by K M Martinez
“Oh yeah? Well, when I found you twenty minutes ago, you were fucking glowing too. Shall we put you in isolation as well?”
Cori blew out a frustrated breath.
“And tell me something else,” Killian continued. “How did you find her? How did you know to look here, of all places, when neither of us knew the suns even had this place?”
A silent moment passed before Cori spoke. “You’re a fucking prick sometimes, you know that?”
“No,” Killian said, “you’re the prick. Lying to Mel about voting against her and putting every fucking sun under the fucking sun against you.”
“What can I say? I relish being public enemy number one.”
The door creaked open, and someone walked in.
****
Victor ducked the punch thrown by the Ferus descendant. He didn’t remember the man’s name, only that he was one of Cori O’Shea’s close friends, and he hadn’t appreciated what Gabe had just said to Cori.
Of course Gabe couldn’t just leave it in the pit. No, that would be too easy. Instead, he had chosen to say, in a crowd full of tired descendants in line for lunch: “Hey, Cori! Need something to put in your mouth? Why don’t you suck my muthafuckin’ dick!”
Not the best thing to say, but what can you do? Victor thought as his left fist connected with the Ferus descendant’s jaw.
The wolf was made of firm stuff, and the hit had very little effect. Victor blocked the man’s counterpunch, then grabbed the wolf by the back of the head and pulled him over a lunch table.
His brother was fighting another Ferus male, who looked to be getting the best of Gabe at the moment, considering Gabe was bleeding from his nose and a cut on his temple. But Victor knew that Gabe was a feral thing, and loved blood. Loved to feel the warmth of it dripping down his skin. It made him crazy, maybe even happy. Nothing made Gabe feel more alive than a good fight.
This was the third altercation today that he had instigated, and Victor had been so busy dealing with them all that he’d barely had any time to worry about where Mel was. No one had seen his sister all night. She hadn’t returned to the tents, and was still nowhere to be found this morning.
At least Thrash was okay. After his meltdown, he had fully recovered. Grandma Mari gave him a clean bill of health—which included no possession, a concept that Victor still wasn’t sure he even believed in. Was Grandma Mari just being Grandma Mari, the true believer? He didn’t know. But Thrash believed her, and when Grandma Mari told him he was fine, it was clear he was overcome with relief.
Victor had hoped to feel that same relief when Mel showed up, but she never did. He stayed up all night, sitting, waiting, and with each minute that passed, he felt more doubtful that she was okay. Gabe and Thrash spent the whole night searching the grounds, as did Grandma Mari and Tío Jorge. They found no trace of her; no one had seen her.
And then this morning, Grandma Mari had instructed them all to say nothing about Mel to anyone. They were to carry on as if nothing was happening. She alone would continue to search for Mel. It made no sense, but no one would disobey Grandma Mari when she got that look in her eye.
And then, during breakfast, Gabe started to act out. He and quite a few other Kale descendants, Thrash included, cut in front of Cori in line and pretended as if she wasn’t there. Cori had not taken too kindly to this, and she and a few Ferus descendants made their displeasure known. There were a few “foock offs,” which Gabe found hilarious, but when Cori called Gabe a cunt… well, he understood that, and the first fight began. For Victor, this was all way too early in the morning to brawl, so he stayed out of the action, eating his oatmeal as his brother and Thrash scuffled with Cori and two Feruses.
The second altercation was in the middle of the Libero competition, right when the Intermediates were about to begin. Gabe started throwing trash at the Ferus side, and this ultimately led to a much bigger brawl that brought almost the entirety of both clans into the sandpit.
And now brawl number three. All in all, it was an eventful day—almost enough to keep Victor’s mind from worrying about Mel.
Almost.
He watched as Gabe grabbed the Ferus descendant that was pummeling him by the back of the neck, pulled him down, and kneed him in the face. The Ferus collapsed at his feet, and Gabe was just about to kick him, but Victor grabbed him.
“He’s had enough, Gabe.”
“He’s had enough when I say he’s had enough.”
“Brotha, he’s knocked out cold.”
“Where is she?” Gabe yelled terribly, his voice cracking. “Where is she? We’ve looked everywhere!”
Victor grabbed Gabe roughly and pulled him away from the mayhem. By this point, there were other Kales and Feruses fighting. Cori O’Shea just stared at them with quiet intensity.
“Keep it together, brotha,” Victor said gently when they were away and alone.
Gabe took a few deep breaths, his eyes glassy and red. “I keep thinking—”
“Don’t even think it,” Victor said. “We’ll keep doing what we do. We’ll keep an eye out. If you want, we’ll bust some Ferus heads. But don’t think the worst.”
Thrash appeared beside them. “Did Gabe start another brawl?” he asked.
Victor rolled his eyes. “What do you think? How about you, any news?”
Thrash shook his head. “Not yet. But Charlotte and Jonah are walking around, hoping to run into her.”
That’s all they could do for now. Hope.
****
With nothing more they could do, Victor, Gabe, and Thrash sat down to watch the games—though none of them actually paid much attention. Gabe had fallen into a funk, and Victor felt one of his own. And when Charlotte and Jonah showed up with no Mel… Victor could barely stomach the disappointment that overtook him.
Still, when it was time for the Journeymen to compete, he stood, nodded at Gabe, and walked down to the pit.
Libero was a five-event game that dealt with lifting. The first event involved lifting three-hundred-pound barrels. There were five barrels, each of which had to be carried from point A to point B as quickly as possible. This event wasn’t as popular as Decerto; only two descendants per clan were participating in Libero.
Victor took off his boots, his gold tunic, and his pants, revealing the tight gold suit he wore underneath. Then he tied his gold sash around his waist and waited his turn.
The first competition was between a Tam woman and an Ivor man. The Ivor descendant started strong, delivering four barrels before the Tam descendant had even moved her second. He struggled with the last barrel, but was still able to beat the Tam descendant fairly easily.
The next match-up was two males, one from Clan Mayme and the other from Clan Moors. The Clan Moors descendant made the task look effortless, and the Clan Mayme descendant finished fifteen seconds behind him. The next two pairs (Janso and Ferus, and Kale and Tam) had close finishes, exciting the crowd, despite the fact that all four ended with the slowest times recorded thus far. The two pairs after that resulted in the top times of the night.
Finally, it was Victor’s turn. He was paired with Gale Norris of Clan Janso. Victor didn’t have anything against the man, but with everything that had happened the day before, he couldn’t help but shoot the man a furious look.
When the referee blew the whistle, he picked up the first barrel, ran to the platform on the other side of the pit, and set it down. It was only then he realized the platform was set up directly in front of the Janso section. As he ran back to the other side of the pit, Norris was slightly behind him.
Norris continued to shadow Victor through the next three barrels—always there, never too far behind, but not quite fast enough to catch up. But by the time they got to the fifth barrels, Norris was struggling. Victor pressed forward, rejuvenated by his competitor’s difficulty.
He was just about to place his final barrel on the platform when something hit him hard on the shoulder, causing him to lose his grip on the top of the barrel. Th
e barrel slid and fell—all three hundred pounds coming down on his other hand. Victor barely felt the pain; he was too overwhelmed with anger at seeing the barrel roll off the platform. He picked it back up, managing as best he could with his injured hand, and put it on the platform. But he knew from the deafening screams coming from those in front of him that Gale Norris had finished first.
When he looked up, he saw Anton Morel sitting front and center, grinning like a fucking maniac. Victor wanted to kill him. Instead he turned away and walked back to the Kale section.
Gabe stood waiting for him. “You all right?” he asked, looking at Victor’s hand. It was already swelling.
“Yeah,” Victor replied.
“Good. Even with the slip, you’re in third place,” Gabe said, slapping Victor’s shoulder.
Victor tested his injured left hand. He couldn’t make a fist.
“Don’t worry, brotha!” said Gabe. “Next is the squat lift. You don’t need your hand for that! But I’ll get you some ice anyway.” Gabe retreated into the stands.
Gabe was right—Victor didn’t need his hand for the squat lift, which consisted of squatting seven hundred and fifty pounds. The descendant with the most reps received the most points. Victor completed seven reps, enough for first place.
Unfortunately, the next event was the Viking press, which definitely did require the use of both hands. Competitors were tasked with lifting four hundred and fifty pounds overhead, and were again judged by number of reps. Victor was only able to do one rep, and worse, he feared he injured his hand further in the process.
Now he sat with a medic checking his hand and a Libero referee observing.
“I don’t recommend you continuing,” the medic said.
“He’s not,” said a voice. Grandma Mari. “He’s dropping out.” She stepped up to him and leaned in close. “They found Mel,” she whispered.
Victor stood. “I withdraw,” he said to the referee, and he followed Grandma Mari away from the crowd and toward the house.
“Where is she?” Victor asked, when they were out of everyone’s earshot.
“The lower level.”
“What? She despises that place. Said she’d never set foot in there.”
“I know, but she’s not irresponsible. She might’ve never believed in Hae, but she’d never take the chance of endangering others. So where, specifically, do you think we found her?”
Victor thought of the dark room in the dungeon, the one Grandma Mari had once told them, long ago, was for those who were possessed. “The Safe Room,” he said.
“The Safe Room,” echoed Grandma Mari. “She remembers everything I taught her.”
“Who found her?” Victor asked as they entered the house.
“The O’Sheas. One of Cori’s cohorts found me minutes ago and told me.”
“The O’Sheas? How?” The dungeon was clan business; there wasn’t anyone outside of Clan Kale that even knew it existed.
“That’s a question I’d like answered as well,” Grandma Mari replied.
They entered the library. To an outsider, there was nothing special about it, but those of the clan knew that, in one corner, behind a bookshelf, was a hidden door. Victor had always thought it was too cliché, but then again, one couldn’t have doors leading to dungeons out in the open.
Grandma Mari opened the secret door, and they walked through.
As they drew closer to the Safe Room, Victor heard a murmur of voices.
“You’re a fucking prick sometimes, you know that?” said the first voice. Cori.
“No, you’re the prick.” Killian O’Shea. “Lying to Mel about voting against her and putting every fucking sun under the fucking sun against you.”
“What can I say? I relish being public enemy number one.”
Grandma Mari pushed the door open, and she and Victor stepped inside. The two Feruses looked up at Grandma Mari with sheepish expressions.
“You’re not public enemy number one,” Grandma Mari said as she kneeled down beside Mel. “She is. She’s dividing descendants; you have to see that.”
Something was glowing on Mel’s chest. “Grandma…” Victor said.
“It’s just her pendant,” Grandma Mari said. “Nothing to worry about. Not yet anyway.” She placed her hands on Mel’s head, neck, and chest.
Victor didn’t know what to think. He’d never seen Mel’s pendant glow that much, although it always glowed a tiny bit. Come to think of it, he did realize that as of late it had seemed to glow a bit more than usual. Sometimes it was even visible through her shirt.
“But if I was you, Cori,” Grandma Mari said, “I wouldn’t want people thinking I’m with Anton Morel.”
“Unless you really are with Anton Morel,” Victor added.
“I’m not,” Cori said quietly.
“Good,” said Grandma Mari. “Now that that’s settled—Victor, we’re moving Mel to the Sun Room.”
“The Sun Room? What’s that?”
“You’ll see. Just pick her up.” She looked up at Cori and Killian. “You two may come if you wish, but I need blood oaths from both of you. Now.”
There was a stunned silence. Blood oaths were a serious business, exchanged only when sacred secrets were exposed to a descendant from another clan. Killian looked confused, but Cori’s eyes were eager. After a moment, the two wolves recited the words.
“I give my oath to keep my silence. If I should fail to keep my oath, I will pay with my blood and my life, and be struck down from my clan to die without kin. For no one should take in an oathbreaker.”
Then the two drew a knife through their palms and let the blood drip to the ground.
“Good.”
Grandma Mari headed out of the room, and Victor followed, carrying Mel, heedless of his injured hand. Cori and Killian came last, Killian holding a lamp.
Grandma Mari led them away from the torture rooms, through a door that Victor had only been past a few times. It led to an empty room with an alcove in the corner. The alcove held a small sun made of stone. Grandma Mari put her hand on the sun, pulled, and twisted clockwise.
With a squealing of iron, the floor started to shift. With amazement, Victor watched as the floor twisted down, down, down, stone grinding against stone, winding and curving to the side, revealing a set of stairs that led into darkness.
Cori raised an eyebrow. “A basement of horrors and now a secret chamber? What else do you suns got hidden away?”
“Clan secrets, wolf,” Grandma Mari replied. “I’m sure Clan Ferus has a few bodies hidden away.”
Killian O’Shea held the lamp over the staircase and peered down curiously. “A few,” he said. “But at the moment, I’m more interested in where these stairs lead. May I?”
At Grandma Mari’s nod, Killian walked down the stairs. Grandma Mari went next, followed by Victor, who had to go slowly and be very mindful of the steps, as they were too small for his feet. He wasn’t too concerned with Killian and Grandma Mari getting too far ahead with the lamp, as Mel’s pendant gave off enough light for him to see. Cori brought up the rear.
“So,” she said. “You haven’t been down here either?” Her voice was soft.
“No.”
“She has her secrets, your grandmother.”
Victor’s foot slipped on the edge of a step. Regaining his balance, he huffed, “Yes, she does.”
At the bottom of the stairs, they stepped into a high, round chamber. The ceiling and walls featured intricate carvings of angels and beasts. Seven alcoves lined the circumference of the room, and another doorway stood on its opposite side.
“Is this the Sun Room?” Victor asked, transfixed.
“No,” said Grandma Mari, and walked straight across to the other doorway.
“Fuck me,” Killian said, standing in the center of the room with the lamp aloft.
Cori traced one of the carvings on the wall; it depicted a wolf bearing down on a man. “All the seven clans are represented here,” she said in wonder.
> “Killian O’Shea!” Grandma Mari snapped. “Where is my lamp?”
Her voice echoed loudly, and the others jumped and hurried after her.
They continued down a long hallway, past several doors. “Jesus, Grandma,” Victor said. “How much longer?”
“We’re here,” she said, stopping at an open doorway. “Light!”
Killian stepped through with the lamp, and Victor followed. As he crossed the threshold, he noticed that Mel’s pendant winked out.
It was obvious why this was called the Sun Room. A Kale sun spanned the entire floor, and another filled the ceiling. They were reflections of one another, except one was black and the other gold.
“Lay her here, Victor,” Grandma Mari said, pointing to the center of the black sun on the floor.
Of course, right? Gotta lay the dying person in the middle of the sun.
Victor laid Mel down and stepped back.
Grandma Mari knelt next to Mel, who was trembling and mumbling. “Mel? Mel? Open your eyes.”
Victor knelt on his haunches. Killian stood back, while Cori moved closer and rested her hands on her knees. Mel said nothing, but her body began to writhe.
And then she screamed.
“Can we do anything for her?” Cori asked.
Grandma Mari kept her focus on Mel. “Mel!” she snapped, commanding. “Let me see your eyes!” She tried to physically pry an eye open. Mel turned her face away, but Grandma Mari managed to open her left eye.
Victor stood up, stunned and afraid. Mel’s eye was gold, with a slit for a pupil. It looked… reptilian.
Killian O’Shea rubbed his shaved head. “Fuck me!”
Mel’s screaming broke off, and she quieted.
“Grandma?” Victor said. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Hold on,” Grandma Mari replied, shooting a look at Cori, who had linked hands with the unconscious Mel. Grandma Mari grabbed Mel’s other hand, but it was clutched tight in a fist.
That hand must be holding the stone, Victor thought.