“You told the whole class that Kayleigh’s life meant more to you than the rest of the world. That’s the sort of thing that’ll give a girl pause, Skeletor.”
“Isabel was trying to trap me with some ethics bullshit, Sofia.”
“So you were lying?”
I gave the question more thought than it deserved… mostly because I was too damn tired to go back to fighting just yet. “I don’t know. Truth is, there aren’t a lot of people left in the world that matter to me. Kayleigh. You. Maybe a few others. I’m not going to let anyone mess with people I care about… even in a hypothetical.”
“Well, half the first-year women thought it was kind of sweet, while the other half are waiting for you to murder us all as part of some sort of weird romantic gesture.”
“I’m not Lady Valentine, for fuck’s sake.” It was my turn to frown. “Which side was Orca on?”
Silt sighed, and muttered something under her breath. After a moment, her grin came back. “The side that’s going to kick your ass in just a few days if you don’t figure this shit out. Ready for more?”
“Do you have the time? I don’t want to interfere with your date.”
“I’ve got a half hour or so left. Plenty of time to pile-drive you into the dirt some more.”
•—•—•
As I’d said, the tricky part wasn’t calling on my power. It wasn’t even calling on it during a fight. The tricky part was staying out of my head as the fight progressed. The moment I started worrying about what my opponent was doing, or what I was doing, or even about how my power was functioning at all, I’d be right back at square one, getting my ass kicked.
I guess it was a good thing I’d been spending the past eight months learning how to stay out of my own head. All those hours meditating, seeking inner peace and all that shit, and it turned out existing in the moment was the whole fucking key to using my power.
Pretty sure Gabriella Stein would’ve been horrified to realize it. Alexa though? She’d have just smiled that little smile of hers.
Kind of makes you wonder if she knew something all along, doesn’t it?
•—•—•
I could tell I’d found a zone when my aches faded away. Silt’s golem slowed in mid-strike; not snail-slow like the world seems to a Jitterbug, but slower than it had been moving all evening. I slipped one punch, then another without even thinking about it. My answering blows tore through tightly packed dirt and soil.
Part of me heard Silt’s sudden intake of breath and the corresponding exhalation as she fought to keep her golem intact, but both noises were faint and indistinct. My body was already moving, one hand’s fingers extending like a spear to drive through the golem’s shoulder, while the other hand tore at the crease that appeared as if by magic. Then I was past the dirt creature, its severed arm crumbling in my bare hands.
I pivoted inhumanly fast, that same distant part of me watching my planted knee buckle under the strain, and then I was coming back at the golem. My other knee went up into the creature’s core, followed by two open palm-strikes at the same spot. For all of Silt’s power, her creation was really just a walking dirt pile; it exploded into hundreds of smaller fragments, spraying the clearing with dirt.
When the dust settled, I turned towards the Earthshaker. She was on her feet a good ten feet away, brown eyes serious. One thickly muscled arm was extended towards me, palm-down, and the ground between us quivered like it was made of pudding. “You still in there, Boneboy?”
I let my mouth fall open, hiding a wince as the pain my power had been blocking suddenly lit up my knee and both hands. “Braaaaaaaaaaaains.”
Silt rolled her eyes and let the earth go quiet. “Brains?”
“Supposedly, pre-Break Walkers hungered for human brains.”
“Have we not met? I know that. I’m just surprised you do.”
“I did some research a few months back when I was trying to figure out my power.”
She looked at the scattered fragments of her creation. “I’d say you’ve figured it out. Nadia may finally get that fight from you she’s been looking for.”
“Yeah.”
“Thought you’d be happier.” Silt shrugged. “At least you’re not smiling. Is there anything else or can I go get pretty for my date?”
I took a halting step and my knee collapsed under me, dropping me onto the loose clumps of dirt.
“Actually,” I managed, looking up at the stocky Earthshaker, “I could use some help getting to the med ward.”
CHAPTER 56
On the far side of the pit, Nadia went through her warmups, every movement slow and precise. I’d seen her fight dozens of times—including the many occasions where she’d kicked my ass—and her routine never changed; one motion flowing smoothly into the second as if she was practicing katas in the mirror instead of getting ready for carnage. Her blonde hair was in braids, tight to the scalp, and the sleeves of her grey Academy sweatshirt were rolled up to the elbow, exposing deceptively slim forearms.
I probably should have been doing some stretching of my own. Gladys had patched me up after my sessions with Silt, but I was tight and sore all the way from my hamstrings to my neck. My shoulders were the stiffest of all, but that was just tension. This was my last chance to prove I belonged in Combat class.
I couldn’t see Nikolai or the other first-years in the observation room, but I gave a nod to one of the three cameras trained on us from above. I took a long breath, drinking in the familiar smells of blood and dust and sweat and fear. I held the air until my head was swimming and my lungs felt ready to burst, and then I exhaled.
When the oxygen left my body, all my fear, stress and doubt went with it, replaced by the empty void of my power.
Nikolai’s call to start the match had barely sounded before the grey-clad Stalwart was coming forward in a blur. In our first few fights, Orca had used her speed to analyze my movements and measure my response time. After so many easy victories, she no longer bothered.
Guess I’m not the only one who falls victim to expectations.
Nadia’s movement was still too fast to see, but with my brain disengaged, my body translated impulse to action instantaneously. I twisted to one side, feeling a blast of wind as her lead jab slid past me. Her second fist was already on its way, but an angled step forward took me inside the arc, robbing her blow of any real force.
From there, I unleashed my own punch, all triceps and bad intentions, and for one sweet moment, time seemed to come to a halt. I had what felt like years to watch my hand rocketing toward Nadia’s face, to see the widening of ocean-colored eyes as she strained to avoid a strike she’d thought me incapable of throwing. Then time caught up with itself, and my fist impacted right above the cheekbone, the blow resonating all the way up to my shoulder. Her head spun, just a shade faster than the rest of her, and the Stalwart staggered and fell.
I pressed my advantage, but Orca somehow turned her fall into a crouched, spinning leg sweep, the bone of her shin blasting into the meat of my calf. I watched my leg buckle—part of me noting that it was the same one I’d injured fighting Silt’s pet—but pain was distant and hollow, locked away like emotion itself. My weight shifted automatically to the other leg, and I brought my damaged knee forward and up, straight into the crouching Stalwart’s face.
Impossibly, she got one hand up fast enough to brush my knee aside. A breath later, her second hand struck like a spear to my extended thigh, staggering me again. She used the moment to break away, throwing herself backwards almost the full length of the pit.
When she rolled to her feet, she was smiling.
I almost lost my carefully crafted bubble of stillness then and there. Eight months of school, eight months of sparring, and that was the very first time Nadia had ever smiled at me.
It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
She spat out a mouthful of blood, promptly killing the moment, but her pale eyes were sparkling, like ocean waves in the mi
d-day sun. Her voice vibrated with excitement.
“Finally!”
•—•—•
This time, Orca’s approach was measured, displaying none of her earlier recklessness. She circled slowly, testing my defenses with lightning-quick attacks, but I had little difficulty spinning with her and avoiding the blows. With my power flooding my body, banishing exhaustion and pain, Nadia had as much chance of wearing me down as I did Dominion. The small part of my mind that retained conscious thought was happy to declare a stalemate.
Which is when she finally went back on the attack.
I spun away from Orca’s punch as she danced forward, but my answering elbow found nothing but air. She had already ducked down to hammer her open palm into the side of my injured leg. The knee-cap popped grotesquely to one side, but I completed my spin anyway, driving my off-hand down towards Nadia’s face.
By the time that punch arrived, she was gone yet again, springing smoothly past me and back to her feet. Ligaments in my arm stretched and strained as I pulled it back into position at a speed no merely human body was built to support, but as fast as I was, the Stalwart was even faster. Long-fingered hands clasped onto my wrist and shoulder like steel manacles, stopping the motion dead. With a quiet grunt of effort, Orca rotated my arm and pulled.
I didn’t feel a thing, but the pop as my shoulder dislocated must have been audible even on the observation deck.
Orca threw three hammer-like blows to my midsection, but despite the sharp snaps that heralded cracked or broken ribs, I was still moving. I saw that realization enter Nadia’s lovely eyes as she again stepped smoothly away. Then, those same eyes darted from my misshapen leg to my dislocated shoulder and the arm that dangled limply at my side.
Her smile widened.
A smarter man would have seen that smile for the danger sign it was.
A less desperate man might have just tapped out then and there.
I moved forward, one leg unsteady beneath me, my only working arm raised.
And then Orca showed the first-years of Combat class exactly how to stop someone who doesn’t feel pain.
You take them apart. One limb at a time.
I almost wish she’d followed Alan’s months-old advice, and just decapitated me instead.
•—•—•
It was afternoon by the time Gladys let me leave the med ward. I was used to missing Control on sparring days, but for the second time in a month, I’d missed Perception too. I could have caught the last half of Projection if I really wanted to, but every part of me hurt and none of me wanted to deal with Emery Goldstein. In fact, skipping all of my remaining classes sounded like a pretty phenomenal fucking plan.
November was on its way out, but the Los Angeles sky remained bright and blue, the weather mild enough that the grassy hill called the beach was still dotted with students in shorts and tees. I thought about heading out to join them, but my Academy sweats identified me as a Power, and I wasn’t feeling up to the usual whispers and stares.
I got enough of those just limping my way across campus to the first-year dorms.
As I passed into the relative darkness of the common room, Kayleigh bounded up off of a couch, and rushed over to me. My eyes were still too busy adjusting for me to see her expression, but her voice sounded worried.
“Damian! You look terrible!” One small hand wrapped around my bruised wrist, she guided me to the couch. I’d barely seen Vibe over the past few weeks, but she seemed as casual as ever. If Sofia was right, and Kayleigh had taken my argument with Ms. Ferra the wrong way, she’d already gotten over it.
Either that or she just needed another break from her Empathy.
I settled into the couch next to her, trying not to groan. Gladys was taking this only heal the first-years to 80% thing a little too far. “You should see the other guy.”
“We did see her. In Control, this morning.” Kayleigh’s voice was quiet.
“Oh. Please tell me they didn’t heal the bruise?”
“First black eye she’s had in months,” she confirmed. “Was it worth it?”
“Ask me again in a few days, when I find out whether or not I’m still part of Combat class.” I shook out the fingers of my right hand and gingerly formed a fist. It wasn’t until after the fight that I realized I’d cracked two knuckles with my first punch. They were healed now, of course, but throbbed like a motherfucker. “After eight months, it was nice to at least land a hit.”
“You like hitting women, Crow?”
Don’t ask me how I’d managed to miss the silver-eyed Lightbringer on the far couch. Maybe Orca had broken my eyes too. I glanced past Vibe to Olympia and frowned.
“Shouldn’t you be in Projection, Spectra?”
“Mind your own business,” she shot back.
“I will if you will.” I rolled my eyes. “But since you asked so nicely, no, I don’t like hitting women. Even obnoxious ones who treat me like shit. But hitting people is kind of the whole point of the class. Besides, Nadia’s dismantled me every single time we’ve fought… it was nice to turn the tide this once.”
“I heard she still kicked your ass.” Olympia’s eyes were still fixed on the far vid screen, but I could hear the spiteful satisfaction in her voice.
“She kicked yours too, back in first semester, Olympia,” shot back Kayleigh.
“She’s kicked everyone’s asses except for Alan’s, and even there, she holds her own.” I shrugged, wincing as pain radiated through my recently dislocated shoulder. “I know she’s better than me. I wasn’t trying to win… just to show that I could survive.”
“And did you?”
I looked down into Kayleigh’s concerned eyes. “I’ll find out from Nikolai soon enough. For now, I just want to relax and not think.” I kicked my feet up on the nearby table, and leaned back into the couch’s cushions, turning my eyes to the vid screen on the far wall.
After a few moments of blessed non-conversation, I frowned. I’d seen pretty much every Cape vid ever made, but I didn’t recognize this one. It didn’t seem to feature any Capes at all. In fact…
“Are you two watching the news?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s just… kind of boring.”
“It’s the world we’ll be defending when we graduate,” said Vibe.
“If we gradua—” I started to say.
“Besides, you’ve heard Amos. The better we understand current events, the better we’ll be able to respond to, or even predict, future crises.”
“I think he slept through that class, Kayleigh,” said Olympia, her tone still snide, “but here’s a little something that just might grab his interest.” She waved a hand to engage the vid screen’s volume control, and the smooth, cultured voice of the anchorman rolled through the common room.
“…And that concludes today’s address. As you’ve just heard, President Weatherly, in his first major policy change since taking office, has declared next February’s Remembrance Day to also be a national day of reconciliation. For the first time in the Hole’s thirty-year history, family members of the prisoners will be permitted carefully supervised visitations.” He paused, letting that statement sink in and then nodded to the camera. “It’s a bold step, and one that supporters are already saying could define the president’s legacy. For more on the administration’s decision, let’s go to noted sociologist and criminal reform advocate, Dr. Heinrich Wass. Are you with us, Dr. Wass?”
Kayleigh muted the vid screen and turned back to me. “Isn’t your—”
“Yeah.” Olympia had been part of the group that researched me, so she knew all about my dad. I’d told Kayleigh and Silt the story when they came back for the new semester.
If I’d ever questioned Vibe’s claim that she couldn’t read my emotions, her next question banished those doubts forever. “Are you going to go see him?”
I shook my head. Even if leaving campus hadn’t been strictly forbidden, there was no way I was going to blow off the last few days
of school to make a trip out into the desert. Not for him. Not ever.
“That asshole killed my mom. If I ever see him again, it’ll be to return the fucking favor.”
CHAPTER 57
The good news is that Orca kicking my ass—yet again—wasn’t enough for Nikolai to drop me from Combat class. The better news is that he decided to give me one more shot, and the best news of all is that the next opponent ended up being my very own roommate, aka the worst fighter in class not named Damian.
Turns out that was also the bad news. It’s one thing to lose to Alan Jackson or Nadia; pretty much everyone does, and the fact that I’d scored a hit on Orca had to count in my favor. But when you lose to Stonewall? When you end up breaking every bone in both of your hands because his skin is solid rock and your power doesn’t give you the strength or durability to match up?
That’s when you find yourself back in Nikolai’s office.
•—•—•
This time, I didn’t bother taking a seat. Partly because I knew what was coming, partly because I was pissed, and partly because my ass was bruised to hell and back after the fight with Stonewall. Instead, I rested my puffy, swollen hands on the back of the chair and waited.
Nikolai didn’t mince words. “I’m sorry, Banach. You’re out.”
Even knowing the words were coming, I felt the bottom of my stomach drop. “It’s been less than three weeks since I learned how to trigger my powers, Nikolai. Give me more time.”
“I gave you long enough. Much more of this and I have a feeling I’ll be explaining to Bard why he has another dead first-year on his hands.” Nikolai shook his massive head, jaw clenched. “Part of my job is knowing who’s suited for close combat and who isn’t. Like it or not, you’re in that second group.”
“That’s bullshit, man!” After all that work channeling the emptiness that was my power, it was almost nice to indulge in some genuine anger.
“That’s life, kid. Of all people, you should already know that.” He leaned back in his badly undersized chair and fixed me with a glare. “I was part of the Cape team that took down Lord Bone. Did your study group uncover that little bit of information when you were researching faculty?”
See These Bones Page 29