Except I don’t move. Because Sora isn’t sleeping. He’s dead. And I can’t just leave him here.
Shit.
Without my strength, carrying Sora won’t be a picnic. But beauty queens aren’t exactly made of fluff. We gotta have good musculature underneath, or all the dieting just makes us look like a sad, plucked chicken. “Stringy,” is what Mama used to say of a girl who was nothing but bone and skin.
I pull Sora up into a sitting position and then get behind him and wrap my arms around his middle. Then I stand. He comes up with me, but his feet drag in the dust.
I end up walking backwards, so my legs don’t get tangled up with his. It doesn’t take long before my arms start to ache. Even worse, I have no idea if I’m going in circles or not. I really need to find Leto or the minotaur or some other person before I completely lose my shit.
Finally, I come across Constantine sitting in the middle of the path, tossing pebbles.
“Oh thank gods.” Tears of relief fill my eyes. “Another person.”
“Hey BJ. Guess how many times the minotaur has caught me?” He tosses a pebble into the air and catches it. “Ten times. I’m losing this thing if it kills me. Last time it actually ran from me.” He looks up from the ground, for the first time really seeing me—and what I carry. “What’s wrong with Sora?” He scrambles to his feet.
“I found him like this. He wasn’t breathing and…” My legs give out and I fall to my knees, Sora’s body rolling to the ground.
Constantine backs away. “You’re messing with me, right? This is a prank?”
“I wish,” I tell him, starting to cry again. “So the minotaur didn’t ever hurt you, right?” Looking confused, Constantine shakes his head. “That’s a relief. Do you think the minotaur will take us to Artemis?”
“Of course, he—” Constantine stops talking as we both hear a snuffling sound from the other side of the corn. With it comes the particular stench of a boy’s locker room…if the boys had all been dead for a week.
I say, “I smell him,” right at the same time that Constantine says, “I hear him.”
“Hey! Hey you, Mister Minotaur!” I start yelling. “Come and get my corn-fed ass!”
I don’t know if it’s my ass, the corn part, or the fact that it’s just his job, but I can just see his bull horns above the corn stalks as he does a complete one-eighty. Half a second later, all eight feet of him is barreling toward us. His giant bull head is fierce and his eyes bright.
I really hope he didn’t take my ass comment too literally, but I don’t have time to take it back…until he spots Constantine.
The minotaur’s face takes on a bull’s version of “oh shit.” He screeches to a halt, spins around, and immediately runs the other direction.
“Ugh,” Constantine sighs. He looks at me apologetically. “Sorry.”
But I hardly hear his apology; I’m charging after the minotaur, screaming at him to stop. Utterly panicked, the bull can’t hear me. Luckily, the dude obviously spends all his gym time working the weights and none at all on cardio. Even though I’m worn out, but I force my legs to push harder and am able to close the distance between us. Unsure how to actually stop him once I’m close, I take a flying leap at him.
We roll, my cute little safari hat getting crushed and my outfit totally suffused in minotaur musk. He gets to his feet, realizes that I’m not Constantine, and makes a grab for me. I dodge, holding my hands out.
“Wait! Please, Mr. Minotaur. I’m not trying to stop you from doing your job. In fact, I want to get back to Artemis. But I need your help.”
He cocks his head at me, interested, like he’s listening. But his eyes are going places they don’t need to in order for him to hear me.
This might be his maze, but I know this game. I flick my ponytail, bat my eyelashes, and deliver the weirdest come-on line I’ve ever had to utter. “Can you please carry a body for me?”
His head goes back in the other direction, like a puppy that was just told to poop inside. He’s surprised, but after a moment of hesitation, he reaches out a strangely gentle hand. Taking it, I lead him to Sora’s body. He stares down at it with a furrowed brow. And then sighs.
Leaning down he scoops Sora up easily, then, he touches my elbow at the same time that Constantine grabs on to my other arm—
Suddenly we’re standing before Artemis where she waits at the front of the maze. Catching sight of Constantine first, she huffs loudly.
“Honestly, how many times are you going to get out?” Artemis asks him, clearly frustrated. “You’re already losing by a huge margin.”
“I don’t think I’m losing this one,” Constantine says motioning to me and Sora’s body, which the minotaur has deposited at my feet before going back into the maze.
“I found him like this. I don’t know what happened,” I tell Artemis. She barely glances at the body.
“Leto is still not found. You need to return to the maze,” she says.
“Excuse me?” I say, in the same tone that Marilyn Montgomery used when the judge of the All Around All Organic Competition accused her of having breast implants. It stopped that judge in his tracks, but Artemis doesn’t even blink.
“Your mentors were supposed to explain how dangerous this was,” Artemis tells me. “You must compete until there is a winner.”
“Someone dies and you don’t even care?” Constantine says exactly what I’m thinking. But then he adds two words that were not on my mind. “I quit,” he shouts. “I’ve been trying to quit this whole time! I should never have agreed to participate in the first place, but my sister said it would be good for the pack.”
“There is no forfeiture,” Artemis tells him, blowing on a small silver whistle that hangs around her neck. Taylor appears, her expression not changing when she sees Sora’s body. Instead, she makes a notation on her clipboard, then motions for the Amazons that accompanied her to step forward and carry away Sora’s body.
Artemis turns to me. “Whatever your intentions were, this counts against you. The minotaur tagged you, regardless of the circumstances.”
“I don’t care about that right now,” I shout. “Sora is dead, and the minotaur didn’t kill him. That means one of the other contestants did.”
“You are competing to become the next head of the gods. It comes with a price. Some will pay with their lives.”
Constantine and I eye each other. I see the same resolve in his that I feel within myself. I sit right down on the ground and refuse to budge. Constantine does the same. Mama always said you gotta fight for what you believe in. And if you don’t believe in it, get in a good crotch shot before you go.
“I’m protesting,” I tell Artemis, and fold my arms.
It’s just like when the organizers of the Miss Bee’s Knees competition were going to require all contestants to use only razors as a form of hair removal, since bees didn’t receive a fair compensation from the sale of wax in the beauty industry. We’d all camped out in front of their offices for almost seventy-two hours, tweeting pictures of razor burn and ingrown hairs until they caved.
Artemis snaps her fingers and Taylor puts down her clipboard. She stands in front of me, clearly enjoying what’s about to happen.
“Taylor, please physically return BJ to the maze.”
Taylor stoops to pick me up, but I didn’t grow up on the pageant circuit for nothing. I can throw a fit as well as the next girl, and every toddler knows how to avoid being picked up. I let all my muscles relax, and I fall right through Taylor’s grip, slithering to the ground.
“Go limp!” I yell at Constantine, as his own Amazon attempts to move him.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time!” he yells back at me.
Before I have a chance to clarify, Trevor suddenly tears through the maze opening, carrying Leto over his shoulder like she’s a bag of flour. The other contestants magically appear around us.
Trevor places Leto before Artemis. “Three cheers for me! Hip hip huzz
ah!” When no one joins in, he shrugs. “I’m the winner. Which one of you losers is the loser?”
He spies me sitting on the ground and gives me a quizzical look, while Artemis announces in her booming voice, “Sora has lost this trial.”
I stand up. “That’s not all. Tell them what happened.”
“Unfortunately, Sora is no longer with us,” Artemis says, as if she’s RSVPing to a children’s birthday.
“Sora is dead,” Constantine yells. “And this is bullshit. I’m calling my sister and seeing if she can get me the hell out of here.”
“Even the Queen of the werewolves cannot stop this competition,” Artemis says. “And I advise any of you who still believe this is child’s play to revise your opinions.
“Hold on,” Sophia says, ignoring Artemis. “Let’s go back to the part about Sora being dead. How did he die?”
“How exactly?” Zahara adds turning to me.
“I don’t know. I just found him in the corn,” I tell her. “He didn’t even look hurt. I tripped over him. I…I accidentally kicked him.” I start to tear up again and Trevor comes over to me.
“Oh, love. Don’t worry. It will be okay.” I shake him off.
“And you’re a liar and a…a dick!” I tell him, wiping away some of my tears. I look up to find Rada staring at me, unfazed by what’s going on.
“It was always likely that some of us would die,” she tells me. “You should have expected this.”
I don’t know who to go to for comfort. Trevor is a liar. Rada is stone cold. I feel alone.
Then Alaric’s hand is on my shoulder. He gives me a squeeze, like maybe he agrees that all of this is completely insane. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand stays in place.
“Trevor has won, Sora has lost. The particulars are not for you to sort out,” Leto says in her small voice.
“Athena will let all of your mentors know what has happened. If they feel you are emotionally fragile and need coddling, they will be in touch,” Artemis tells us.
Wow. Way to gaslight, Artemis.
I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be around any of the competitors either. As far as I’m concerned, Constantine is the only one who’s reacting like this is a big deal. But the thing that really makes me want to keep my distance is that I’m convinced one of them killed Sora. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
And that sucks. Cause now it’s not just the Hunger Games, it’s the Hunger Games murder mystery. And honestly, that feels like a little too much.
I go to the stables to sit with Whiskey. His warmth and strong breathing are comforting as I rest against him.
I expect Edie to show up, but she doesn’t. Maybe she thinks I don’t need the extra support, or that her warning me before the contest about people dying was good enough.
I don’t want to go to the power transfer ceremony, but I have to. I owe it to Sora.
Later that evening in our room, I refuse to speak to Rada as I settle on what to wear. I decide to treat the ceremony like a funeral, choosing a tasteful black dress with a long train.
Word of Sora’s death has spread, making the ceremony even more of a “must see” event than it was last time. It seems like everyone is there. Gods that I’ve never seen before line the stage, eager to help with the transfer of power. The audience is full of Amazons, some of them forced to stand in the back. Constantine was nice enough to save a seat for me, so I slip in beside him.
“Any luck getting out of the contest?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Trevor is on the stage, waiting near the chair that Rada sat in last time to receive Prisha’s thunder. With him is a sharp-faced man with cheek bones to die for and shimmery golden skin.
“Who’s Trevor’s mentor?” I ask Constantine.
“A gorgeous man with shimmery golden skin.”
I elbow him. “Yeah, I know that. But who or what is he?”
“He looks like a faerie of some sort.” Constantine gives me a wan grin. “Definitely my type.”
I reach over to pat his hand, knowing he’s trying to keep things from getting too heavy. Somehow we end up holding onto one another as we wait for the ceremony to begin.
It’s comforting having him there beside me, especially as I focus on the loser’s chair. It’s empty, but a willowy girl with bluish skin stands near it, openly weeping. She must be Sora’s mentor. After a while, people start to get restless.
“What’s going on?” I ask Constantine and he shrugs.
Taylor comes in and all the gods huddle, whispering. Finally, Athena steps forward.
“I am sorry, but there has been a delay.”
“What delay?” Trevor asks. “I’m supposed to be getting extra gorgeous.”
Athena sighs, the sound carrying though the auditorium.
“Sora’s body is missing.”
19
There is chaos. The gods shouting, Amazons screaming, contestants looking worried.
Except Trevor. Trevor looks remarkably calm for someone who was just told their prize went missing. The shimmering man leans in to discuss the matter and Trevor waves him off.
Constantine actually gets up and leaves. “I’ve had enough,” he tells me. I’m tempted to follow him, but I stay, wanting to see what happens next.
I expect the black boxes to start knitting up around us for another time out. Instead Athena raises an arm to quiet us. The Amazons immediately obey. The gods follow a moment later.
“Trevor,” she says. “We have failed in our duty to you. We will find Sora, and we will bestow upon you the powers to which you are entitled.”
Trevor nods. “It’s okay, really. I mean, my personality plus amazing good looks? It’s too much for one mere mortal. I’ll wait ’til I’m crowned as a god.”
Sora’s mentor takes a step toward Trevor and it seems possible she might murder him there and then.
Thankfully, there’s an interruption as Constantine walks onto the stage. He’s holding a plant, of all things.
“I want to go home!” he says, throwing the plant on the ground and stomping on it. What the hell? What did that poor thing ever do to him? “I. Am. Done.” He punctuates each word with a leap as he flies up into the air, coming down on the plant with a heavy thud each time.
“He has actually lost his shit,” I say. In front of me Rada nods.
“Talk about slamming a doot,” Zahara agrees.
Constantine flicks the hair out of his eyes, a sheen of perspiration on his face. “I know this wasn’t a welcome plant. How welcoming has this place been, really? I’ve had arrows fly at my head. Also, nobody is even a little concerned that Sora was killed. You people don’t care about any of us, except maybe Rada. Which makes it pretty obvious that this plant was a test. And I’m betting if our plant dies, we lose.” He stomps down again, smearing green goo all over the stage. “Well, it’s pretty damn dead. Tell me—did I lose?”
Demeter steps forward out of the huddle of gods. “Yes child, you are correct. It was a test.”
Sophia looks like she’s about to shit a brick, and I remember that she tossed her plant in a dumpster on the first day. Was it still alive in there?
Demeter continues, “Though I mourn the destruction of this plant, you have achieved your goal and lost the trial.” She zooms in on Sophia. “While others have only neglected their plants, you, Constantine, have utterly destroyed yours.”
“I’m sorry,” Constantine tells the aloe plant at his feet. “But I really want this to be over.”
Demeter nods. “We will have a ceremony after all.” She motions to me. “Brandee Jean, you are the winner of my competition.”
“What?” I croak the word in a totally not pretty way. But honestly, you can’t just declare someone the winner without first announcing the second and first runners up.
“How was that determined?” Alaric asks, frowning.
“By the plants themselves,” Demeter says. “Each has been reporting back to me
about the level of care and concern that their owner has bestowed upon it. Brandee Jean has not only been giving her aloe plant excellent care, she has treated it like what it is: A living thing.”
“I guess talking to my little plant wasn’t so goofy after all,” I say to Rada.
I go up to the stage with mixed feelings. Sora is dead, his body missing, and I just won a competition no one knew was happening.
Once I set foot on that stage, though, I go into pageant mode. Shoulders back. Tits out. Smile plastered on.
I walk across the stage as if I’m about to take my crown, instead of Constantine’s virility. I nudge Trevor away from the winner’s chair, speaking out of the side of my smile—a much-treasured pageant skill. “Move it, mister,” I tell him. “Brandee Jean’s about to get a boner.”
Trevor’s own smile stays plastered on, and he also speaks through his teeth like a pro. “I’ll slip you one of those any time, my lady.”
“You too, shining fairy man. Beat it.”
Trevor’s mentor bows to me. “My lady,” he says as he cedes the stage. Now that’s a classy gentleman.
I look out across the audience. I might seem confident as hell, but I’m rattled as I take my seat. I have no idea what having Constantine’s power is going to look like, or how it could possibly benefit me in any way throughout the rest of the trials. Of all the powers to win, I might just be getting a big dick. And, let’s be clear, Brandee Jean doesn’t need any help landing one of those.
Across from me, Constantine takes his own seat, a look of pure exultation on his face. The audience settles, and Rada gives me a double thumbs up as the gods stretch their arms out, their discordant hum filling the air. Just like with Prisha’s thunder, a glow begins in Constantine’s body…except this one is located slightly lower. His face betrays a little panic as the light travels, starting at his crotch and then as it moves up to his chest, leaving him blessedly deflated.
I don’t have time to be happy for him, though; I’ve changed my mind. I definitely don’t want that light coming for me, and I don’t want to know where it’s going to land. I’ve seen some drop-dead-gorgeous drag queens, but there is a hell of a lot of tape involved.
Amazon Princess Page 15