‘Greetings, my warriors,’ Takapa said vaingloriously. ‘You stand before me now because you have survived a number of trials by combat. Those who fight and triumph tonight shall rank as officers in my private army. You shall enjoy power and privilege. A place in the new order I am bringing to the lupine community.’ He paused, impressively. ‘In ancient Rome there were many kinds of gladiator. The Samnite, a helmeted warrior with sword and armour … The Thracian, with his curved dagger and shield of bronze … Retarius, the net fighter, a bloodied trident clamped in his hand …’

Kate surveyed the motley crowd shifting impatiently about below her, muttering and whispering. They seemed unimpressed with Takapa’s lecture. Perhaps he guessed this, because he cut it short:

‘But you! You are a fresh breed of gladiator, a new invention. You have no weapons save your cunning and your savagery. No armour save the toughened hide of the magnificent creatures you can become. Fight well for me in your factions, and you shall no longer be caged, treated no better than animals. I will bestow honour on you, give you purpose. You shall be allowed to serve me and all our kind.’

Again, he paused, and this time the people in the arena stayed silent.

‘I promise you blood!’ he shouted, exultant. ‘I promise you carnage. I promise you the future. Now – fight!’

No one moved. One or two of the guards raised their weapons threateningly.

Then Swagger rose to his feet. ‘You want your next fix? Get going! Now!’

Had the Emperor Nero ever had this kind of trouble? Kate thought darkly.

But Swagger’s practical threats clearly won out over Takapa’s rhetoric. A few half-hearted scuffles were breaking out amid the different factions. Soon the skirmishes were escalating to full-on fistfights – and suddenly, just like in some bad Western movie, everyone was getting caught up in the fighting. Throughout the arena men and women were shouting, threatening, throttling, tearing into each other; just like she’d witnessed before, but on a much grander scale.

Then suddenly the wire mesh hammock supporting her lurched. She felt herself drop a fraction. One of the ropes lashed around the concrete pillars, securing the vast net in place, was giving way under the sheer weight of the doctored meat. It slipped again. The net tilted a little to the left, then a little more, threatening to ditch its haul.

If the hammock gave way completely she would plunge ten metres down into the heart of the bloody battle below.

Chapter Seventeen

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tom followed Jasmine down into the arena’s dirty lobby. Stacy and Rico came out from behind a crumbling concrete pillar as they arrived. ‘Are my parents safe?’ he asked Stacy.

She nodded. ‘And looking pretty perky considering the number of scary viruses they’re carrying.’ She fanned her face with her hand. ‘It was looking kind of hairy for a while, but the plan worked.’