“A very. Bad. Dude.” I nodded sarcastically, which was probably lost in the dim light, as I pulled my knife from its sheath, not having done so before now because Ethan had been leading and I hadn’t wanted to accidentally stab him. Which would’ve happened when I’d fallen.
“The Shadowkiller.” He breathed the name and it ghosted down my spine like cold fingers. Shivers ran through me, and I had to work to force my body to stop.
“Regardless.” The word barely made a sound. My shoulder blades itched, like someone was watching from the many shadows. “The director at this school should know of this place.”
“The director of the elite graduate academy probably does. But if it is top secret, or a school secret, he wouldn’t pass that info on to a bunch of low hanging fruit, like Director Frost or the staff for the trials.”
Derision dripped off of every word. Clearly, he thought the trials were run by a bunch of lackeys. That didn’t make me feel any safer.
Your number is up, and your protection is dead. Best thing you can do is run. Get out of the trials and don’t come back. Run.
I pushed Adam’s voice out of my head.
“Well then, wouldn’t the elite director check it out if he heard about the disappearances?” I asked.
Ethan snorted. “The graduate director is on vacation. He takes one every year during the Culling Trials.”
I pressed my lips closed. There was no point in arguing further. It wasn’t going to get us anywhere.
At the end of the corridor, more shadows cut across stone, almost making another corridor. Warning blared at me from all around. I clutched Ethan’s sleeve. Gregory was down here somewhere, I could feel it, like a direct connection to him.
“Get ready for defensive spells,” I murmured, steeling my courage and stepping forward. “Maybe strap on Captain Entitlement’s cape too. Couldn’t hurt.”
A glint made my heart lurch, and I was twisting and then bending to the side before it registered as a throwing star. The metal flashed as it sailed past my face and clinked against stone at my back. A flurry of movement caught my attention from the way we’d just come. A man running at us.
“Move!” Ethan shoved me aside and blasted a stream of red from his wand.
The man, dressed in black and blending with the shadows, turned his shoulders just enough that the flare of magic zipped harmlessly by. His movements, lithe and graceful, barely hitched as he righted himself and kept on coming.
In the gap we’d been facing, light bent and pulled away as a face inched into view. Sweat glistened within overgrown sideburns. My heart lodged in my throat.
“The Sandman,” I uttered through numb lips. His hand came up, another throwing star between his fingers.
Adrenaline flooded me as Ethan got off another shot at the guy creeping at us. New Guy dove gracefully to the side, Ethan barely missing him that time.
“Come on!” I yanked Ethan toward me, bent, and snatched up the throwing star that had tinkled to a stop five feet away. I spun and threw it at the Sandman. The weapon flew through the air, smoothly as though I’d been doing it all my life.
The Sandman batted it away lazily, close enough now that I could see the two pricks of blood welling up against his skin. He stepped out of the gap.
Ethan zapped off two more spells, one for each man. Both men moved like they were on liquid joints, making me feel like a rusty tin man in comparison. New Guy pulled a knife out of nowhere and sent it flying from his gloved hand.
The Sandman—crap, when had he reached us, I hadn’t even seen him move—shoved at Ethan to further expose me. Thankfully, it also cut me off from the airborne knife. Unfortunately for Ethan, the knife dug into his shoulder.
He cried out, clutching at it. A throwing star zipped by my head, slicing my earlobe.
I gritted my teeth and spun away, pain flaring from the wound. A touch said my ear was still there, so I ignored the throbbing as another knife appeared between New Guy’s fingers. The Sandman pivoted, throwing star in hand one moment, launched the next. The man moved like a striking cobra. The star caught the light as it flew at New Guy, who pivoted on a dime to twist away.
New Guy’s next knife wasn’t aimed at us.
They probably both wanted me dead, but it seemed they weren’t on the same side. I’d take it as a win.
“Come on, Ethan.” He grunted when I grabbed him, his fist around the knife hilt, ready to pull it out. “No.” I stopped him. “Leave it in. It’s plugging up the hole—”
The stranger reached the Sandman and warning prickled every inch of my body, raising the small hairs on my arms and back of my neck. I couldn’t move, I had to watch the two masters meet. The Sandman threw a punch he didn’t seem to think would land, because he was prepared when it didn’t—the second the stranger blocked him, the Sandman jabbed forward with a knife in his other hand. The stranger blocked that with two arms before flourishing a knife he seemed to have grabbed from empty air. He struck to the side, but the Sandman was already moving, their dance as beautiful as it was lethal. These guys were unbelievably skilled.
I snapped out of it. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.” I dragged Ethan to the end of the corridor, ignoring his pained protests. Flickering light played across the cracked and scarred ground, as though centuries of moving heavy things through here had taken its toll on the stone. Or maybe it had been a lifetime of duels like the one behind us. Warning still bled through my body, but it felt nothing like what was going on behind me, so I pressed on, eyes peeled.
“Did your dad teach you to cheat while injured?” I asked in a hush, turning right with the corridor.
“No,” he ground out, his voice soaked with pain.
“And now we know the limits of entitlement, eh?”
“Stop. Saying. That. Word.”
I chuckled, giddy in my terror, as I saw a gap in the stone away to the left.
“Light.” Ethan struggled to point ahead of us, to a soft glow that chased away most of shadows. It wasn’t daylight, though. Logic pointed to a guard’s station or office for whoever came down here. We didn’t need to run into any more magical people if we could help it. Or get stuck in a dead end.
“Here.” I yanked him with me, his forward movement greatly hampered by the pain in his shoulder. “You need to work on your pain tolerance.”
Only one torch lit this corridor, and in a dozen or so feet, I saw why. Bars lined the right side, separated by columns of stone blocks. Benches were pushed up against the opposite wall, as though for viewing.
We inched closer and movement caught my eye, someone stirring from behind the bars. A girl, my age, with an oval face, large blue eyes, and scabbed-over bite marks on her neck.
“Hello?” she asked in a small voice.
A foot scraped against stone. Fingers wrapped around the bars, just visible down the way. A longish nose pushed out and my heart leapt.
“Gregory?”
“Wild?”
My heart swelling with excitement, I started down the line of occupied cells, but didn’t get far. Gregory was in the first one. A smile took over his face, big and broad and so relieved.
“You came! You found me! How’d you find me?” he asked, words tumbling over each other.
A strangled sound dragged my focus back the way I’d come. There, filling the gap posing as a doorway, short and compact and sporting those hideous sideburns, was the victor of the battle of masters. The Sandman. And now, nothing stood in his way.
Well, nothing except a wounded mage in training.
“Ethan—”
I didn’t get to finish the command to move.
The Sandman charged so fast, I lost track of his limbs. Ethan cried out and an axe went flying, revolving end over end until the gleaming edge crashed against the only torch lighting the area. The blade sliced off the flaming top, sending it fluttering to the floor. Once there, it dulled before going out.
Darkness washed through the room—the only light coming from somewhere deeper in t
he tunnel—and the last thing I saw was Ethan sprawled across the floor, curling around his hurt shoulder. A spear of pain drove through my thigh, a knife blade. Another embedded in my upper arm, shallow but no less painful for it. My knife clattered to the ground, having fallen from suddenly relaxed fingers.
“No, Wild!” Gregory yelled, his voice weak. Shouts and screams echoed off the walls and chased each other around the room. A blur of movement made me flinch, the pain throbbing, dulling my reactions. A fist came around, aiming for my cheek.
I pulled back at the last second. The fist smashed into the wall beside me. The Sandman cursed, but he didn’t stop. His leg whipped out, unreal fast, clipping my ankles. My legs went out from under me, my balance already in jeopardy from my wounded leg. I struck out with my good arm as I went down, hitting the second crotch that day. This time, I put a lot more strength behind the punch.
The breath gushed out of the Sandman and he doubled over. I snatched my knife from the ground even as my hip crashed into the stone. Pain rolled through my other side, vibrating through my body now, hard to ignore. I did my best, lashing out with my knife and catching his shin.
The Sandman swore, his voice rough, and pulled his foot back. Adrenaline blasted me one moment before the boot hit my face and darkness stole my consciousness.
Chapter 11
Sleep peeled away slowly, and soft warmth greeted me, cushioning me on all sides. I blinked my eyes open into an unfamiliar room. The beds were arranged in rows, all of them empty except for the one I lay in. Etched into the wall across from me were the words:
Strength is Life. Honor is Life. Loyalty is Life. Death is Life.
I knew without understanding how that I was for the first time seeing the creed of Shadowspell Academy.
A wave of pain washed through my head that drew a groan out of me. I must be in the medic rooms inside the mansion, or at least that was my best guess based on the ache in my head and the astringent smell that curled up my nose.
Darkness pressed against the windows. What had happened to the day? Had the zombie poisoning somehow returned? I remembered the trial, remembered coming out of it, and then…nothing.
I winced, curling my fingers around my forehead, and struggled to remember what had landed me in with the healers.
Adam. Ethan and I had been following Adam, and he’d caught us. He’d grabbed Ethan around the neck and I’d rushed in to help. Had Adam done this to me?
A familiar face approached the bed as a fuzzy recollection took shape of dark eyes staring at me through a mess of long brunette curls.
“Are you okay?” Wally asked, her face somber. “The nurse said she healed what she could of the concussion so you could sleep, but your head will likely be sore for a while. Is it sore?”
I squinted, letting Wally’s words drift around me, trying to remember beyond that encounter with Adam. I’d grabbed his neck and whipped him around. I’d…
I dug my fingertips into my skin, willing the throbbing pain to cease. My memories frayed at the edges and drifted away. There was still half a day unaccounted for.
“What happened?” I asked, dropping my head back onto the pillow. Some pain relief would sure be great. Where was a bottle of Tylenol when you needed it?
“You got into a fight with Ethan,” Wally said, anger lighting up her eyes. “He dragged you in here, unconscious, with a broken nose and two knives sticking out of you.”
I frowned up at her and shook my head, the movement sending waves of agony pinging through my skull. “Ethan? No, that can’t be right. Knives? He doesn’t even carry knives.”
“He got the drop on you, didn’t he?” she asked, searching my eyes for answers to questions that didn’t make any sense. “Why did he slash your ear? Was he actually trying to kill you? I mean, you stabbed him, so all wasn’t lost, but Pete said—”
“So.” A slick voice filled the room, velvety and decadent. Jared drifted closer, his attractive face hard and eyes glimmering with suspicion. He didn’t glance at Wally when he stopped next to my bed. “It seems you provoked another student of reputable standing. It is becoming clear that your goal is to get kicked out of this establishment. Luckily for you, Master Helix has decided not to press charges. I cannot think as to why.”
“Probably because I wasn’t fighting with him. I was following—”
The words died on my lips. Adam stood behind and a little to the side of Jared, the sound of his approach hidden by the pounding of my cranium. His eyes shot sparks of warning at me. Tingles of it stopped my tongue.
“You were following Ethan, yes, he mentioned that,” Jared said, his mouth twisted in distaste. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Adam, before his expression darkened. “Ah. Lovely. I see the director’s minion has arrived. Another reason to leave the office unattended, Adam?”
“Thank you, Jared, you can go,” Adam said, his eyes not leaving mine, his voice steel.
Jared made a frustrated sound. “Surely Madam Director sees that this…creature should be kicked out. Her presence waters down the prestige of the whole school. Attacking a fellow student? A Helix, no less? She amused me in the beginning—thinking to take on three vampires—but that has faded. It is clear she is a danger to everyone here.”
“I didn’t attack him,” I said, pounding my stare into Adam as hard as the pain pounded into me.
“How many more will she attack before your office actually does something?” Jared said.
“Thank you, Jared,” Adam said again, his tone icy and his gaze spitting fire. He chewed off each word. “You. May. Go.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed as they surveyed me. “I will get to the bottom of this. Something isn’t adding up. A full report should be made, regardless of the Helix boy’s decision not to press charges. If it were up to me—”
Adam leaned forward, a small movement. Pressure increased in the room. He didn’t have to say a word.
Jared’s body tensed, and he drew himself up straighter and lifted his chin. “Very well.” He glided out, indignation covering him like a cloak. “This is not forgotten. You can rest assured of that.”
A hard look from Adam sent Wally scurrying from the room, as well. “I’ll just be outside,” she said over her shoulder, clearly not wanting to leave.
“What do you remember?” Adam said, his voice deep and low, sending tremors over my limbs.
“Everything,” I bluffed, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
“That right?” He studied me. “Ethan did this to you, then?”
“There is no way Ethan could stab me. Twice. He’s not fast enough, and you know it.”
“Then who did?” His blank face didn’t give anything away.
I hesitated in naming him, suddenly unsure of my own hazy memories. Besides, at the moment, I had no proof.
“Where’s Ethan?” I asked.
“In your dorm, healed up and preening over his victory against a woman with the potential to be the best Shade the house has seen in years.” Adam’s face gave nothing away.
I shook my head slowly, the effort costing me. What was the point in arguing when I didn’t have the knowledge to do it successfully?
He must’ve realized that from my silence.
“You can’t be the best Shade dead, Wild,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’d really think about your options if I were you. I’d think about leaving.” Without another word, Adam took a step back, turned, and stalked from the room.
A memory flitted through my mind: Your number is up, and your protection is dead. Best thing you can do is run. Get out of the trials and don’t come back. Run.
I’d been walking away from Adam, I remembered that now. We’d fought, but we’d walked away. He hadn’t done this to me. But then who had? Not Ethan. I was sure of it.
I took a deep breath and palmed my head again. “Healer! I need aspirin! Or a lobotomy.”
I also needed to get to Ethan and compare stories. I needed this gap in my memory filled.
The healer, Mara, mentioned she’d keep me under surveillance, monitoring the concussion to make sure it really had healed. If I was in good enough health by morning, I could continue on in the trials. If she deemed it a health risk, I’d be kicked out with a standing invitation to return next year.
No way in hell was I getting kicked out. I doubted they’d have me back. And what would happen to Billy in that case? Would he be forced to come with me? The idea of going through the trials, trying to protect Billy at the same time, made my skin crawl and my stomach roll.
The next morning came slowly between fits of pain and nightmares I couldn’t escape no matter how far I ran in my dreams.
Shaky and determined, I boarded the last bus in the row, the one I’d been told my crew would be riding. There in the back, where Ethan normally claimed space for us, sat a hard-faced crew behind a douche who had either lied or kicked me when I was down. Because there was no way in hell he’d beat me fair and square. If he had, I’d never forgive myself.
Smirks and snickers followed me down the aisle, and if not for my headache and Jared’s threat, I would’ve distributed a dozen knuckle sandwiches.
Ethan glanced up as I made my approach, the seat next to him vacant, and a shadow crossed his deep blue eyes. His gaze hit my arm, then my thigh, before he glanced out the window.
“Well. Hello, master-at-arms,” I sat down beside him.
“Wild!” Pete pushed up in the seat behind me, concerned. “Are you okay? What really happened? Because no way could—”
I held up a hand to stop him. “Great question, Pete. Because the last memory I have is jumping to Ethan’s aid.”
It was a small lie, but I was going to roll with it.
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