Page 7

TROUBLE IN RIVER CITY

SYDNEY

The fake ass people Brickman just introduced remind me of animals that look cute and friendly, but are actually plotting how to kill you from the moment they lay eyes on you. I suppose that’s accurate—no one here believes these games are about giving anyone freedom. No, this is about making money off of the base instincts of humans worldwide wanting to watch us kill each other for sport. Anyone who takes a job ‘coordinating’ that shit has the moral compass of a great white—existing to do nothing but consume everything in their path.

I’m far too poetic for this early in the morning; what the fuck is with me?

“I reckon these city folk are going to shovel a whole lot of bullshit, then try to make us eat it with a smile,” Huck murmurs. “Listen closely, friends. I smell magic in the air and I don’t fucking cotton to it.”

My brow furrows as I lean closer to him, whispering near his ear. “You think they’re forcing witches or other supes to infuse their tech with compulsion magic? Like, to get us all to agree to their madness on camera?”

Huck shrugs and I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Even dampened, he’s better at ducking that kind of shit than Thad and me. He’s a shifter and I’m… mostly unknown… so we don’t have the ability to block mind tricks as well as him. “Just fucking great. The witches are so easily bought. Being so close to humans makes them believe they’ll be accepted some day.”

“Not you, sweet pea. You know that a bull without horns is still smart. The rest of ‘em are useless as chicken shit on a pump handle.”

Thad groans and looks over at us. “Are you just going to get more annoying with these people here? ‘Cause that was almost unintelligible, man.”

I duck my head, smiling a little. “I knew what he meant. I’m smart enough to realize that the Markers don’t take away all the things that make me powerful while the other witches are dumb. Right, cowboy?”

The demon reaches up and tips his hat a little as he winks at me. “Beautiful and brilliant as always Sydney.”

My elbow finds his ribs and he has to cover his yelp so we don’t draw attention. “Translating your shit doesn’t mean I’m going to let you flirt with me, idiot.”

“You wound me, sweet pea, both physically and emotionally,” he says dramatically. “But I’ll never give up, so be prepared.”

Ugh. Men are so fucking incapable of comprehending reality.

“Thad, what did your uncle say last night?”

The bear shakes his head, pointing at the stage. “Not now. They're finally going to talk finally.”

My gaze moves to the plastic people in their designer outfits and expensive shoes. The woman Brickman called Melinda is built sturdily for a human with dark, glittering eyes that lack emotion. She smiles broadly before she speaks, but there’s not an ounce of emotion in it. “Good morning, F.E.A.R. Academy!”

Silence descends on the room and the smile falters for a brief second before Brickman gestures behind the two coordinator’s backs. It takes a moment, but a low rumble that repeats the greeting echoes in the gym. Melinda’s lip twitches on the projection screen behind them, but she goes on. “Pat and I are here to get you all ready for the biggest event of your young lives. We each have detailed plans for both the boys and the girls that will guide you through the preparations your teams must make for the competition. But first, we must balance the scales, as they say.”

I snort, leaning into Thad. “Biggest event of our lives? Bigger than being put in prison camps?”

“Justice is what balances scales, Syd. Obviously, this woman is drinking her own Kool-Aid if she thinks supes will believe either of them have the power to do more than put lipstick on a pig,” Huck mutters. “We’ll be okay.”

“That’s right, Melinda,” Pat says with a big, game show host looking smile. “We can’t groom these students for success until we have their teams settled and formed. So with the guards' assistance, we’d like any full, six member team to stand, then make their way quietly to the back left corner of the gym so our staff can fill out your necessary paperwork.”

Looking around, I estimate the stands have about three hundred students. That would give them fifty teams of six, but some of the students won’t be qualified to play. There are a few that are injured or medically unable to do much—whether it’s an injury from birth, a pregnancy, or one from the sweeps and camps. If my estimate is right, it’ll cut that down to forty-one full teams, so they’d need at least fifty outsiders to make this work.

That’s not terrible.

But the number of people who stand in groups is much smaller than that, and I watch as about twenty-five groups make their way to the area we were instructed to go. I guess I thought more of the shifter groups would band together, but it seems like a lot of people aren’t ready to put their lives in the hands of the supes they live with. They can’t be bringing in that many new mouths to feed, right?

“Excellent, kids. We love your enthusiasm!” Melinda beams as she claps. “Now, the remaining half of you are in for a real treat. We’re going to have you shuffle down to the front right corner there to fill out your forms so we can match you with our newest Tempest Seven residents. These players have been brought from sectors all over the country and our very own seers have volunteered to read the energy on your forms to match you with the remainder of your teams.”

Is she mental? That’s not how seers work.

Thaddeus shifts, his voice low as he looks at Huck and me. “This woman doesn’t know her ass from her elbow. Seers went to ground long before the first sweeps. Any race that had a live line made sure they were hidden before The Unveiling. It was the only smart thing our leaders did.”

“And they were rare as hen’s teeth anyway,” Huck says. “Fae probably had some, wand wavers might, maybe demons—can’t rightly think of anyone else who would have. And none of those groups would ever share someone who knows the damn future.”

I squint at the two blindingly vapid people on the stage with Brickman. “Then what the fuck are they talking about?”

Huck sucks in a breath, then lets it out slowly. “My guess is they have a group of supes who are skilled at cons. They likely read auras, have empathy, and the like, but are well versed in micro expressions, cold reading, and the like.”

“Shit,” I say when it dawns on me. “They finally tagged all the supe circus folk.”

Thad groans and stretches his legs out as he puts his hands on his face. “Man, those assholes were like folk heroes. Everyone pointed them out when the young ones get discouraged. If they got the circus—the entire circus—and broke them up to use for this shit, how long have they been planning to do this?”

I blink. “From the beginning, Thad. From the beginning.”

Our realization makes everything feel drastically worse, and we’re quiet as Melinda and Pat call down rows of the unmatched supes one by one. They started at the top, so it will be a bit before they get to our section, but a stone is sitting in my gut as I watch students in twos, threes, and fours make their way to the table where they each take a clip board and fill something out. After that, a guard leads their group out of the gym to fuck knows where, and they start with another waiting group. It’s smooth, but only because the Markers keep everyone from using their powers in a panic.

You can tell by the look on most of the students’ faces that they’ve figured out a pay-per-view death match was in the cards from the start.

I flex my fists in my lap, wishing I had something more to contribute than some shitty basic magic. At least Huck and Thad have strength, speed, and power despite their Markers. I’m as useless as the witches Huck described earlier unless someone wants heated coffee or plants to grow. Very basic earth and water magic is all the Marker left me. The new team members are going to want to abandon me, I just know it.

“Stop fretting, sweet pea. Your brain is worth ten strong bears or wolves,” Huck says with a smirk.

My eyes narrow. “Don’t read me, asshole. You know I hate that. Are you sure you aren’t part carnie like these seers they claim to have?”

He winks at me, but doesn’t answer. I frown as he goes back to watching the descending groups with eagle eyes. It’s always bugged me that we don’t have Huck’s whole backstory, but Thad has good judgment. I know he wouldn’t put me in danger, so I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing keeping the shady Southern demon in our orbit.

But he’s got a lot of skills I wouldn’t expect from anyone who hasn’t dabbled in the darker crevices of life.

“I don’t get where they got all these extra people to shuttle all over to fill the teams. Did they do more sweeps? Find people hiding?”

My ursine friend drapes his arm over my shoulders, squeezing me against his side. “I heard the camps below the Mason-Dixon are bursting at the seams. The ones out West, too. That sound right to you, Huck?”

He nods. “Even a couple years ago, parts of the country were overloaded. Lots of supes hide from humans in places like mountains, swamps, forests, and such. Large communities were scooped up that consisted of generations of supes living communally, especially those that like to be in packs or prides or covens. They used vampires to locate a lot of ‘em. That’s why they started processing centers after the Second Sweep, Syd. They gather us all up and ship us to different parts of the country depending on space.”

“But what about families?” I say softly.

“Sorry, sweet pea. Humans don’t give a flying pig’s fart about that. They tore babies and kids and parents apart, shoving them into different housing then supposedly sending them to specific places. But…”

My eyes widen. “Holy fuck. You don’t think they…” Thad hugs me a bit tighter as the realization dawns on me. “In the crowded areas, you think they trafficked supes to cut down on costs and shit.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Human hunters, fetishists, killers… There's a lot of money to be made if no one can track down where people go. It’s intelligently designed, weaponized incompetence. Something has to pay for all those fucking platinum shitters, and Taterman thinks we’re lower’n roaches.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” I mutter as I lean forward and put my head between my knees. “I knew these assholes were evil, but…”

“That’s why I never underestimate this shit,” the demon says. “I visited friends in low places last night just to see if I could get the scoop on what kind of shit they’re doing to bring these people in for this.”

Turning to look up at him, I groan. “Huck, spill it or let me focus on not puking. No third option.”

“Dude, you never said?—”

“Shhh,” Huck says to the bear before continuing. “I went to see Angus. The grimy little shit had to lose half his damn take for the night before his tongue loosened, but I got a wee bit. The humans used the rail lines to cargo in over a hundred supes, some in goddamn cages, a week ago. They built them housing just outside the borders of Tempest and not a peep has come from that camp since they arrived. They’ve got a barrier around it.”

I lift up, my body suddenly stiffening. “Cages, Huck?”

“Yep. Seems like some of the teams will be getting lockdown losers to fill their ranks.”

“Are you kidding me? Isn’t that dangerous?” I hiss.

The fear demon smirks. “I highly doubt they give a fuck about our well-being, sweet pea. Using the powerful, crazy, and criminal makes for good TV.”

Raking my hands over my hair, my mind races with the possibilities. Using lockdown species means we could get a vast number of supe types that I’ve never seen, much less know how to work with. A look at Thad tells me he’s more than a little worried as well. We’ve both been here since the beginning and grew up within a hundred miles of Tempest unlike Huck.

“So we’re forcibly entered in bullshit death matches for the world to watch while the humans rake in cash and we might have teammates who want to kill us? That sum it up?”

Unfortunately, our friend doesn’t get the chance to answer because our row is called down to the table and we have to face the music.

Nothing in this world has been right since that stupid virus; I don’t know why I expected this to be any different.