Nightfall

Nightfall

A Sanguine Universe origin story of Desire and Power

By James Golden

The Penthouse suite of Kathryn Nyght

CEO of Nyght Acquisitions

Downtown Los Angeles, California

5:00 AM

Before the alarm made a single sound, Kathryn was awake, her sharp, focused mind zeroing in on the task at hand. She rose, called to Alexa to start her morning routine, and then jotted down the contents of her dream in the black journal waiting, open, on the bedside table.

"The Arena. Again. Same as always", Kathryn muttered as she wrote, shaking off the lingering remnants of fugue.

The speakers in her living room began to play "Hooked on a Feeling" by Blue Suede, the first part of her morning routine. The echo of the song's rhythmic chanting and clean, charismatic vocals pulled a smile to her lips, and she began to sing, quietly at first, before belting out the chorus at the top of her lungs.

Awake now and happy, Kathryn quickly changed into black shorts and a top, threw on a pair of Under Armour running shoes, and ballistic stretched her way to her workout room.

The penthouse was perfect for guests, but Kathryn only entertained others if it presented some benefit to her. Most of the rooms in her highrise suite were for business or the presentation of artifacts she proudly kept to herself. She had a lavish office that boasted a view of the ocean and her workout room, which was private. It was her temple to self-improvement, her private sanctum.

"Alexa!" Kathryn called as she began to jog. "Let's get after it!"

One of the many little AI devices paused, whirred, and then her speakers began to play upbeat, instrumental rock. It was isolated to the workout room, and she shut the door, locking in the sound as she made her way to the treadmill.

She set an uphill program and began to jog, slowly at first but quickly increasing pace. In a few minutes, Kathryn had come alive. She could feel her heart hammering away as she sipped oxygen, carefully measuring each breath. Her limbs ached from her workout the night before, but that was fine. All the more reason to shake them out.

Kathryn ran for forty-five minutes exactly and then exited the temple. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, the temperature change brought with it a welcome chill, and she made her way to the kitchen to make a protein smoothie. The orange glow of the Los Angeles sunrise was beginning to filter its way through the smog and darkness.

Soon, she would be bathed in light.

Kathryn was a quarter through her smoothie when Mr. Samuel called at six o'clock on the dot, as he did every day. She answered on the first ring and smiled expectantly.

"Good morning, Mr. Samuel," Kathryn said.

"And a good morning to you too, Ms. Nyght," Mr. Samuel said. "Does the day find you well?"

His African accent was delightfully smooth.

"I am well because I choose to be," Kathryn said. She finished her smoothie in a few gulps and set the glass down. After wiping her mouth, she returned to the phone. "Do you have anything for me?"

There was a pause on the other line and the shuffling of papers.

"I do indeed, Ms. Nyght. Are we perhaps interested in collecting vehicles today?" Mr. Samuel said.

Kathryn smiled. She possessed a small array of desirable cars, from sports vehicles to limousines, but she would hardly consider herself a collector. Compared to her career, collecting cars was more of a luxury hobby.

"Is there any historical significance to the vehicle in question?" Kathryn asked. She put Mr. Samuel on speaker while she began to stretch.

"Some. I have located one of the stunt vehicles owned by the late Dorian Wade," Mr. Samuel said. He put the offer out as if it were a card to turn over.

Kathryn, now in a low hanging hamstring stretch, considered it for a minute before delving for more.

"Is it THE Dare-Devil car? The McLaren?"

Mr. Samuel cleared his throat, and Kathryn knew instantly it was not.

"Unfortunately, no. The whereabouts of the F1 are still currently unknown. This would be the Mercedez-Benz McLaren, used in Mr. Wade's third and fourth films, respectively."

Kathryn waved her hand and made a scoffing sound.

"Anything else?" She called.

There was another long pause and the shuffling of papers. Mr. Samuel was an old-school type of informant. He liked to burn the paper trail after a successful acquisition.

"There is. Mind if I swing by the office. The usual time?" He said, sounding suddenly vague and disinterested.

Kathryn's smile grew wider. If it was something Mr. Samuel didn't feel comfortable speaking about over the phone, then it was almost certainly worth her while.

"Absolutely. The usual time," Kathryn said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice.

After a curt goodbye, Mr. Samuel hung up, leaving Kathryn to the rest of her morning routine. She went back into her workout sanctum, turned the music up, and shut the door.

Her total-body workout brought her closer to six o'clock than she would have liked, and she found herself rushing through her shower routine. She got dressed in a sensible black dress with long, knee-high boots and then put on makeup to accentuate her lips and sky-blue eyes. She dried and tended to her platinum blonde hair and then left, locking the penthouse suite behind her.

The elevators brought her down to a private parking garage where awaited her small arsenal of stylish, powerful vehicles. From her custom Rolls Royce Ghost to the subtle but sexy Triumph Thruxton cafe racer, Kathryn's tastes were as varied as the artifacts she collected. She briefly eyed a 1956 hot-rodded F100, once belonging to James Hetfield of Metallica and the "most famous car in the world" James Bond's 1964 Aston Martin DB5, mistakenly believed to be somewhere in Dubai. Finally, she made her way to a custom, black, and silver Mercedes-Benz AMG-GT.

It sat in the sports-car section of her garage, unlocked and patient, a caged predator waiting to be unleashed. Though side by side with Porches, Ferrari's, Corvette's, Jaguars, and even a pre-World War Two Alfa-Romeo, the AMG called to her. It was a visual representation of attitude and ambition, a monster framed in carbon fiber. Pretty to look at, dangerous to underestimate.

Just like her.

Kathryn entered the sleek vehicle and pressed the start-up button. A computerized beep greeted her, and then the V8 biturbo engine snarled to life. She could feel the car's 720 horsepower at her fingertips, trembling for release, and Kathryn spent a few moments with her eyes closed, listening to the growl of the exhaust. The mechanical rumble of the animistic vehicle sent shivers down her spine. After a few moments spent appreciating her choice, she shut the door and drove for the exit.

At the security gate, Kathryn punched in the twelve-digit passcode to the garage and pressed her fingers to the scanner. Green lights danced beneath her hand, and the rings on her fingers sparkled with an emerald glow. The garage gate rose slowly, and bright Los Angeles sunlight filtered through.

With one last look at her garage, Kathryn Nyght joined traffic and picked up speed, heading towards the freeway and downtown Los Angeles.

Roughly an hour later (it took an hour to get just about anywhere in L.A.), Kathryn pulled into her reserved parking spot behind Nyght Emporium. Located in gorgeous Redondo Beach, just off the South Pacific Coast Highway, the modern, two-story office complex was her home away from home. With large tinted windows and Grecian, off-white walls, it was the culmination of years of hard work and held hundreds of precious artifacts, art pieces, and fragments of much-coveted history within.

There was only one other car in the small parking lot, a white Tesla that belonged to Aly.

Kathryn smiled as she turned off the engine and stepped from her car. There, waiting as patiently as possible, hands in her jacket pockets to stave off the early morning chill, was Aly, her sole employee. Aly checked her watch, though they both knew it was five past seven, and waved, smiling brightly.

"Good morning, Ms. Nyght!"

Brilliant but goofy and easily flustered, Aly was the type of friend Kathryn wished she'd had when she was raging through school, aggressively collecting degrees to silence her father's unspoken scorn. Aly was easygoing, upbeat, and head over heels in love with history, and, although Kathryn rarely said so aloud, a perfect employee and a wonderful companion.

"Good morning, Aly," Kathryn said easily, activating the Mercedes' alarm. She shut the door. "Excellent weather. I might go stroll the beach if the day is slow."

Aly nodded enthusiastically and adjusted her large glasses.

"It should be, although the occasional customer would be nice," Aly said.

Kathryn gave her a wry smile, and Aly's eyes went wide.

"Clients! We call them clients! I am so sorry, Ms. Nyght," Aly said, practically bowing.

Kathryn unlocked the building and deactivated the alarm. The smell of alabaster statues, ancient iron, heavy wood, and parchment paper greeted them, and both ladies stood for a moment, taking in the museum-like ambiance.

"I'll get started opening the shop!" Aly declared, and Kathryn nodded.

"If you need me, I'll be upstairs," Kathryn said.

Aly squirmed with excitement and began to take the plastic covers off the statues and pillars decorating the main storefront room. Before Kathryn had made it to the second landing and the privacy of her office, Aly called from below.

"It looks like you've got a message from Mr. Samuel. He says he'll-"

"Be here at five. Yes. I know," Kathryn said, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Aly giggled nervously.

"Any prospective leads?" she asked, looking up at her boss and personal hero.

Kathryn rolled her neck and smiled.

"We shall see."

The day turned out to be a slow one indeed. Kathryn spent the majority of it in her office searching for potential clients and artifacts that could be considered 'items of interest,' but came up with very little. At a quarter past noon, Kathryn strolled down to the Redondo Beach pier to get some fresh air and lunch. She ate at Eddie V's Prime Seafood beneath a sparkling chandelier and soaked up the view of the ocean.

Restless and itching for action, Kathryn eventually returned to the Emporium to relieve Aly for lunch. She spent the next few hours straightening exhibits and adjusting price tags in quiet contemplation before returning to her office. Finally, at precisely five o'clock, the front door chimed, and Mr. Samuel strode into the store.

"Hello! Right this way. Ms. Nyght is expecting you," Aly said, to which Mr. Samuel gave a curt nod.

A tall, black man in his early forties, Mr. Samuel was the epitome of class. He wore a dark leather jacket over a simple gray shirt with black jeans and shiny black shoes. He sported a slightly weathered fedora but removed it upon entering. Salt and pepper stubbled adorned his chin.

"Aly," Mr. Samuel said and followed her up the metal staircase to the second-floor office.

Aly gently knocked on the door and then ushered in Mr. Samuel when Kathryn called that it was ok.

"Have an excellent meeting!" Aly said, bounding back down the stairs to tend the shop.

"Thank you, Aly," Mr. Samuel said and closed the door.

Kathryn's office was a clutter of paper, both printed and parchment, and maps covered the several desks scattered throughout the cluttered room. Tribal masks stared down at them from the walls, and Mr. Samuel had to move a genuine Roman Gladius from a chair in order to sit down.

Kathryn watched Mr. Samuel navigate her office until he was comfortable, a smirk playing at the corners of her expressive lips. When the older gentleman had crossed his legs and cleared his throat, he reached into his jacket pocket for a list of hand-written notes, which he intended to burn one way or the other.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Samuel," Kathryn said, careful never to speak his first name. "How was London?"

Mr. Samuel waved off the question, uninterested in small talk and Kathryn's grin turned into a genuine smile. Whatever acquisition he had his eyes on, it was bound to be interesting.

"Alright then, what have you got for me?" Kathryn asked. She poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher nearby and offered a glass to Mr. Samuel, who declined.

"Alright, Kathryn. This one might be right up your alley. I've located three arcane artifacts, melee weapons of immense size and unknown origin. Rumor amidst the lower levels is these weapons are magical," Mr. Samuel said.

Kathryn shook her head and took a sip of water.

"You know I don't believe in magic, Mr. Samuel," Kathryn said.

Mr. Samuel's eyes practically sparkled.

"I know, Ms. Nyght, but I do," He said, even-toned and earnest.

Kathryn waved for Mr. Samuel to continue, and he did.

"These weapons are a two-handed sword, a great-ax, and a war-scythe. Word in the know is that the design of these weapons is untraceable, unlike anything else in recorded history. Even the metal these weapons are made from is unknown."

Kathryn's interest in these artifacts was growing, but she retained an air of professional curiosity despite the fire growing within. Mr. Samuel continued.

"The weapons were last seen in the collection of one Dantalion Graves, as in the former CEO of Grave Artifacts and Antiquities. I believe you have had some dealings with him in the past?"

Kathryn scoffed, recalling the tall, graying man with sour features and a wild mane. They had only met once. His company purchased the Odilon Redon painting 'Reflection' from Nyght Acquisitions for two-point-five million dollars, and Kathryn hadn't heard from the reclusive collector for many years.

"He disappeared, correct?" Kathryn asked.

Mr. Samuel nodded.

"It has been about five years since Mr. Graves's mysterious disappearance. He is succeeded by his daughter Missy Graves, who seems to be moving the bulk of her father's collection to a warehouse in the Caribbeans. The weapons in question are not recorded amongst his official collection, nor does any written record of them exist. They are ripe for the taking."

Kathryn sighed. There were so many loose ends to this case and not a lot to go on.

"Why should I care if no one knows they exist?" Kathryn asked.

Mr. Samuel smiled wide.

"When it comes to magical artifacts, Ms. Nyght, only the right people know they exist," He said.

Kathryn sighed and looked out the office window. The view of the Pacific Ocean greeted her, blue and wild. She had been bored, restless even. Perhaps a wild goose chase was exactly what she needed. Even if nothing came of it, she'd still get the chance to visit the Caribbeans.

"Ok," Kathryn said with a shrug. "You know what? Fuck it. I'll take the job. Nyght Acquisitions is on the case."

"Excellent!" Mr. Samuel said. He reached forward, offered his hand, and Kathryn shook it. The deal was struck. "I'll get started on your travel arrangements."

Kathryn nodded, but a bell chiming downstairs caught her attention. She twirled in her chair to look at the security cameras.

"Oh," She said involuntarily.

"Person of interest?" Mr. Samuel asked. He rose, adjusted his fedora, and made his way towards the door.

"A customer," Kathryn clarified, but it was clear she was distracted.

Mr. Samuel chuckled to himself, muttered something about the wildness of youth, and then, with a curt goodbye, departed the office.

Kathryn found herself affixed to the monitors. She watched Mr. Samuel leave and then turned her attention to the customer.

The man who had entered her shop was perhaps the most handsome man she'd ever seen, and that was from a distance. Tall and visibly muscular, the man had chiseled features, narrow, fierce eyes, and a clean, contoured beard just beginning to gray. His hair was dark, short, and just a little bit wild. He wore expensive black jeans, pointed black boots, and a gray shirt plastered against bulging biceps and a pronounced, powerful chest.

The customer held a pair of sunglasses in his left hand and gestured expressively about him. Aly nearly fainted when he smiled.

Kathryn rose and crossed her arms. This was interesting. A departure from scrolls and artifacts. An exhibit of the flesh and perhaps a taste of the adventure to come.

Aly led the delicious man around the shop. It was clear from her mannerisms that she was flustered. She adjusted her glasses repeatedly, and her fingers wavered when she pointed. She was doing an awful lot of pointing.

Though he followed good-naturedly, the man gave off an aura of disinterest that Kathryn found fascinating. Aly was studious, and though thrown off guard, she was likely rattling off the highest points in the shop, highlights that included a French closed Helmet circa 1590, a seventeenth-century Parade Corselet made of steel, bronze, leather, and velvet, and a 10th-century Scandinavian ceremonial sword that likely belonged to a Viking chieftain.

Though the sword certainly caught his eye, not much else in the store had and this Kathryn found extremely curious. Nyght Acquisitions was not the type to attract window shoppers, and this customer seemed like he was looking for something. Suddenly, the man looked up directly into the eyes of the camera, and Kathryn felt every hair on her body rise. It was like he was looking straight through the monitors into her soul. She took a step back, surprised, and the steel-eyed man smiled as if he knew.

Kathryn felt her cheeks flush, though, of course, that was irrational. There was no way the stranger had seen her through the cameras. She glanced back at the monitors, and he was busy reading the placard on a sixteenth-century gold-encrusted rapier. His head was down, and his back was to her, and this time it was Aly staring straight at the camera.

'Get down here!' She mouthed, nodding emphatically at the man.

Kathryn sighed and grinned. Why not, she thought? Maybe it was time to have a little fun. Kathryn checked herself in the office bathroom mirror and then, with a quick exhale of nerves, strode out of her office to the landing overlooking the store.

Her boots clicked loud, announcing her presence and both Aly and the handsome customer looked up. He smiled as if he'd been expecting her.

Aly muttered about a need to dust the portraits and hurried away, adjusting her glasses with every step. Katheryne put one hand on the banister and made her way languidly down the stairs. His gray eyes, much the same color as his shirt, remained affixed to her.

"Welcome to Nyght Emporium, "Kathryn said as she neared the bottom. "See anything you like?"

Handsome to a fault, the stranger rubbed his stubble and tucked his sunglasses away.

"I do now," He said.

"Hmm," Kathryn replied, smiling mischievously.

She strolled past him and waved for him to follow. To her delight, he did. He smelled woody and warm, like the rainforest in summer, with faint notes of amber and citrus, or was that lavender?

"I couldn't help but notice your disinterest in my wares," Katheryn began. She could feel his eyes upon her, ravishing her form. He certainly wasn't disinterested in her.

"I have very specific tastes," the man said cryptically.

Katheryn laughed.

"Do you have a name to go with those specific tastes?"

Kathryn turned and caught the man's eyes. He smiled and looked away.

"Hunter," He said at last.

She waved again for Hunter to follow and led him through a set of double doors not accessible to the public. The smell of heavy plastic tarps and ancient statues greeted them. There were crates with transportation stamps in nearly every written language plastered across them and priceless portraits hidden away from the world. More than anything though, this room held dozens of glass cases, each with a weapon carefully preserved inside.

"This is my private collection, Mr...?" Kathryn inquired.

"Just Hunter," He answered with a broad smile.

"No surname?"

"No surname," Hunter agreed. He dipped his head, and for a moment, he looked a tad sheepish, a personality trait Kathryn found adorable. "Where I come from, last names aren't all that important. Most of them don't stick."

Kathryn raised her eyebrows at that.

"And where are you from, Mr. Hunter?" Kathryn asked.

"I'd be more than delighted to tell you all about it," Hunter said, stepping closer.

The pair circled in the private room, almost dancing, their fingers close enough to touch.

"You didn't come here to purchase anything, did you?" Kathryn asked.

Hunter smiled, and Kathryn felt an intrinsic trickle of hesitation, as if she were looking into the jaws of a wild animal. Hunter looked away, down at an early eighteenth-century pipe tomahawk.

"I could, if that would please the lady," Hunter said.

"You wish to please me?" Kathryn asked, her smile growing wider as Hunter's cheeks flushed.

Before he could answer, Kathryn put a finger to his lips.

"Tell you what. How about you pick me up at eight. Little spot I like to frequent called Los Noches. You know it? We can talk business or pleasure, your call."

Hunter smiled and kissed her fingers. He briefly wrapped his hands around hers, but it was enough to feel the callouses from years of physical labor. Hunter was clearly not afraid to get his hands dirty.

"At eight. Los Noches. I know it," Hunter said. "It's a date."

Kathryn smiled and folded her arms behind her back. With one last grin, Hunter turned and left Kathryn's private collection. He said goodbye to Aly and strode out the front door into the Los Angeles sunlight.

"Holy shit," Kathryn breathed.

She leaned carefully against the wood and glass case behind her. Her heart was pounding. Although never one to lack confidence, there was something about Hunter that both thrilled and set her nerves on fire. She'd felt unreasonably attracted and uncharacteristically emboldened in his presence, a heady combination to be sure.

"Holy shit!" Aly said as she burst into the room, a feather duster in each hand. "That was probably the finest, most terrifying man I've ever seen in my life!"

Kathryn nodded and exhaled heavily.

"He's picking me up tonight at eight," She said, hardly able to believe it herself.

Aly gawked at her, took off her glasses, and made a show of dropping her jaw.

"What was his name? Is he picking you up at your place?" Aly asked.

Kathryn straightened, her wits coming back to her.

"No, no, Los Noches. We'll be meeting in a public place," Kathryn said. The statement reassured the both of them.

"Hunter," Aly said after a moment. "Fitting, given that he looks like he could eat you alive."

Kathryn gave Aly a reproachful look.

"Back to work you. We'll be closing soon," Kathryn said. She started back towards her office. "I have a warehouse to research."

Aly's eyes sparkled, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh! Did you take a new job! Where to?"

Kathryn didn't answer. She took a long, deep breath and then went back upstairs. With the focus of a career professional, she put Hunter and his too-tight shirt out of her mind and focused on the upcoming mission.

For the next two hours, Kathryn deep-dived into Caribbean camping spots, weather charts, any and all articles she could find about Missy and her late father, Dantalion Graves, and black-market maps of privately owned islands. She made lists of camping gear, climbing supplies, first-aid medical equipment. and rations she would need, as well as locations on the islands she could hide if the job went awry.

Getting the weapons, magical or not, from Dantalion's warehouse was not going to be easy. In many ways. the job was more in line with burglary than tomb-robbing, a facet Kathryn privately relished.

Just after seven, Aly called up to report the shop was all closed down, and Kathryn stood up, cursing. She'd forgotten all about Hunter! Damning her tunnel vision, Kathryn stormed downstairs and helped Aly lock the store. Before Kathryn left, she made sure that Aly knew that she was going to be at Los Noches and told her to tell Mr. Samuel as well.

"You are to call me at nine PM on the dot and Mr. Samuel at eleven. If I do not answer either call, assume the worst, trace my call, and have Mr. Samuel arrive at my last known location with intent to kill," Kathryn said, looking straight into Aly's eyes.

"Will do, Ms. Nyght. You are so goddamn cool," Aly said.

Kathryn grinned and then raced home as fast as traffic would allow. She freshened up, changed into one of her less sensible black cocktail dresses, and then sped to Los Noches. Even though Los Angeles traffic was notoriously nightmarish, it seemed luck was on her side this evening. She arrived with ten minutes to spare, time enough to order a drink and calm her pounding heart.

The bartender, whose name tag said Boris, was a pale man with a thick, but pleasant Russian accent. He asked what she would like, and Kathryn told him that tonight was an adventure and she was down for just about anything.

Boris smiled and started shaking together a cocktail. He set a tall glass in front of her and then poured a brilliant red liquid that smelled heavily of Vodka, Tequila, and Orange Curacao. He snapped his fingers and the rim of the glass briefly caught flame. Boris waved his hand, snuffing the flames, and set a slice of orange on the rim as garnish.

"Then this is the drink for you. Just like my boy used to have it," Boris said. He leaned plucked a glass from the counter and began to meticulously clean it with a rag.

Kathryn tentatively took a sip. The red cocktail was zingy, with elements of agave and lime, but heady and powerful. It brought a smile to her lips and sent courage to her gut.

"Does this drink have a name?" Kathryn asked.

Boris looked away, a wistful look in his weathered eyes. Kathryn followed his gaze, but couldn't find anything particularly fascinating.

"Indeed it does, Ma'am," Boris said. "It's called the Dare-Devil special. This one's on the house."

Kathryn thanked Boris as he moved down the bar, assisting other patrons. The front door opened at precisely eight o'clock, and the street lights outside illuminated the broad, powerful frame of Hunter.

He was dressed in a dinner jacket but otherwise looked very much the same as Kathryn had seen him earlier. Hunter approached with a smile. Just like before, his scent set every nerve in her body alight. His presence thrilled and frightened her, and despite the liquid courage in the glass before her, she wondered precisely why she was doing this.

"Ms. Nyght," Hunter said as he approached. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," She answered automatically. "Call me Kathryn."

She took another quick drink of her Dare-Devil cocktail, this time draining a quarter of the glass, and stood up. They shook, and Kathryn gestured to the low-lit tables in the corners, but Hunter shook his head.

"Kathryn, if you are interested, I would like to take you stargazing," Hunter said. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. "Drinks and quiet conversation are lovely, but nothing compares to the beauty all around us."

Kathryn found herself nodding. She turned to tell the bartender that the drink was lovely but Boris was gone. In his place stood a polite young man with an earnest smile who couldn't help but look at her cleavage. Kathryn felt disoriented suddenly, and the smoky, lounge atmosphere of Los Noches felt constricting.

"Fresh air sounds lovely," She said.

Hunter led Kathryn outside. An expectant valet stood next to a black Jaguar F-type convertible, keys in hand.

"Here you are, sir," The valet said and handed the keys to Hunter.

A perfect gentleman, Hunter opened the passenger door for Kathryn and then strode around the back. He nodded to a few admirers of his vehicle before getting in and starting the engine.

"Why the stars?" Kathryn asked when he was inside, more than a little curious.

"You know what they say, the best things in life are free," Hunter said.

There was something heartbreaking about the way he said that, but Kathryn couldn't place what. As soon as the engine started, the snarl wiped the thought from her mind.

"How many cars do you have?" Kathryn asked as they pulled away.

"As many as I need," Hunter replied with a sly smile.

Kathryn shook her head, but she enjoyed his cheeky answer.

"You know who I am. You probably saw my car. Did you bring this ride to impress me?" Kathryn asked.

Hunter pressed a button, and the convertible roof began to retract. Kathryn raised her hands instinctively and closed her eyes. The night air felt cool and good on her hot skin.

"Is it working?" Hunter replied with a wolfish grin.

Flirting the whole while, Hunter took them out onto the freeway and then out of the city, high up into the San Gabriel Mountains. The winding trail and dark, peaceful mountains slowly tore away at the light pollution hovering around the city, and gradually, they could see the stars.

With glittering lights below and above them, the pair spoke about secret dreams, cultures long forgotten, and artifacts worth collecting. The roar of the impressive sports car and the feel of the road beneath them was the perfect combination of exhilaration and peace. Kathryn found herself leaning back in the sleek, warmed leather seats, gazing out at the stars as if seeing them for the first time.

"So tell me, Kathryn. Acquisitions. That's code for an extremely dangerous line of work, isn't it? From what I know, it requires nerves of steel and more than a touch of finesse. How did you get into it?" Hunter asked.

Kathryn sighed.

"I've always been driven to be the best. To be better than anyone in my class. To stand head and shoulders above my peers no matter who I stood next to," Kathryn said. She adjusted her hair and stared out the window at the city glowing below them. "It has a lot to do with my father. Every shrink I have ever seen has said so. Career politician. Running for governor. All I am, all I've ever been to him was an asset, something to show off for leverage and then put away at the end of the night. I guess that drive transferred into a need that I've never really been able to satisfy."

Hunter nodded. He was quiet, and when Kathryn looked at him, even in side profile, she could tell her words had a profound effect on him,

"What is it? What did I say?" Kathryn asked.

Hunter grit his teeth and then exhaled heavily. He smiled and shook his head.

"It's nothing. It's just, in so many ways, you remind me...of home. My master would love you," Hunter said.

"Master?" Kathryn asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Sorry, force of habit. Employer," Hunter clarified with a laugh.

Though the drive was pleasant, the chill was starting to bite, and Kathryn wondered where Hunter was taking her. She'd seen several turnouts with a clear view of the sky, and hardly any of them were occupied by groping teenagers looking for privacy, which is what these turnouts were known for. Still, she did her best to relax, and when her phone rang at nine PM on the dot, she silenced it and texted back that she was safe and to call at eleven.

"Friends?" Hunter asked.

"And partners," Kathryn answered. "Making sure I am safe."

Hunter didn't reply to that. He reached down and turned the radio on. Smooth jazz filtered through the vehicle, low enough for conversation but loud enough to be heard over the wind.

Kathryn studied Hunter as he drove. His aura was calm and pleasant, and every time he caught her looking his way he met her gaze and smiled.

"So where are we going?" Kathryn asked.

"Somewhere very special," Hunter said. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught Kathryn off-guard. She found that she did, in fact, trust him. Against her better judgment, against her common sense, she trusted him. At the same time, she realized that up until that moment, until that simply asked question, she had been incredibly unfulfilled. Despite the dangers of tomb-robbing, historic burglary, museum donations, and black-market meetings, very little in her life moved her.

Through desensitization, even the incredibly dangerous had become...mundane.

"I trust you," Kathryn said.

Hunter nodded. He was silent for a few moments. Then he told her to close her eyes.

"Why?" Kathryn asked, even as she did.

Her eyelids closed, slow and heavy, like curtains on a stage, and Kathryn smiled dreamily. She felt giddy and somewhat drunk.

"Because I'm taking you to real magic. What you see would shock and terrify you, and I don't want you to run," Hunter said.

Kathryn laughed and leaned back in the expensive leather seat.

"I don't believe in magic," Kathryn said, her voice little more than a whisper.

"I know," Hunter said.

The ride got a little rougher, and it seemed to Kathryn that they'd just made a right, possibly onto a dirt road. Hunter reached out and put his hands on hers. She entwined her fingers in his, feeling small and somewhat vulnerable.

"Are you comfortable?" Hunter asked.

His voice was pure melody, deep where it needed to be, and utterly harmonious. Eyes closed, Kathryn nodded yes.

Hunter squeezed her hand and then pulled away to take the wheel. From within the dark world of closed eyelids, Kathryn felt the road suddenly give away. She experienced a familiar sense of weightlessness followed by the iron grip of gravity, and her stomach rose within her. They were falling.

Kathryn began to open her eyes when she felt Hunter's arm against her chest, pressing her into the seat. The Jaguar started to dive. Kathryn's hair whipped madly behind them as they plummeted.

"Don't. Keep your eyes closed. Trust me!" Hunter yelled, his voice lost in the wind.

Torn between a sudden, unyielding desire to experience something different and ever-present mortal instinct, Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart was a war drum. Briefly, she wondered if her drink in Los Noches had been spiked and if this was how she was going to die.

Suddenly they hit the ground hard, and the Jaguar let out a loud, aggressive snarl that Kathryn felt in every fiber of her body. Her eyes flew open in disbelief and then widened in shock and horror.

She was not in a Jaguar; she was on one. The car she'd been safely harnessed in was gone and in its place was an enormous black, metal cat with paws the size of Volkswagon Beetles, and a head of growling, animate steel. Its roar was like an engine and shook Kathryn to her core. She sat astride the great, plate-metal cat on a saddle made of rough brown leather.

Hunter sat in front of her, shirtless, his broad back and powerful muscles exposed. He wore leather armor on his shoulders and forearms, and his short black hair was wild and unkempt. His back was covered in deep scars and whip lacerations, and there was a gray tint to his skin that hadn't been there before.

With a sigh, Hunter turned in the saddle to look at her. His face shifted like colors on a palette before becoming first Aly, with her soft, expressive features and too big for her face glasses, and then Mr. Samuel, with his knowing smile and whiskey-dark eyes.

Kathryn recoiled in disgust as the figure of Mr. Samuel shifted to become the scowling, pallid, condescending visage of her father. That was more than Kathryn could take, and she began to frantically tug at the straps that kept her in the saddle. As Kathryn squirmed in the harness, her captor transformed back into the familiar form of Hunter and smiled sadly.

"It had to be you, Kathryn. You are Arena-Bound. You've always been," Hunter said, his voice deeper and rougher than before. "Every night the same dream. Every night the Great Arena. You've always felt the call. You simply misinterpreted the message."

Kathryn felt like her veins were flooded with ice. She froze and slowly met Hunter's gaze.

"The Arena?" She asked.

The heady tonic of adrenaline, coupled with several shots of fear, raged within her, but Kathryn couldn't move. She was paralyzed with curiosity.

"The Great Arena," Hunter clarified, speaking the title with fearful reverence. "Listen to me now, Kathryn. I haven't much time, and few others would give you this warning. Everything is real. Every myth, every fable, every legend. Every dream is a glimpse at a separate reality and every nightmare a hint at what lies in the darkness. It will feel like a curse, and you may curse me for my actions, but in time you will understand. For what it is worth, I am sorry for what I've done, what I was commanded to do."

"Commanded?" Kathryn questioned, trying to wrap her mind around what Hunter was saying.

"You must have courage, Kathryn Nyght. The blood of a warrior pumps through your veins, and you'll need to harness the potential of every drop to survive this place," Hunter continued. He smiled and there were tears in the corners of his angular, perfect face. "In time, you will know the same truth that I do."

"And what is that?" Kathryn asked, hesitant to look around.

A horn sounded suddenly, followed by the victorious fanfare of several trumpets and the pounding of drums.

Hunter sighed.

"That the best things in life...are free."

With that, the straps binding Kathryn to the saddle unwound like living things, and the massive metal cat bucked, sending her flying to the sand several feet below. Kathryn rolled with the impact and rose to her feet.

A towering tree-house structure of wood and stone rose before her, impossibly intricate and decidedly alien. The design of the strange, wondrous building resembled Roman architecture, and she found herself marveling at the possibility behind its creation. The sand at her feet stretched to the very foundations of the structure, and a storm of black and red energy pulsed persistently in the heavens, casting a dark shadow. Mostly nude figures strode the stone villas and tree-house landings, and they stopped in their activities to stare at her.

Kathryn turned to look behind her and found that the sand ended in a sheer cliff face. The slightest misstep resulted in a fall over a thousand feet high. An ocean of blood crashed distantly against the rocks below, and the unmistakable iron scent was heavy in her nostrils. Hunter sat proudly atop the massive black cat at the cliff's edge, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

From the shaded stone villa came dozens of muscular humanoids in a multitude of colors and shapes. Some were monstrous, with brutish features, protruding tusks, and scaly skin tones that ranged from albino white to jet black and everything in between, while others still were bestial, resembling werewolves, satyrs, and the legends of Big Foot and the Wendigo. A few were beautiful, with long flowing hair and eyes like glowing embers, and some were horrifying, the indistinct monsters that stalked the shadows of our subconscious. From the leaves came those made of wood and primal elements, while others rose from the sands and dusted the earth from their hair. All were dressed in meager rags and hand-made leather armor.

It was more than Kathryn could process, and tears spilled from her eyes.

A voice, pure and resonant, powerful beyond belief and cold like an arctic wind, called down to her. The voice was masculine and feminine simultaneously and Kathryn looked up at the tallest balcony and the blue-gold light shining radiantly there. She could tell that the being was beautiful, but to look upon them directly was like being snow-blind. It was too bright, and the light stung her eyes.

"You stand on the hallowed grounds of the greatest Ludus in all of Arcadius," the voice called. The skies above crackled and rumbled with every word. "Welcome to the greatest gladiator school in all of Faerie, the house of Pixus-Blade!"

A monstrous roar peeled from the throats of every leather-clad warrior that stepped from the house, and Kathryn found herself awestruck. She could hardly believe her senses, but her gut told her that this was real. Every second of it.

"Now then, New-Blood," Pixus-Blade said. "Give me your name."

The deific creature leaned forward on the tree-grown balcony eagerly. Kathryn could tell that the body of the being was female, but the voice was duel-toned. The light spilling from their left eye was like trapped sunlight fighting to escape.

Kathryn moved to answer. She took a step forward and pressed a hand to her chest but found that she couldn't speak. Her voice was gone! Worse, all of the air in her lungs seemed to carry no oxygen! She gasped, her eyes bulging, but none of the monstrous warriors on the sands moved to help. They stared at her with cold, unblinking eyes as Kathryn suffocated.

High on the balcony, Pixus-Blade smiled like a proud mother. She wrapped her arctic hands on the wood banister and hummed briefly to herself while Kathryn squirmed. Languidly, she drew in breath denied to her guest.

"I grant you access to the air of Arcadius. It will now nourish you and carry your voice," Pixus-Blade said airily. "Now, give me your name."

"Kathryn Nyght," she said as soon as she could draw in a breath.

No sooner had the words left her lips, Kathryn knew she had made a mistake. It felt suddenly as if a piece of her soul had just been clipped and traded away, though what she got in return she couldn't really say. All at once, she felt alone and more vulnerable than ever before.

Pixus-Blade nodded and breathed deep, infused and invigorated. Her left eye crackled with the delicious power of her father while the rest of her exuded dreadful calm and calculating cruelty.

"Kathryn Nyght, you belong to me now. I am your Domina, and you are my slave. You are mine to do with as I please and to remake as I desire," Pixus-Blade began.

Kathryn took an involuntary step back and found the cliff edge waiting for her. Hunter and his terrible mount were gone. The blood sea lapped hungrily against the rocks far below.

"Oh, dear child. There is no need to despair. I have felt your call across oceans of time. You have prayed for me and not even known it. Though you are mine, your servitude is one you have secretly craved and one that I have searched endlessly for. I will give to you the purpose your heart craves, and you shall be reforged in the fires of combat. Does that not exhilarate you? You will be reborn in the form you have always desired, the form you never knew you needed," Pixus-Blade said.

Kathryn could hardly believe what she was hearing. This couldn't be possible! She had a life! She was successful. This type of thing belonged on HBO specials and on the pages of comic books. How had this happened to her?

And yet, the words of the one called Pixus-Blade rang true. Her whole life, she'd craved something never found. She'd sought danger and luxury in equal measure, never realizing it was a dream she sought to emulate. The lavish blood-sport of gladiatorial combat had been there, pulsing in the back of her mind like a migraine, and as Hunter had said, she'd misinterpreted the message.

In the end, though, it didn't matter. The message had come for her.

Kathryn contemplated Pixus-Blades words. Her head was down and her chest heaved. When she looked up, it was with purpose. Kathryn Nyght stared into the glowing eyes of her Domina and nodded.

"What image will you reforge me in?" She asked.

Pixus-Blade smiled. A cold wind blew, and a light snow began to crest from the heavens across the Ludus. The gladiators on the sands raised their fists and began to chant gutturally, welcoming the new-blood into their ranks.

Pixus-Blade, the Lanista known throughout Arcadius as 'The Living Winter' and 'The Snow that caged the Sun', leaned back and looked at the heavens, at the storm that had raged in this land for as long as she'd been alive. She returned her cold, searing gaze to her latest acquisition, and her smile was death incarnate.

"The one you desire with all of your being," Pixus-Blade said. "That...of the Champion."