Wild Rose in her private quarters, deep under the bloody sands. A lot of the full-time gladiators preferred to live there. Arena Security kept them secure from the attentions of the media and the fans, and they liked to be close to their work, among people who understood them. The living quarters tended to have a high turnover rate, for various reasons, but no one ever mentioned that.
    Rose stayed there because she had nowhere else to go. She lived in a simple cell; four stone walls surrounding a bed, a few sticks of furniture, and precious little else.
    She lay back on her bed, utterly relaxed, like a great cat after feasting on its kill, while Finn sat easily on the only chair. His name and reputation had been enough to secure an audience, and the two of them studied each other openly, both of them seemingly fascinated by the other. Brett hovered nervously by the door. He felt safer with an exit close at hand. Entering Rose's cell had felt very like invading the lair of some wild animal. Seen up close, she was even more disturbing. Like the kind of female that would devour its partner after mating.
    She had a stark Gothic sensuality, a horrid attraction, like the allure of the razor's edge for a man contemplating suicide.
    "So," he said finally, since neither Finn nor Rose seemed interested in breaking the silence. "Is this the best the Board could do for you? No decent furniture, no real comforts? They couldn't even manage a minibar? You need an agent, Rose."
    "I have everything I need," said Rose, still looking at Finn. Her voice was deep, but in no way mannish.
    Calm rather than cold, but empty of any emotion Brett could recognize. "I don't want anything else. No frills, no comforts; they're just distractions. Only the Arena can satisfy me. Only when I'm fighting do I really come alive. For me, violence is sex. Murder is orgasm. Lesser pleasures don't interest me." She looked at Brett for the first time, and the only thing that kept him from running was the fear that she would chase him. Her dark eyes looked right through him, and found him nothing, nothing at all. Part of him was relieved. "I believe in being honest, but it's surprising how many people don't believe the things I tell them.
    People like me aren't supposed to exist. But I am what I am, and I delight in it. I'm never happier than when my hands are dripping with the blood of a slaughtered enemy." She looked back at Finn, and Brett started breathing