Nanowrimo 2011 - Day 22

A wager? What had she been thinking? Magda stepped outside with one of her retainers, around into the alley next to the seedy bar, and leaned against a stinking garbage container to pull off her footwear. The wager had been simple: double or nothing, both of their dogs against hers. She snorted. It was going to be a stretch but she craved the challenge after the months of being a passive ornament.

She handed her boots to the large man who was shadowing her. The two retainers she had been assigned by Lucas were selected for brute intimidation rather than intelligence. In fact, she was pretty sure, these guys had been surgically altered for loyalty above curiosity. Her boots were closely followed by the dark cap she had been wearing. She shook out her long hair and breathed for a moment, ignoring the garbage scent, just enjoying a few seconds with unbound hair and bare feet again. Then off came the black shirt and trousers, panties and bra.

“Fold it, and stow it.” she said, pointing at the pile of clothing the man was carrying.

Now for the tough part. She cast her mind back. This would only work, for one such as herself, if she was calm and had fed recently. The ability was open to all - all men could run, but few became champion athletes. So very few developed the skills as her friend, and part time lover Ramon had done, back in her time living with Mama Rosa. She closed her eyes. The memory of Ramon helped her find peace, albeit with a warm smile written all over here. The benefit of being a reader was her photographic recall. It was as if Ramon was stood with her, that afternoon in the woods behind the Villa in Italy. He wasnt tall, though she found out that was by choice rather than genetics, nor was he overly solidly built. To look at him, Ramon was a nondescript guy in his mid-twenties with a clearly “latin” look to him. He had a particular habit of bushing his shoulder length, jet black hair back out of his eyes. She could remember every detail - the lightly furry chest, his deep brown liquid eyes, his crooked smile that made her think there was mischief planned (which invariably, there was). Ramon was a natural, and walked her through her first few transformations, gradually fading to the background once Magda was “getting it.”

She reached deep. Back to memories of success. Back to times that were simpler. She wanted the men to be sure of their bet, and that meant picking a dog breed that was known to them as a fighter, but nothing too outlandish as to raise suspicions. Mama Rosa had kept a number of guard dogs around her property - the large Pyrenean Mountain Dogs had been gentle giants with a fiercely protective spirit. They had loved running free on the land. It was never easy to get an accurate count of their number guarding the villa as they were favourites of Ramon and others - the powerful bodies with legs that could run and simply eat the miles - there was such joy to be had running in the pack in defense of The Matriarch. Here in the depths of the city there wasnt room to run. No-one would keep a Pyrenean down here. Magda had heard of Lucas and others taking visits to the country but they were rare and only for the true elite.

With a sigh Magda cast her mind around for another candidate. Rosa had kept another white breed, medium sized but stocky, its face an odd egg shape. The eyes - triangular and deep set - made her shudder. Rosa had always referred to these dogs as her “gladiators” - fiercely protective and the next line of defense after the Pyreneans. A perfect breed for fighting. Magda called up a mental image of one of the dog she wanted - solid body, mostly white with a few brown patches, called “Il Pugelist” by Rosa. She dropped to all fours as the change took hold. Shifting her form had always cost dearly but the times when she had downshifted always hurt that little bit more. Within moments she’d discarded the excess muscle and bone mass. She concentrated on details of the face and body first - powerful legs, solid chest, deepset triangular eyes and the distinctive heads. Then came white fur - a close cropped coat - and she opted for breed standard coloring. She caught sight of herself in a nearby puddle and an involuntary growl leaped to her throat. Yes. Just right. She had even remembered the ears - pointed and alert - complementing a tail held horizontal. She growled and barked. Good - the right timbre of voice too.

Magda turned for the door of the bar and was brought up short. From behind, her retainer had reached down to slip a collar on her. Lead by a leash, Magda found herself back in the bar. The leash was handed to the two gentlemen they seemed glad to have her. Magda’s retainers left.

“Sit.” one of the two men said, “You’re coming with us, and our dog’s gonna mess you up.”

Drinks came, and empties returned. The men carried on drinking until the barman made a point of coming over to clean their table. They took their new charge down to a shabby dockside building. Inside it had been sectioned off into apartments. Children cried. Mothers shouted, fathers bellowed. Occasionally Magda could smell another dog. She couldnt help it - it came so naturally to her - she barked at it. The shabby man yanked hard on her leash, “Shut up.”

Magda had been expecting a very different venue for a fighting arena. The two shabby men had met the following day, dressed in much cleaner suits, and took a taxicab into the downtown area. They approached a very well-to-do office building, and were turned around at the door by a burly security guard. All part of the ritual - as they hurried around the back of the building to the merchant’s entrance - he had spoken into his sleeve to inform someone of their arrival. Indeed, they were met and welcomed at the back of the building, three men carrying guns and dressed in dark suits. The shabby pair were ushered into the building and rode in the goods elvator up to the top floor. Magda was examined by a man wearing white, who pronounced her “acceptable” and they were ushered into what might have been a boardroom in any of the offices around this one. The floor had been slided away to create a two storey cavern of a room. Seats around the upper gallery afforded spectators a view of the pit at the centre of the space. Two snarling dogs - fur matted with blood from wounds inflicted on other animals during prior fights - were being restrained by handlers. Magda licked her lips at the sight of blood, and barked once, as she recognized one of the well-to-do spectators as a vampire of low esteem. Exactly as she had hoped. He slipped out before the dogfight started in earnest.

The two shabby men lead Magda through the crowd and down some stairs to the floor below. Outside the fight ring were cages - dogs of all shapes and sizes were in evidence. One man - the one who had wagered her - began petting a lanky wolfhound. It was a strong dog, good legs, but seemed to favour one side of its face as he reached in to pet it. Bad sight? She didnt have time to wonder. She was pushed into a cage at ground level. The two men spoke with an attendant who gestured toward a few dogs to give a sense of the arranged docket of fights. Money was exchanged and strangely enough, the fights now became arranged in the order that the two men desired. Magda was going to have to fight the wolfhound, for sure, but hadnt there been talk of a second dog? She didnt have time to think - the bleeding wreck of a dog was hauled in from the fighting pit. It was still beathing despite grieveous wounds. The attendand sent the shabby men off back to their seats, grabbed a nearby shovel and beheaded the suffering animal. Magda felt a shiver of fear. To the death then.

Two more dogs were lead out into the ring, and a single dog brought in and placed into the cage beside hers. His smell! She sat up. This was no mere dog.

As if to prove her reaction correct, the other dog barked once then growled and the growl morphed into a base human voice. Impressive control of the transformation. Could be a natural. Magda stayed silent but pushed her canine throat into shape to form human sounds.

“You were down for two fights, were you not?” he growled.

“Yes.” Magda said.

“Then I assume you came to challenge me. Etiquette would have had you introduce your challege prior to tonight, but I can look past it for the pleasure of sending one of your … standing … back to her rightful place.” he said, with contempt.

First the wager, and unexpectedly she had leaped into the realms of full-blood combat for status in society. She gasped. Her opponent had chosen well. She would be weak from her first fight. He planned to dispatch her as a challenger easily. Win this fight though … she would gain the standing she was hoping for. A stepping stone of course. And she would be expected to defend the position in-kind. There had to be a way. Against the wolfhound she had to be fast, take him down with a minimum of fuss. Her real fight would come thereafter.

Both dogs that had entered the ring returned quicker than expected. Magda strained her hearing, to catch the complaints of the crowd and their handlers. Neither had chosen to engage the other substantially, snapping and growling was not enough for the crowd, so another fight was called for.

Magda found herself hauled out of her cage. She hastily reconfigured canine vocal chords, and as they entered the rough sand of the fight ring itself she bellowed her contempt and rage at the crowd and especially at the wolfhound opposing her. Sheer intimidation. She hauled at the rope leash and succeeded in pulling it through the handler’s fist giving him rope burn. She pulled hard, rising up on hind legs to bellow her defiance, trying to match the impressive height of the dog facing her. She goaded him into action. She also got a good look at the scars around his left eye, and the way he turned his head to track her movements. There. His weakness. Perhaps even blind in that eye.

Both dogs were turned loose and she took off at a dead sprint, dodging in and then back out urging the big dog to give chase. He fell for it, loping after her as she circled the edge of the pit. She pushed ahead, skidded to a stop and leaped past him to run the opposite direction. Now his bad eye was outermost and he was noticably slow to respond when she doubled back. She was tiring but the crowd didnt seem to care. She doubled back and it cost her a bite to the flank. Around, double back and she leaped for the big dog’s throat. He didnt see her coming. She needed the clean kill bt also craved sustinense. Shifting, running, and her own bleeding wound. They all cried out for blood and marrow. She worried on the throat of the wolfhound as it went down, drank of the fountain of blood, before handlers pulled her off. No! She was lost in a moment of bloodlust, no-one touches a member of the Families while she was feeding!

Magda flashed faster than human thought, turning on the handler and chewed off his left leg at the knee. Yes. Marrow. She fed and pushed regeneraton into her starved body. Between wolfhound and handler she now had an excess to face the Vampire.