Isle of Night
Page 40“Lilac might not win.” Emma sounded tentative.
I gave her a half hearted smile. “Thanks, Em.”
“Not win the semis?” Yasuo shook his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Von Slut-thing’s going to butcher that girl. She’s owned every single one of her opponents.”
He was right. Tracers had gathered by the platform, standing by.
Emma stared in wonder. “Where do they take them all?”
“You tell us, Yas,” I said. “You’re the vamp in training. What happens to the not-quite-dead girls?”
Emma grew preternaturally still. “I wonder if this whole thing isn’t just a way for the vampires to cull the weak from the herd.”
Yasuo rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Farm Girl.” He turned his focus on me. “Enough speculation. Now, listen up, D. All signs point to you fighting Lilac tonight. You need a strategy.”
I nodded weakly, feeling ill. Strategy wasn’t good for much when your opponent didn’t feel pain.
“What’s her deal, anyway?” Yas asked, and we all turned our eyes to her.
Lilac was long and lean, with that maple hair pulled back into a sleek braid. She looked entitled, confident, and gorgeous, in a vanilla sort of way. I shrugged. “Rich . . . white . . . boarding school. I don’t know.”
He snorted. “Maybe she learned all her crazy-ass moves playing field hockey.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Emma roused to life. “You could beat her.”
Good old naive Emma. She had no idea what I would be up against if Lilac won the semifinals.
The gong sounded. It was time for Lilac’s match.
The girls stepped to the middle of the platform. It was Lilac versus a tall Valkyrie-looking creature with close-cropped hair, perfectly cut biceps, and cheekbones that went on for days.
The gong sounded a second time, and Lilac sprang from her corner, swinging her weapon over her head. My friends and I laughed nervously, seeing that she’d chosen a shinai, the long, bamboo sword we used in Japanese kendo practice.
My blood ran cold. “What the hell is she planning to do with that?”
“That won’t cut anyone,” Emma said.
A third gong tore my eyes from him.
We stared at Lilac’s opponent on the platform. By the way she writhed around, clutching at her neck, it looked like Lilac had just jousted her in the throat.
“It’s over already?” Emma whispered. The fight had gone on for less than ten seconds.
Priti’s voice was clear above the crowd. “Acari Lilac advances to the final round.”
“Crap,” Yasuo muttered.
I looked at Lilac, and her gaze was waiting for me. We locked eyes. She looked eager, raging.
I wanted the Directorate Award. I wanted off the island. But did I want it badly enough to face a girl who was more physically adept than me, who felt no pain, and who’d held me locked in her sights from day one?
My body went cold. “Looks like I’m fighting Lilac.”
“You can do it,” Emma said.
I kept my face blank, but inside I was freaking out. “What if I can’t stop her?”
“You’ve been able to do it in these last matches,” Yas said. “Pretend this is just another one.”
But it wasn’t, because von Slutling was like the Terminator. “You don’t get it.”
Emma leaned close. “Lilac may be the best fighter in our class, but you can outsmart her.”
Yas nodded agreement. “You’re smaller, D, and that makes you wily. Defensively, you’re solid. Plus you have that fancy brain of yours. Outthink her.”
“No, seriously, guys. You don’t get it.” They both opened their mouths to protest, but I cut them off. “Lilac doesn’t feel pain.”
That shut them up.
I regretted it instantly. Ronan had sworn me to secrecy. But I told myself not to feel guilty—information like that was too huge to keep to myself. For all I knew, this was the last time I’d talk to my friends; I had to warn them. “But you can’t tell anyone.”“Yeah, yeah,” Yasuo said, waving off my statement. “I get it. It’s a secret. But how did you—” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ronan told you, didn’t he?”
I gave him a tense nod and was grateful when Emma broke the silence. She was looking at me in utter disbelief. “But everyone feels pain. Everybody feels something. Eventually.”
I glanced at my enemy. She was greeting her well-wishers in the audience. Bruises and scratches covered every inch of visible skin, but still she slinked around like a cat. “Not von Slutling.”
“How can she not feel pain?” Emma sounded perplexed.
“Rare genetic disorder? Mommy drank too many in vitro cosmos? How the hell should I know?”
Yasuo’s eyes widened in question. “But you’re still going through with it?”
I came close to saying no. It would’ve been so easy. But I sensed Master Alcántara’s gaze on me, and that morbid fascination shivered up my skin. It left confidence in its wake.
I was the best student. I had the most potential. The award belonged to me, though doubts nagged at the back of my mind as I wondered how much I was driven by pride, how much by the urge to escape, and how much I simply wanted to beat the crap out of my roommate. “I am.”
Yasuo sighed. “Then let’s do this thing.” He turned and openly studied me. “Okay. Headlines.” He crossed his arms over his chest, determined to distill the whole situation to fine points. “The girl’s got height on you. She feels no pain—whatever that means. And her gift is fire?”
“Her gift is pain, and her skill is fire.”
Yas threw his hands up. “What the hell does that mean? Fire? Dude, you’re psyched she’s not busting any of that out here.”
“How do you know she won’t?” Emma asked.
Yasuo countered, “How could she? How would someone here even fight with fire?”
I’d wondered the same thing. “I don’t know. Flamethrower? Though I definitely would’ve seen it if she’d been hiding that in our room.”
“She could spit flames,” Emma said. “Like in the circus.”
Yasuo stared at her, his eyes wide. “Girl, you amaze me. Were you raised in a barn? Oh. wait. You were, weren’t you?”
Emma shot him one of her rare smiles.
Were they flirting? “Guys, can we get back on topic?”
I could’ve sworn Emma blushed.
“Do you have a better idea? A knife suited me just fine in the last fight.” My tone was a little prickly. I considered myself pretty decent at blade work.
Yasuo put his arm around me, but he kept his eyes glued to Lilac. He leaned down, talking low. “Yeah, Drew, you’re good. But this fight . . . it’s going to go fast. You’re going to grapple. Von Slutling’s not exactly going to flash her exposed back like your Draug did.”
“Why not use your stars?” Emma asked.
“Who says I don’t have them? A little duct tape, a couple makeshift pockets, and voilà.” I hiked up my wide-legged sparring pants and waggled my ankle. “I stowed them on the side of my boots.”
“Neat.” A smile flickered on Emma’s face and was gone. “But isn’t that against the rules?”
“The rule is ‘Acari may carry one weapon into the ring.’ Get it? Carry. Like, in your hand.” I smiled innocently. “I’m just following the letter of the law. That’s what they taught us to do, right?”
It was evening by the time our fight rolled around, the sky an eerie half-light, like the sun was shining in from another room. Master Alcántara stood between Lilac and me on the platform. His mischievous smile told me he was enjoying every minute of the spectacle.
Alcántara said something to her—I’d have done anything to hear—and then he came to me.
“Cuídate, cariño.” His whisper was mellow and sultry with promises. Goose bumps shimmered over my skin, and I had to blink hard to clear my head. He chuckled, low and throaty. “That’s it. Keep your head. Sharp wits are deadlier than any blade.”
The palm of the hand that held the knife began to sweat. Was this all some sort of cruel lesson that combat came down to wits?
I panicked. I’d picked the wrong weapon. A switchblade would be worthless. Especially against that long bamboo sword.
Watcher Priti sounded the first gong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lilac and I bounced on the balls of our feet. I was going to let her make the first move so I could get a sense of her strategy. I needed to understand as much as I could about her mind-set beyond the fact that I resembled some kid from her past whom she’d apparently hated, then murdered.
Lilac ran toward me, swinging that sword, long as a pole. The crowd was silent, and the scuff of her feet on stone echoed around her. Her attack was abrupt, erratic.
“Easy, Cowgirl.” I skittered out of her way, careful not to topple off the stone in the first five seconds of the fight. I’d already seen three girls fall to the ground and knock themselves out. There was no way I was ready to get whisked away by a Tracer.
I concentrated on the hard rock under the soles of my boots. I am roots in the earth. I am water that flows. I whispered a new mantra, for good measure. “I am stone.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">