I decide to cede my power…maybe to Alaric. I’d love to see him retain that cool and calm manner with a raging 24/7 hard on.
But I can’t get up. My body is rooted to the chair, my arms and legs totally inert as the glowing orb comes toward me, the gods transferring it slowly across the stage.
“Wait,” I try to say, but my mouth won’t move, either. The light comes for me, glowing so brightly I close my eyes. I feel it settle on me, and my panic subsides. It’s not between my legs, and I definitely don’t have any new appendages. This dress is cut to fit and if there were anything extra in here with me, I’d know it by now.
“You can open your eyes,” a soft voice says in my ear.
I do, and see Constantine on the other end of the stage, happily rising to show his flat front end to a crowd of Amazons, who—for once—are rabidly cheering him. I turn to find Demeter standing next to me, her smile beaming down on my upturned face.
“Congratulations,” she tells me. “Your virility is ensured. No birth control will ever be a match for your fecundity.”
Wait. “What?!” I shriek, coming to my feet.
Rada is by my side in a moment. “She thanks you, kind mother,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me off the stage as Demeter frowns at my reaction.
“Did I just get blessed with baby-making?” I ask Rada, my head falling onto her shoulder. “Tell me I didn’t.”
“Sorry, roomie,” she says, patting my shoulder. “But you might want to keep the flirting to a minimum for now. And maybe raise some of your necklines. Also, I know where you can find some chastity belts.”
We weave our way through the crowd, congratulatory pats landing on my back.
“BJ,” a warm hand clasps my elbow, and I turn to find Jordan—Malik’s super-hot panther-shifting mentor—beside me. “Congratulations!”
I stare at him in horror.
This is like when Mandy James found out she was lactose intolerant and had to drop out of the pageant circuit. Any time she ate dairy, her belly puffed out like...well, like she was pregnant. But the girl was a sixth generation Wisconsiner and made the choice to give up pageants before she’d stop consuming cheese.
I feel like I’m facing a similar decision.
“Edie’s gonna be so bummed she wasn’t here,” Jordan adds. “Let me give you a hug from her.”
Screaming, I run from the room, protectively shielding my ovaries as I go.
“I’m never going outside again,” I declare.
I’m curled up with my arms around my midsection, lying on the floor of our dorm room.
“BJ, you have to go outside,” Rada reminds me. “We’ve got another trial in two days.”
I reach up, grab a random pillow off my bed, and throw it at her. “I don’t care,” I say, as she easily swats it out of the air. “I’ll get pregnant if I go out there.”
“Okay,” Rada settles onto the floor beside me. “You do know how babies are made, right?”
“Yes,” I say, sticking my tongue out at her. “But I also know that I like boys…a lot.”
Rada makes a face. “I really don’t know why.”
I sit up, curious. “You don’t?”
She shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I can look at them and think they are attractive, but I’ve never felt like kissing one.”
I nod, understanding. This is exactly how I feel about girls. And I’ve spent my entire life around really, really hot girls.
“Do you think about kissing girls?” I ask Rada.
“Sometimes,” she says. “But mostly I’m focused on being the best Amazon I can be.”
“Yeah, I noticed that about you,” I say, protectively covering my ovaries again. “Would it bother you if someone else got the crown?”
Rada thinks about it for a second, clearly wanting to give me an honest answer. “I want to win. But if I can’t, I want it to be a woman. Men have been in charge for way too long.”
“Preach,” I say. “So…which of the girls left do you want to see win?”
“Other than me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. A low roll of thunder sweeps across our room.
“Nice,” I say. Rada had bent the thunder to her control pretty quickly, something that makes me think maybe she is fated for the crown, after all.
Rada puts a hand on my shoulder. “If it can’t be me, then I’d like to see Zahara win.”
“Oh,” my good mood quickly sours. “I mean, cool. Yeah. Ugly queens are the best queens.”
“Don’t be hurt, BJ,” Rada says. “Zahara exhibits many of the qualities of an Amazon woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were able to pass the entrance exams for Amazon Academy.”
“What’s that like?” I ask. “Kick a guy in the balls and the gate opens?”
“No.” Another roll of thunder reverberates, the floor shaking underneath me. “The spirit of Hippolyta, the original Queen of the Amazons, judges whether or not you can enter by looking into your soul and weighing whether or not you deserve entry.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“Not much,” Rada says. “You are turned away. But many choose to fall on their swords rather than face a life as anything other than an Amazon.”
“Fall on their swords?”
“They kill themselves.”
“Oh…” I think back to Lilliana, and many of the other Amazons. They share an intense pride in being part of that sisterhood. One they’ve made very clear that I am not a part of.
“So, this Hippolyta lady looks in your soul, and then what?”
“If you are cleared to pass through the gates, you have been accepted as an Amazon, and your training begins.” Rada says. “She wanders through the Academy at times. Hippolyta is not a goddess, so she cannot take a physical form. But you can feel her, hovering over her daughters.”
Rada looks wistfully around our room, as if hoping Hippolyta might drop in any second.
I suppress a shudder. “I definitely don’t want any spirit woman weighing my soul. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve done enough weigh-ins on the circuit.”
Rada laughs, her mood broken. “It’s not like that at all. Having Hippolyta accept you is a huge rush. There’s even a lingering of her power. For a few hours afterward I had heightened vision, better reflexes, and my aim…” She sighs, as if recalling her first kiss. “I could not miss.”
“I’ve never seen you miss now,” I tell her.
“Yes, but that’s after years of training. Now it’s a skill. On that day, it was a gift.”
“Like my gift of baby-making,” I say, coming back to my own problems.
“You’ll be fine,” Rada says. “Just don’t have sex!”
“Ugh…” I say, burying my face in my knees. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Well, at least Sora is gone,” Rada says. We both laugh, then catch ourselves, remembering why he’s gone.
In the silence that follows, there’s a knock on the door.
“Hey ladies,” Zahara says, sticking her head in. “The rest of us are having a campfire. We thought it might be nice to—”
“Remember Sora. Of course,” I say, gathering my shoes.
“Actually we were going to talk strategy,” Zahara says. “But no reason we can’t do both.”
I stare at Zahara, unable to understand how she can be so cold. “Aren’t you at all sad about Sora? Didn’t you and he…” I trail off, uncertain now. Maybe she did just ride his sea-horse.
“Oh yeah, we absolutely had intercourse,” Zahara says without hesitation. “But it’s not like we pledged our eternal love or anything. I have needs and sex is one of them. I don’t really understand why it has to be this taboo thing. Sex is no different than slamming a doot. Sometimes you gotta go, and sometimes you gotta get some.”
“Wow.” Rada stares at Zahara, fascinated. “Did you just go up to him and say, ‘Bone me?’ Athena advises us to be as direct as possible when dealing with the opposite sex.”
Zahara snorts and I can’t
hold back a giggle.
“Men are fairly simplistic,” Zahara says. “I’m not saying that strategy wouldn’t work, however, I’d suggest something a bit more alluring.”
“Yeah,” I add, “like lingerie.”
“It’s true that men are visual,” Zahara agrees. “But studies have consistently shown that the brain is our largest sex organ. Which is exactly what I told Sora.” Zahara smiles wickedly and her eyes sparkle. In that moment I can see why Sora would’ve looked past the scarier parts of her appearance. “Then I added that I’d been using my super-powered brain to think up new sexual positions and I could really use some assistance trying them out.”
“And he volunteered?” Rada guesses.
Zahara shrugs. “He did. Actually he was very sweet about it…” Her smile fades and I can see her actually remembering Sora and now fully processing the fact that he’s dead. “When we were done, he said, ‘Science experiments are so cool!’”
There’s silence after this, as we all remember the beautiful, but not super bright boy.
“To Sora,” I say, raising an invisible glass.
Rada follows suit. “To Sora.”
“To Sora,” Zahara stands, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “He was a good lay and now may he lie in peace.”
20
Rada, Zahara, and I crest the hill to see the flames from the campfire below. Alaric, Trevor, Malik, and Sophia are already sitting around it.
I notice right away that Sophia is next to Alaric, and a sudden flare erupts in my stomach. It almost feels like jealousy, but that’s not possible. Sophia can have his ice-cold ass. Besides, I’ve got to keep my distance from anything with a penis until I know for sure that I can trust myself—and my ovaries—to stay under control. With that in mind, I ignore Trevor when he pats the ground next to him invitingly, choosing instead to sit in between Zahara and Rada.
“So,” Rada says. “Zahara claims we need to talk strategy—as a group. I would like to say right up front that I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s only one crown, remember?”
“There is only one crown,” Alaric agrees. “And only one winner in the end. But there’s no harm in looking out for one another until then.”
“I wish I could say the same, brother,” Trevor says. “Unfortunately, I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you. And given your size—have you put on weight by the way?—that wouldn’t be far.”
“Hey,” I object, “Don’t fat shame Alaric. Especially since he doesn’t have any fat. My hands were all over his chest earlier today in the maze, and he is rock solid.”
“Oh really?” Trevor’s eyebrows go up. “A little playtime in the maze, brother? And I thought you didn’t believe in mixing business with pleasure. Or indeed, in adding pleasure to anything at all.”
I wait for Alaric to tell Trevor that my touching him was totally icky and gross. Except he’d say it in his snooty Alaric way. But instead he just says, “Brandee Jean and I quite literally bumped into one another in the maze. It was a nice break from the monotony of the maze to exchange a few words with her before we both went our own ways.”
“Oh man, what a lost opportunity.” Malik shakes his head. “If Brandee Jean and I met in the maze, we would definitely have exchanged more than words.” He sends a wink my way. I give him my middle finger in return. Malik just laughs.
“Sora died,” Zahara reminds us, stopping Malik’s laughter. “Did your mentors warn you that could happen?”
“Yes” I nod. “Edie told me things would get rough. But it felt like our first few trials were so simple…”
“That was on purpose,” Malik says, his eyes sliding into cat form, and glowing in the firelight. “They wanted us to get comfortable, to feel safe before they attacked.”
“They?” I ask. “Exactly who do you think killed Sora?”
“The gods,” he says. “Humans are just their playthings. Until one of us has the ultimate power, we’re just pawns to them. Sora’s death is their way of reminding us who really has the power.”
“You don’t think it was one of us?” Sophia asks, her vampire skin alabaster white in the fire’s glow.
“Who else?” I respond. “We were the only ones in the maze besides the minotaur. And he was being really careful with us.”
“But there’s no motivation for one of us to kill him,” Zahara argues, her methodical mind at work. “The maze did not require a death in order for one of us to be stripped of our power, and for it to be awarded to someone else. No one had to die; they just had to lose.”
“What about the zombie in the horse paddock?” Trevor asks, and I shiver as I remember the horrible noise I’d heard the night I’d captured Whiskey. “Could a zombie have attacked Sora?”
“But I thought a zombie couldn’t attack unless it had orders from Hades,” Rada says.
“Who says?” Trevor asks. “You heard Hades; he’s lost control of his army of the dead.”
“His body did disappear,” Alaric says, thinking aloud. “It’s certainly possible that he was bitten in the maze, and reanimated before his power could be transferred to one of us.”
“Does that mean there’s a really hot zombie out there, wandering around?” I ask, suddenly doubly concerned. Not only do I have to be scared of a zombie, now I have to worry about it being a super hot undead version of Sora that may or may not get me pregnant, depending on my mood when our paths cross.
“I didn’t see any bite marks on Sora,” Sophia says. “And believe me, I can spot a bite mark a mile away.”
“Guys, it doesn’t matter how Sora died,” Zahara interrupts. “What matters is that one of us is going to be the next king or queen of the gods. They will have the ultimate power, and it must go to the right person.”
“You sound almost like you don’t care if you win,” Malik says.
“I don’t,” Zahara shrugs. “As long as whoever does deserves it.”
“So basically…not a murderer,” Alaric says.
“Yes,” Rada agrees. “I will not have it said that a competition taking place at Amazon Academy was unfairly won.”
Trevor holds out both his hands. “But is murder against the rules?” Sophia smacks him, but he keeps going. “Seriously? I’m asking. Did anyone explicitly say that we weren’t allowed to kill each other?”
“I definitely don’t want to form an alliance with you,” Rada tells him.
“Understandable,” Zahara says. “However, if you did ally with Trevor and then were the next to die, the rest of us would know that your back wasn’t being properly watched, and would have good reason to suspect Trevor.”
“Does everything come down to logic with you?” Rada asks, her feelings apparently hurt.
Zahara considers this for a second. “I would be emotionally moved if you were to die, however, I would find comfort in knowing who I couldn’t place my trust in.”
“So, yes?” Rada says, in a sulk. Zahara reaches across me, her palm upward in Rada’s lap.
“If it makes you feel better, I choose to align myself with you,” she says. Rada takes her hand, her eyes shining in the firelight. It would all be very moving if they weren’t the two people I like best…and they both just passed over being my partner.
“Malik,” Sophia pronounces, suddenly coming to her feet and crossing the distance between them. She settles onto the ground beside him, and he slips an arm around her. Together, they look like two sleek animals, and I feel a flutter of unease in my stomach. There’s more cunning between the two of them than in the rest of us put together. If there ever was a power couple, this is it.
And speaking of couples, it occurs to me there are three people left to pair off—me, Alaric, and Trevor. My mouth hangs open, unsure what to do. I don’t know if I can entirely trust Trevor, but Alaric is so stuffy. Plus, it’s also possible he’d turn me down flat.
It’s all well and good for Zahara to say that she wants the right person to win the crown, but if others are willing to cheat to win,
anyone playing by the rules won’t stand a chance.
I’m debating my choice when Trevor makes it for me.
“I always was a fan of threesomes,” he says, coming over to Malik and Sophia. He wraps his arms around both of them.
“There’s strength in numbers,” Malik agrees, and Sophia nods.
“Well,” Alaric’s eyes meet mine over the fire. “I guess that leaves you and me.”
I’ve never come in last. Never. Brandee Jean Mason might be first-runner-up, and—on one memorable occasion—the bronze medalist in the Bronzer Competition, but I have never been last. Even in gym class, my well-toned legs often earned me first pick at kickball. But here at Amazon Academy, no one wants to trust me with their lives.
No one except the boy who got stuck with me.
Tears blur the firelight as I get to my feet and run into the darkness.
Once I’m away from the group, I get myself under control.
Mama always called me Brandee Jean the drama queen when I cried. She’d say, “Unless someone died, I don’t wanna see you with bloodshot cry eyes.”
I guess with Sora dead, allowing myself a good cry right now might actually have been okay with her. But probably not, because the truth is that I really just want to cry for myself.
Closing my eyes, I mentally summon Mama. What would she say if she were here right now?
“Buck up, BJ. You’re tied for first right now. Do you understand that? So what that you don’t like your new power. Keep your ankles crossed the way I taught you and deal with it. And stop expecting the other contestants to be your friends. Your soft heartedness is holding you back and that’s the good hard truth. You aren’t gonna make it in the pageant world or any other one if you don’t toughen up.”
Okay, so maybe it’s not so hard to imagine what Mama would say. She lectured me enough.
“Hey,” a soft voice says, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Alaric, his dark form silhouetted against the moonlight. “Am I to assume from the way you ran off that none of the remaining options for alliances were to your liking?”
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