Page 23

THAT’S A BET I’LL TAKE

SYDNEY

“I’m not interested in whatever plans you’re hatching for my pants,” I tell him as we approach the gratuitous amount of food splayed out for the teams. “You should know that going in.”

Rory laughs, his head tipped back as the happy sound rumbles out of him. “Ah, Vicious. You cut me, but I promise, eventually you won’t want to do it anymore—unless we’re alone.”

Interesting qualification.

“Being ‘alone’ with anyone isn’t in my goals for this event,” I reply as I pick up a plate. “Not dying is pretty high on the list, though.”

The mage clucks his tongue, sighing as if I’m the most trying person he’s ever met. “Oh, Sydney. It’s not living if all you think about is dying.”

“In Tempest Seven, there’s not a lot to be excited about. You’d know if you lived in a less… accommodating sector, I think.” I purposely don’t say exactly what I’m thinking this time because while I wouldn’t make his choices, I don’t feel comfortable judging him for them. Some people were so attached to the lives they had in the past that they gave up valuable pieces of themselves to maintain that lifestyle.

“Things weren’t as peachy as you think in my sector.”

A change in his mood smacks into me like a truck and I have to press my hand against my gut as it slams into me. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I don’t like it at all. Licking my lips, I take a moment to gather myself before I start looking at the cold end of the buffet. I’m not hungry suddenly, and that’s a sensation I haven’t felt for years. It roils within me as I pick things off the platters anyway, determined not to be weak and angry later on.

Whatever just happened to me can fuck right off.

“Okay. I don’t know shit about the three El Dorado sectors except that’s where the wealthiest supes went,“ I admit as I pile some fruit on my dish. Nice, ripe fruit is a luxury here and I’m going to gorge myself on it during this stupid contest.

Rory snorts as he grabs salad and fruit, making a huge pile on the first plate in his hands. “The only one of us living in an ED sector was the mosquito, Vicious. I may have been a frequent visitor to those camps, but it’s not where I lived.”

I blink as we move towards the bread, trying to summon my appetite again as the fresh smell makes me drool a little. “Um…I thought… well, I assumed maybe…”

“I know.”

The handsome magic user doesn’t elaborate and I’d smash a strawberry in his mug if I didn’t want to savor eating ones this juicy looking rather than waste them. “Well, where the fuck are you from, then? You sure as hell haven’t corrected anyone who assumes you’re from fancy stock.”

“That’s on purpose,” he says, shrugging as we both scoop up hot rolls and butter them. “I prefer to keep my image intact, so you’d have to earn my truth. Even shady folk like me have standards and boundaries—allowing certain things to survive doesn’t change that.”

Rubbing my free hand over my face, I sigh. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Oh, but you did. It's a shame, too, because I thought you were someone who wouldn’t judge me. I guess we’re both disappointed today.”

My eyes narrow and I grab his shoulder, turning him to face me. I’m surprised to see a very blank expression on his features and I realize it must be a mask he wears to prevent people from knowing what his real emotions are. “Rory, I actually did not mean to sound judgmental about whatever it is you do. I believed you were wealthy because of your… behavior and affect… but I don’t hold your choices against you.”

One corner of his mouth quirks for a second, then he shakes his head. “What’s sad, Vicious, is that I think you actually believe that. You’re convinced of what the world was, is now, and what it will become, so you define the rest of us by those standards. It’s admirable in terms of determination and bravery, but you’ve been sold a bill of goods about the rest. Just like Dante has a story much different than you anticipated, so do I.”

I feel like such a goddamn asshole right now and I deserve it.

Pressing my lips together as we scoop meats and hearty entrees onto our plates, I gather my thoughts, picking my next words carefully. “Perhaps you’re right, Rory. We’ve all been fed the tale about the lockdown l—the imprisoned supes and no one bothered to check it. We’re all suffering, so we wrote off that contingent in our minds to make room for those closer to us. Your truth might challenge other things we’ve been told when you are comfortable. I can accept that I don’t know everything if you can accept that I truly did not mean to hurt you.”

His smile is brilliant as he winks at me, all traces of the serious Rory gone. “I didn’t think you meant to hurt me. What I thought is that you’d been spoon-fed a prejudice designed to keep as many supes apart as possible to keep us under their thumbs. Now, finish getting your food and shush before we get caught talking about this shit.”

I dip my chin, trying to hide my shock at his words. Stormbringer is much smarter than he lets on, and the himbo act is exactly that—an act he’s cultivated to protect himself. “Okay. But I’m still not fucking you.”

A brow arches as we approach the dessert section and my eyes widen with excitement. “Twenty bones says you’ll be looking at my cock like that before these fucking games are over.”

Snorting, I stack plates on my arms, desperate to maximize how much I can carry back to the table. “You’re on, magic wielder. But you’d better be good for it because I kneel for no man.”

His smug grin doesn’t give me a lot of confidence, but I’ve managed to fend guys off for years before he showed up; I’ll be fine.

Rory Stormbringer is going down.

“Welcome back to your first real day of training,” Krista chirps from the front of the classroom.

I forced myself to eat enough to keep my energy solid for the rest of the afternoon—I think—but I have no idea what the hell these people are going to work on with us. Everything supes are taught in the schools since the sweeps is specifically non-aggressive , but that’s not what this stupid contest is about. They’ll have to assess each team’s skill level person by person to figure out who was trained before that became illegal. I’m not worried about myself at this juncture; the one thing my dad could teach me was physical self-defense.

The magic part is where I’m going to be deficient.

“These two gents are Brick and Lancaster. They are hybrid supernaturals contracted by the FHSA to work with you because of your special physiology. Don’t worry! They’re very skilled and come with superb qualifications prior to The Unveiling.”

Dante looks at me, his brow arched as if to say ‘see what I meant?’ I guess that means these guys were locked down somewhere because I know they’re not from the Tempest Seven sector. I don’t know if the dragon knows them or knows of them, but he’s very smug right now. They don’t acknowledge him, though, so I’ll have to keep my theories on ice until later.

Brick is built… well, like a fucking brick shithouse. He’s almost as tall and broad as Elias, but the dangerous energy coming from him tells me his physicality isn’t his only strength. The vibes rolling off of him are intense as hell and some of it is frustrated fury. I can empathize with that; being locked up by these clowns and then having to pretend to willingly assist them now has to chafe something awful. I’m not sure what he is; my senses aren’t developed enough to scent it, nor is my experience with rare supes.

In contrast, Lancaster is muscled, but lithe, like Rory. He exudes a dark aura, and his appearance matches it. Everything about him screams pain and vicious intent—so much so that the air gets colder when my eyes fall on him. He’s glaring at Huck and Elias in particular, so maybe his kind don’t like demons or dragons?

Who the fuck knows anymore?

“We’re here to work you both physically and magically, though an assessment of your physical speed, strength, and endurance are on today’s menu,” Brick says in a gravelly voice. “It will allow us to develop personalized, rigorous training routines for each of you, plus detailed team exercises. Once we set that over the next two weeks, we will move to the supe arena to measure those skills and abilities. The process will repeat again until we have that training decided, and your real weekly schedule will be given to you.”

Dante grunts and Sebastian rolls his eyes, but it seems logical to me. Deciding that being the only chick on the team means I’m going to have to be the one to ask, I clear my throat. “Is that all we’ll be doing when the schedule is set or…?”

Krista waves her hand, looking amused. “Of course not. These are beginning battle classes, but you will have strategy courses, marketing with me once branding is set, on-off fittings or shopping trips when we’re live and you gather funds and points, social media sessions, events, and more. Schedules will be packed if I’m doing my job right and you’re doing yours.”

I don’t want to ask what will happen if we're not doing it, even before we hit the field for whatever trials there are.

“Performing monkeys,” Elias says as he looks at me.

He’s right, so I give him a slight nod when our hostess is looking away. A soft chuckle sounds from the front, but I don’t see which one of the trainers made the noise. “Fine. Let’s get this over with then. What do we do first?”

Brick stabs a finger at the track. “Ten laps around this. Start now .”

I blink, looking at the guys for a split second before I jog to the marked track. The sounds of their varied footfalls tells me they’re following along, but I ignore it. I run laps around the entire sector by myself at night when I can’t sleep—which is more often than Huck or Thad know—so I want to be alone while I do it. It’s comforting to the point of hypnotizing, so the room falls away as I simply pace myself. Ten laps around this is a much shorter distance than I’m used to, but it’ll do for now.

“Vicious, wait up,” I hear Rory call, but I don’t even twitch a muscle to let him know I hear him.

The voice that answers surprises me when the bear says, “She’s in her running zone, man. Leave her be. It’s like she’s in another world when she does this.”

How the hell did he know that?

My expression turns irritable as I surmise he’s probably followed me at least once without my knowledge. Maybe Huck has, too, and it rankles me to think they’re sneaking around to ‘protect’ me when I’m plenty capable of it on my own. We’re going to have a come to Zeus moment later on, that’s for sure.

Shaking off my annoyance, I use the jogging time to muse about what we’ve experienced so far. This endeavor had to be at least two years or more in the making; it’s got so many moving pieces and so many variables. Is it possible that some savvy human corporations used Taterman’s hatred of our kind to play a long game? Capitalism is a scourge, so I wouldn’t put it past them. Those dickwads use and abuse their own kind, so getting him to enact the registrations and sectors wouldn’t be hard.

All they’d have to do after The Unveiling was present profit projections and stoke a senile old racist’s fear of the unknown… it would slide through like a hot butter knife.

It’s just as likely Taterman and his fellow crusty old white dudes and their ass-sucking sycophant women did this on their own but discovered they could profit off us, too. After all, they cut every corner on the sectors to pinch pennies, but finding a way to monetize it as well isn’t outside of their wheelhouse. Spinning a positive look on the camps to the rest of the world might help keep the do-gooders who keep trying to get in to inspect from the U.N.B. from making noise.

There are just too many evil reasons for these fuckers to put us in death games; I can’t decide which one is most probable yet. I’ll see the board eventually, though, and that’s when I will be able to plan accordingly. Magic isn’t my strength at the moment, but strategy is, and I’m going to break this entire thing down to nuts and bolts to win.

Freedom will be mine, no matter who I have to go through to get it.