Daizlei Academy Omnibus Collection

by Kel Carpenter

  I had to stop shutting people out. My symptoms may have been getting better, but I still needed someone to be there for me like I was for them. I needed them, but not like before. Then they were all I had, and I wouldn’t go back to that. I had friends now. I had Lucas.

  If our relationship was going to work, they had to stop questioning me. I was sick of hearing that I needed help. All that did was piss me off, and then they thought I was getting even worse, when really my temper was just shortening. It was an endless circle, and the only way to stop it was for us to compromise. This didn’t fix everything, and I still had a chip on my shoulder with Lily, but it was getting better.

  After that, Alexandra and I started studying again. For me to help her, I had to start going to school every day again. At first it was difficult—I didn’t feel like going, and I preferred being in the gym—but after I made myself go, it got easier.

  I couldn’t give up the pills, and my only saving grace was that I was pretty sure only Amber knew. It wasn’t until the day of my match when Lucas said something that I knew that wasn’t the case.

  We were sitting in the boxing gym while they moved the ring into the real gym. Outside, the walls lined with bleachers were filled with a few hundred or so students and faculty.

  I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stretching with Lucas. Over the last few weeks, we’d developed a close friendship, and talked a lot. He wasn’t like other guys. There was something different about him, something that kept me coming back for more.

  “Don’t hook yourself up on painkillers before the match,” he said in a hushed tone.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of eye. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid.” He glared.

  I turned away so that he couldn’t see my face. “Fine. Why?”

  “It’ll numb your senses. You don’t know what ability the guy you’re fighting will have, and you need to be prepared.” He was more hostile than usual; far too blunt.

  I got up and crossed the room. There was a chest filled with ice and water bottles; but I wasn’t getting water. Sitting on my knees, I took a deep breath and plunged my hands into the cold water. By the time my match came, they would be numb, and any pain would be delayed.

  “All right, I won’t take anything before a match,” I agreed, a little ashamed that he knew.

  “You should stop taking it, period.” I expected him to go on, to tell me why, to threaten to tell people, and even go as far as to say I needed help. But he didn’t.

  “I tried; I really did. It’s not that easy,” I snapped. My excuses were weak, even to me. My hands clenched in the ice water.

  “Tell me something.” He took a seat next to me, and I couldn’t help looking at him as he spoke. “If your sisters were doing what you’re doing right now, would you sit by and watch them kill themselves? Because that’s what I have to do.” He looked angry and sad at the same time.

  I looked away, unsure of what to say, what to do.

  “It’s not going to be easy. Nothing’s easy. Nothing that’s worth it.”

  His words echoed my father’s from years past.

  I released the pressure of my fists and sighed. He was right. I had to quit, for good. I couldn’t just try, I had to. Not just for myself—for Alexandra, Lily, Lucas, Tori . . . my parents.

  “Okay,” I agreed. I would probably have my slips in the beginning, but I had to try. I had to do it.

  The silence stretched between us while I let my hands freeze. They were starting to ache, but until fifteen minutes before my match, I didn’t even dare to look at them. They were blue and purple and even starting to wrinkle a little. I was scared they would warm up to quickly if I took them out now. I waited another five minutes.

  Just as my coach walked in, I was pulling my hands out. I quickly wiped them on my shirt and met him next to my partner.

  “I just met with the other coach, and we ran into a little problem. They only have two level five boxers, and we have three. One of you can’t compete today.” He looked back and forth between Lucas, me, and Aaron, who was lounging against the wall.

  “Which one of us isn’t competing?” I demanded.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” He sighed.

  “But the tournament begins in ten minutes.” I raised my voice.

  “Aaron and Lucas have been here longer, but putting you in the ring will definitely throw them off . . . so who to choose?” he muttered to himself.

  I glanced at Aaron, and he didn’t seem concerned. That irritated me even more. There was no way he was walking out there instead of me. Even if that meant I had to make sure he couldn’t walk.

  “Coach, you’ve watched me fight. You know I’m better than Aaron,” I insisted under my breath.

  “The hell she is. Besides, you even said it. I’ve been here longer.”

  Now he wants to pay attention.

  “I’m the best,” I retorted. “I’m faster, more experienced, and I don’t get distracted. You may look more dangerous, but we all know when push comes to shove, I can pack a punch better than most. I am better than you, I was when I walked into this gym the first time, and I deserve to fight.”

  I didn’t argue over many things. I thought of myself as above that. When it came to standing up for myself, I had no problem saying something. I deserved this, whether I’d started out wanting it or not.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think. I was here first,” he responded coldly.

  “You’re only saying that because that’s literally the only way you have a chance. Just face it. If we fought, I would win.” I turned to glare at him. He glared back. His black eyes homed in on me, but I wasn’t the prey here. I was the hunter.

  “Then fight me for it.” He took a step toward me.

  “When and where?” I stepped up to meet his challenge, staring straight into his bottomless eyes.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Avery barked. “The match starts in less than five minutes, and Aldric Fortescue is here.” Aaron backed away; his jaw strained as he turned to our coach.

  We went silent.

  “I think you all would do great,” he said slowly, “but when it comes to odds and skill alone . . . Selena and Lucas are above you, Aaron.”

  All I heard next was a long stream of curse words that was quickly drowned out by a whistle.

  “I’ve made my decision. You don’t have to like it, but, as a boxer, you have to respect it,” Coach Avery scolded.

  Aaron’s eyes bored into mine. First, I’d ratted him out with his girlfriend, then I’d rejected him, and now he couldn’t even compete because of me. Yet . . . his gaze wasn’t hostile. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but the intensity was scalding. I looked away.

  “All boxers report to the ring. I repeat, all boxers report to the ring.” An overhead speaker boomed through the gym.

  Show time.

  Chapter 26

  When I entered the gym, I was met by the dull roar of the crowd, which had increased since I saw it last. Now there were probably just under a thousand people, a third of which were faculty. Coach Avery called me up to the judges’ table. I walked forward, blanking myself of all my emotions in an attempt to appear even more confident. Part of me felt bad about what I was going to do today, the rest of me smiled on. I didn’t know which part to be ashamed of—the sociopath . . . or the compassion?

  “Coach?” I asked hesitantly.

  Three judges presided over the match. The first was a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties with brown hair and closed eyes. From what I knew, he was here simply to make sure no other Supernaturals powers were interfering with the match. The second was Professor Vonlowsky, who was currently smirking at me, as usual. The final judge was an older man with a very composed appearance and delighted smile. His hair was white, and the wrinkles clearly showed, but he was strong.

  I could feel him and the others watching—for what, I had no idea.

  He stood and o
ffered me his hand. “I’m Aldric Fortescue, Member of Court. Dimitri here has told me so much about you, Ms. Foster,” he said with perfect formality.

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” I responded, shaking his hand.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your match any longer. Good luck.”

  Coach Avery steered me away from the judges and toward the ring.

  “What did he mean by Member of Court?” I asked.

  “Now’s not the time. Ask me another day,” he said, staring into the ring.

  “When’s my match?” There was already another boxer in the ring. He was at least six-feet-tall and bulky, with a mean scowl and ugly face.

  “Now,” he said, holding the ropes for me.

  I was startled, but climbed in, nonetheless.

  “Remember, Foster, he’s stronger than you. Speed and endurance are the key,” he whispered in my ear then pushed me to the center of the ring.

  Overhead, a loudspeaker came on, introducing us, but I blocked it out. The crowd gasped when they learned I was boxing.

  Out of nowhere, Lucas’s voice came from the crowd. “End this quickly, Selena.”

  I nodded once and took my place.

  “What’s a little girl like you doing here?” The hulk-like boxer teased, clearly amused that I was his opponent.

  I brushed off his comment and waited for some kind of indication that the match had begun. When a bell rang, we began circling. Lucas’s words repeated in my head, and I knew what I had to do. I already relished the clarity that was soon to come.

  “Do you really think you’re going to fight me?” He outright laughed at me.

  A spark of anger ignited in me, and I swung, aiming for his mouth. He was too busy laughing to see it coming. My fist connected with his teeth. There was a slight pain in my hand, but it was too numb to register—just as I’d hoped. Blood splattered the floor, and he spat out teeth. Almost all his front teeth were missing, and the impact had cracked his jaw. I guess he shouldn’t have insulted me.

  I didn’t even wince at the gruesome sight; instead, I smiled knowingly. The crowd went quiet, and I was feeling almost sadistic about what I was going to do to him. The killing gene, as I called it, was active.

  He tried to say something, to threaten me, but all that came out was red. It was less than thirty seconds in, and I’d already covered the ring in blood.

  He came at me, stumbling in his rage. I sidestepped just before he reached me and turned to him. His distorted face looked like something out of a horror movie. I flashed him a smile, and he roared. He swung at my face, but I caught his fist mid-swing. I closed my fingers around his fist, digging into the skin. This was the biggest fix I’d get for a while, so I needed make it hurt.

  I bent it backward and snapped it with a flick of my wrist. Pain filled his already broken face, and I twisted his arm. He hunched over, and I drove my elbow into his sternum. Several sharp snaps filled the ring as I destroyed his ribcage. Using all my weight and strength, I drove him backward and sent us both falling through the air. He landed flat on his back, with me on top of him. One foot landed flat on the ground with my knee on his stomach, and my elbow still lodged in his chest. His head banged against the floor, and he started to black out from blood loss.

  I looked down at him, both sickened by what I’d done and relieved that the darkness was gone. For now. I wanted to say something to him. To explain myself.

  The words never came.

  I looked around the ring for a moment, examining the blood, teeth, and unconscious body left in my wake. Out in the crowd, students, teachers, even the judges were gaping. The timer read 1:16.

  I lifted a bloodstained hand and pushed a stray hair back. The medical staff on hand rushed into the ring, hauled him onto a gurney, and carried him away. When I stepped out of the ring, I was instantly surrounded. Most faces I didn’t recognize, and I started to feel flustered. My heart pounded as frustration rose in me. My eyes glazed over, but I wasn’t in danger right now. My gory victory had assured that. The killing gene was sated.

  “Get back to the stands. Now.” Coach Avery’s voice boomed over the others.

  I walked over to an empty chair and took a seat while I let my mind return to normal. The urge to pop some pills was overwhelming, though the conversation with Lucas was still fresh in my mind. In the end, I decided against it.

  “You never cease to surprise me.” Lucas appeared from behind me.

  “It’s when I don’t surprise you anymore, that means you’ve known me for too long.” I examined my knuckles. The ice had been a good call. I would be bruised tomorrow.

  “So, you’ve been holding out on me,” he accused. He didn’t sound upset, but I knew he would take note of what had happened here. I was a living weapon, honed to be lethal. I thanked my lucky stars I’d been able to stop myself this time.

  “Don’t you have a match to get to?”

  “Well, actually, I don’t because I believe someone decided to turn the ring into a bloodbath. Which brings me back to my original statement—you’ve been holding out on me.”

  I shrugged.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Again, I shrugged.

  It was quiet for a moment or two. Then, “Can I ask you something?”

  “You just did,” I retorted, recalling the day I’d said the same thing to Aaron. This time, however, it was followed by silence. He wasn’t chasing me, and I was again reminded of just how different he was.

  “You can ask me anything, Lucas. You know that. Whether I’ll answer it or not is a completely different question.” I sighed.

  “Will you answer it? Truthfully?”

  For a moment, I considered just telling him yes, allowing him one question, any question, and giving him the answer. Truthfully. But I couldn’t . . .

  “That depends. What’s the question?” I asked.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?” I frowned at him.

  “Everything. It just doesn’t make sense. You’re abnormally strong, even for a Supernatural. I’ve never seen anyone run like you can, not unless their speed is their ability. When you fight, you know exactly what’s going to happen. Somehow, you can keep me out of your head, but I know you’re not a shield. How?”

  My mouth dropped open slightly. He’d completely caught me off guard. “Lucas, you really don’t want to get into this—”

  “Stop avoiding the question, Selena. Do you trust me or not?”

  It wasn’t a matter of trust. It was a matter of safety. If people knew what I could do, just how powerful I was . . . I didn’t know how they would respond. I was dangerous—that was what I feared most. If he knew, would he even accept me? Doubtful.

  I couldn’t lie to him either. Lucas was my closest friend. I could be myself with him—or, at least, almost myself, apart from the secrets. I had to tell him the truth, just not the whole truth.

  “I do,” I finally said when I got my head together.

  “Then how is it possible that you can do all these things?”

  “My ability,” I said, not entirely lying.

  “What?”

  “I can do all these things because of my ability.” I laughed lightly, trying desperately to lead him off this path.

  “Why didn’t you just say that?” He laughed too.

  “I don’t know. I think I’m paranoid.” I smiled.

  We talked for a few more minutes before he left for his match. I wished him luck and watched as he destroyed his opponent, minus the teeth and broken bones. It didn’t get by me that he’d been holding out on me too. His opponent was unconscious with a busted lip, black eye, and probably broken jaw. We were both effective, but he had the blessing of not being forced into brutality. I sighed and let it go. I knew the consequences that came with my survival.

  Soon afterward, Alexandra caught up with me; Lily had to go somewhere. We went to lunch and talked about my match, school, even boys . . . and our birthday—which I’d managed to completely f
orget about, somehow, even though it was tomorrow.

  Chapter 27

  I groaned. “Are you almost done?”

  “Almost,” Alexandra chortled.

  Birthdays. They’re supposed to be fun, right? All the friends, presents, and food—if you’re Lily. Wrong. I hated birthdays. Well, I hated my birthday. Not because I was turning another year older, but because eleven years ago I was forever changed. Nothing had been the same since that day. I want to say that before my fifth birthday I was happy. Normal. But I can’t remember that far back, and the struggle is all I’ve ever known.

  With our parents gone, I actually had to participate on our birthdays, for the sake of my sisters. That was why every year I allowed Alexandra and Lily to dress me up like a Barbie doll and take me to a party or something.

  “Blink,” she ordered, holding the mascara wand under my eyelashes.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and did as I was told.

  Heels clicked against the tile floor as Lily entered the bathroom. “Oh my gosh!” she gasped.

  “What?” I said, instantly tensing up but fully aware that Alexandra was holding a stick of mascara less than an inch from my eye.

  “She looks hot,” Lily said in awe.

  Alexandra and I both started laughing.

  “Well, I guess my job’s done. Open your eyes,” she commanded, spinning my chair around.

  Well, damn. There was no denying it. I was hot. Alexandra had shoved me into a bright, blood-red dress. It only had one long sleeve down to my wrist, and it was tight. It was so short it made it past my butt by about two inches, at most. I wore Alexandra’s shiny black stilettos and a pair of simple silver hoops. My eyes looked like liquid silver with all the black eye makeup, and my lipstick matched the red of my dress.

  I stood up and admired myself for a moment before turning to Alexandra. “I look good,” I said, offering a half-hearted compliment. This was still her thing, not mine.