Frost was worried about fighting Marsilia, the vampires had told me. That's why he'd chosen a challenge of three. He didn't like the odds of going against her by herself, but he thought he could come up with two other vampires stronger than hers. Likely he was right - so she'd chosen a different way.
If Adam had come with me, maybe she would have used him instead. He was a werewolf, and necromancy would have no effect on him. But she would work with what she had.
"Yours is the challenge and the manner of challenge," Marsilia said coolly, as if she hadn't just jerked his chain. "You chose now, and a three-way challenge. My choice is the place and the official. I choose here. It is large enough and remote." She smiled at him. "Since it is in my territory but owned by you, I thought it appropriate."
Owned by Frost. That made sense if he was the money man.
Marsilia paused for a moment and looked around. "Almost symbolic since one of my colleagues destroyed it yesterday."
Adam would be surprised to find out he was her "colleague." But I kept my face still.
"And for the officials, as the Master of Ceremonies tonight, I call upon Stefan Uccello, also known as the Soldier."
One of Frost's vampires said, "That is unacceptable. He is yours. The Master of Ceremonies cannot be yours."
I'd quit looking at the magic threads that bound Frost to his vampires. It produced an eye strain, like those bizarre patterns that showed a 3?D picture when observed through unfocused eyes. I couldn't tell if Frost was making the vampire talk or if the vampire in question was doing it on his own.
"I am not Marsilia's," said Stefan. "I do not belong to her seethe."
"He speaks truthfully," Frost told his people. "I witnessed this myself. Marsilia treated him so shamefully that he left her seethe, and she was too weak to prevent him. A real man, a real soldier, would never serve such a one. We can accept him - in all ways."
Rat bastard. He was right, but that didn't make him any less of a rat bastard. I could see, even if no one else did, that those words had hurt Stefan. Here he was, helping her again as if his menagerie mattered not at all to him.
"It is my place to remind you of the rules," Stefan said, his voice even. "You, William Frost, have chosen three against three. Two fighters, with you as the captain of yours, and Marsilia as the captain of hers, with the other two participants on either side yet to be chosen. The fight is to the death of the captains."
"Excuse me," I said diffidently. "But both the captains are already dead."
Everyone looked at me. The vampires with cold, unfriendly gazes, and Honey as if I were crazy. That was okay - because I was utterly crazy. I knew Marsilia was planning on making me fight a bug-nuts vampire. The more scared I get, the faster my mouth moves. I was a smart-ass because I was terrified.
Asil smiled. He was supposed to know all about crazy.
"The fight," said Stefan gently, because he knew me that well, "is to the permanent elimination of one captain or the other. Does that satisfy you, Mercy? As soon as that elimination takes place, the other members of the teams may quit fighting - or not, as they choose.
"The captains can call upon anyone to be on their team and those persons cannot refuse. The only stipulation is that they must be present - which for our purposes means within five minutes - of this room. Though I caution you both that an unwilling team member will not fight for you as well as one who chooses to fight. After the teams are chosen, you will each retreat to the farthest corner opposite each other and take five minutes to confer before the battle begins."
Asil caught my eye and quite boldly repeated his earlier gesture. Five minutes away was doable, I knew it as well as he did. Especially if Honey and Asil worked to slow down the vampires.
I looked at William Frost - Gauntlet Boy - and thought about what he planned. All of the bloodshed and chaos, and the people who lost the most would be the humans who lived in those cities. At first. Then those humans would gather their weapons and give battle. Then they would destroy the vampires, the fae, the werewolves - and it would cost them dearly to do it.
I would not, could not allow Frost to do as he planned. I could not let him win. I would do anything I could to stop him. I shook my head at Asil. He gave me a respectful bow.
Stefan walked between Marsilia and Frost, his posture military straight. "For the duration of the fight, the participants may use anything, any power, any weapon that comes to their hand. People who are not participants may not fight. This means that I must caution the audience - and more directly you, William Frost, that no vampire other than those requested by each of the participants, may join the fight. Even if they do not do it of their own free will. Violators will be killed - by me - and if such violation, in my estimation, leads directly to a victory, that victory will be overturned by the Lord of Night."
"You are drawing a very fine line," said Frost, but not as if it made him unhappy.
Stefan bowed his head in acknowledgment. "The rules are the Lord of Night's. My job is to make those rules clear. The first call for comrades belongs to the challenged - Marsilia?"
"I call upon Mercedes Athena Thompson Hauptman, mate of the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack," she said, not unexpectedly.
Beside me, Honey growled, her voice low and threatening. I'm not sure whom she was growling at - possibly me. Asil just stared at me. He knew I'd seen this coming.
"Yes," I said coolly.
I was no match for a necromancer, though I was beginning to think that I might actually be an asset along those lines. I worried Frost enough that he had tried - twice, if Stefan was right - to eliminate me. Fear like that can be as much of an asset as actual power.
"Mercedes," said Asil in a cheerful voice. "You are going to get me killed at last. Bran would not do it, but I believe your mate will have no trouble."
I frowned at him. "I make my own decisions. Adam knows that."
He smiled at me. "He may know this in his head, Mercedes. But his heart will feel differently. You are a woman, and this is a thing of men."
"Asil," I said. "You heard. You want me to turn down this fight?"
He closed his mouth and looked away.
"Touching," said Frost. "But not germane. She is required. She cannot refuse."
Honey snarled at him, and he drew back involuntarily. She looked at me and snarled again, louder.
"He hired the man who killed Peter," I reminded her. She quit growling and looked at him, again, and this time she showed him her very large white fangs. Werewolf fangs are more impressive than vampire fangs. They are more impressive than coyote fangs, too.