Why did he have to go and ask that? Subconsciously, I rubbed at my wrist.
Bren looked at me. Studied the way I held my wrist. I dropped it. “You game?”
It had been too long. Too long since I’d practiced in the cage. I hadn’t been inside for over two months. How I had kept my tier five rank intact with so little practice was beyond me. Surprisingly, Drake turned a blind eye to it, more interested in my archery prowess than actual beast take-down abilities.
I almost told Bren to go right ahead while I observed from the tower, like normal trainers did. But for some stupid reason . . . I didn’t. I glanced at Ryker instead, replying, “I’m sure Tattoo Boy doesn’t want us interfering with his practice time.” The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. Guess he didn’t like that nickname.
His reply shocked the crap out of me. “Go ahead. I could use the competition. Just stay out of my way.”
He faced the cage once again, dismissing us. With a tap, he turned on his earbud and muttered into it. I could see his trainer nod from his place on top of the watchtower, then hold up three fingers toward the control booth operator. Whether he was relaying how many trainees would be inside the cage or how many cyberbeasts, I didn’t know.
I didn’t have time to ask, either.
The cage door emitted a high-pitched shriek, then slid open on well-oiled rollers. There was no backing out now. My heart rate spiked. On autopilot, I took a step forward, only to be halted by a grip on my elbow. I glanced sharply at Bren. “What? Having second thoughts?”
He must have detected the thin note of hopefulness in my voice because his eyes softened. Then he lifted a hand and captured a wayward strand of hair, gently tucking it behind my ear. My scalp tingled in the wake of his touch. “You all right?”
“Yeah, fine,” I said quickly, pulling away. He didn’t say anything else and I didn’t look at him again.
As the gate sealed us inside, Ryker took off on silent feet and disappeared from view. I led Bren away from the fence toward the strange urban jungle within. My voice was hushed, barely a whisper. “The fastest way to shut down a cyberbeast is to shoot it in the eye or heart. Whatever you do, don’t hesitate. It’s programmed to render you unconscious with its electric volt teeth. So, retreat or hide if need be, but don’t stand there and let it take you.”
“Don’t befriend the beasts. Got it,” Bren whispered.
The first thing I did was hunt for higher ground. A vantage point. I liked to spot my quarry before it spotted me. An oak tree with low-hanging branches presented itself and I made a beeline for it. I slung my bow across my shoulders and took a running leap at the tree. Boot firmly planted on its trunk, I pushed off and grabbed a sturdy limb, then scrambled up several feet. I peered down at Bren from my perch.
He was looking at me, hands on hips, a spark of impish delight in his eyes. I frowned. What was he doing? Then almost faster than I could blink, he was on the branch next to me. I gaped at him. He winked. What did he—? How did he—?
This is not the time! I silently prepared my bow.
Hunkering down, I waited for the cyberbeasts to find me. They always did, like they could detect my scent. How many had Ryker requested? This was the hardest part—the waiting, the suspense. For machines, they were eerily silent, and not knowing where they were had me on edge. The fact that they were just metal and wires encased in synthetic fur made no difference to me. They were programmed to hunt and attack. So, to me, they were monsters.
Monsters that stalked my dreams. Living nightmares.
Goosebumps pricked my flesh.
All my attention diverted to Ryker as he popped back into view. He quietly picked his way through a heap of rubble and sidled up next to a rusted, broken-down car. Surprisingly, all its windows were intact. He gripped the driver’s door and pulled. It didn’t budge. Pausing to form a stronger grip, he wrenched his hand backward, and the door screeched open.
My heart stopped. The air was eerily silent. Not even the birds chirped. The birds. Warning bells rang in my head.
They were coming.
A faint crunch, like the sound of a dry pinecone being stepped on, came from behind us. My pulse was a drum in my skull as I forced shaky fingers to slowly nock an arrow. I checked Bren’s readiness and found an empty branch instead. The sight robbed me of air. I was alone, up a tree, with a predator on my scent. I frantically searched the forest floor for the stalking machine. Nothing.
Where is it?
Pounding, shuffling noises alerted me to the cyberbeast. A black streak raced for my tree hideout and zipped right on by. I couldn’t move, could only gape as it went for Ryker instead. He was still beside the car, leaning against the rusted exterior, casually fiddling with an arrow.
He looked . . . bored.
Just as the large panther-like machine opened a maw laced with electricity, Ryker leapt to the side and grabbed the animal’s scruff. Using its forward momentum, he shoved the beast inside the car’s opening and slammed the door shut. Another dark cyberbeast jumped over the car’s roof and crashed into him. They toppled to the ground. In a flash, Ryker planted his boots on the beast’s underbelly and flipped the machine over his head. He lunged on top of it and, while the wolfish cyberbeast thrashed side-to-side, maw seeking flesh, he gripped its synthetic ears.
What the man with the tattoo did next was complete madness.
He bit down on an ear and, with a jerk of his head, tore the thing clean off. Dark oil splattered his face. Still holding onto the intact ear, he used his other hand to thrust an arrowhead into the beast’s eye socket.
Faint clicking signaled that it was powering down.
He then climbed to his feet and strolled to the car. Strolled! I could hear a thump, thump, thump as the trapped cyberbeast bashed its body against the windows, attempting to free itself. A window cracked. The door burst open and the beast sprang.
Ryker dove out of the way but, before he could nock an arrow, Bren was there. My breath hitched. He would probably get electrified. Most trainees did their first time in the cage. As the black beast charged toward him, he loosed an arrow, then jumped clear. The cyberbeast crashed to the ground in a pile of twitching fur and metal, an arrow embedded in its eye.
My jaw dropped.
“Lune, watch out!”
But the warning came too late.
A force rammed into me from behind and I fell from the tree. Pain jolted up my legs as I hit the ground hard. I dropped into a roll to lessen the impact just as a large shape soared over my body. I didn’t look to see what it was. I ran. I ran like I always did. Because I couldn’t help it. My fear was a living, breathing thing, and that thing was now pursuing me.
Oh stars.
Trapped. Always trapped.
A tree root snagged my ankle. This time the fall snatched the air from my lungs. I flipped onto my back and was fumbling for an arrow when the machine materialized. No. Not that one. The pale metal saber cat, teeth just as long as the real animal’s, prowled toward me. With a grunt, I shot an arrow. It thunked into the cat’s tawny chest. The machine kept coming. No, no, please! Not again! I lashed a boot out and made contact. As the head twisted sideways, I scrambled to my feet and prepared to run.
It pounced. My spine and skull slapped against a tree trunk as the cat’s paws pinned me in place. I struggled and, finally giving in to blind terror, screamed. Screamed as those elongated teeth buzzing with electricity closed in on my neck. No. No.
“No!”
With the teeth only inches away from zapping my skin, I heard a sharp thud. I stared at the gaping mouth. A mouth that wasn’t moving. And then the heavy machine tilted sideways and smacked the ground. My eyes settled on its still form.
I heard rustling but didn’t dare take my eyes off the cat. I expected it to reanimate any second now—despite the arrow protruding from its synthetic heart.
“Lune.” The voice was soft, imploring. I didn’t respond. “Lune, it’s over.”
I blinked. Blinked again. No. I
t wasn’t. It was never over. “Where were you?”
A dark shape grew in my peripheral. “I was watching from the ground. I needed a better vantage point.”
I didn’t understand. All I knew was that I had been alone. Alone with my nightmare.
“Why are you so afraid of them?”
Just like that, the fog erased. Bren’s face sharpened into focus and our eyes connected. His brows were furrowed. Worried.
My lips pursed. There was no point denying it. He now knew my biggest weakness, my greatest fear. He could use it against me in the Trials. But I could use his, too. “Why are you so afraid of water?” I tossed back.
The creases in his skin deepened. He almost looked angry. Good. “I know what you’re doing. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Of course it does!” I snapped. “Maybe you’re my student, but you’re also my competition. Don’t for one second forget that. You might know my secret, but I know yours, too.” With that, I brushed past him.
“I’m sorry you were afraid,” he said, and I paused. “I can help you.”
My fingers tightened around my bow. Without turning, I replied, “No, you can’t,” and started walking again.
No one can.
Two days later, Bren didn’t show up for training.
My first thought was that he must have broken a city rule, then gone missing. I would never see or hear from him again. Renold’s latest victim and another casualty of Tatum City.
I should stop jumping to conclusions.
But he wasn’t at breakfast hour, the stables, the archery field, or lunch hour. No one else had seen him either. I carried on with my training, body on autopilot, but mentally I was screaming. Was he ill? Injured? Now that he knew my secret fear, had he sought out a more competent trainer? The thought churned my stomach. I should feel relieved to have him out of my hair, but I just felt . . . conflicted.
Why did I care? I didn’t have the answer and that troubled me most.
With the absence of Bren came a heightened awareness of my peers. My back was exposed more than ever, no giant shadow to guard it. As I helped Iris with knife throwing, Lars and Catanna openly watched me, whispering to each other. My hands shook with the strain of appearing calm when they ached to hold my twin daggers. Instead, I forced them to gently correct Iris’s throwing stance.
Time ticked by, lost in the roiling clouds. With each plink of freezing rain on my chilled skin, my mood darkened. An unbearable itch wiggled inside of me until my limbs refused to hold still. My movements became jerky, agitated. Iris glanced up at me in confusion.
I tried on a smile of reassurance but failed miserably. The warring emotions simmering in my veins were too intense. All-consuming. “I need to—” Frantically, I searched for something that could help me combat this growing tension. A mechanical dummy stood off in a corner, unused. “Keep practicing, Iris.”
Without explaining, I marched toward the dummy and switched it on. A barrel of foam-tipped halberds beckoned to me—mocked me. I yanked one out and sneered at the blunted ends. I couldn’t effectively beat on the dummy with padding. I tried anyway, jabbing its side with a solid thwack before it could finish booting up. My feet danced as it swung at me, then I envisioned Bren’s face on its blank features.
The face grinned at me.
I bared my teeth at the image and advanced. “So, you think you can just waltz in—” Whack. Dodge. “Then disappear on me?” Jab, jab, thwack. I grunted as dummy Bren rained a blow into my ribs. “You think I care?” Smack. “Because I don’t.” Whump. “I. Don’t—” I ducked at the next swing, then landed a hit to its stupid head. “Care!” With a whirl, my boot struck its midsection. Pain jolted up my leg and I welcomed it. No, needed it.
In the next moment, that spine-tingling sense of being watched sent me into blind action. I thrust my halberd behind me and struck something solid, the impact jarring my bones. No satisfactory grunt or cry of pain greeted my ears, so I whipped my head around. A hand firmly grasped the pole’s padding. My gaze traveled up a well-defined arm, strong neck and jaw, to . . .
Bren dominated my view, his eyes glittering. A forceful sigh fled my nose.
His hair was drenched and now lay flat against his forehead. He looked good wet. For some reason, that realization made me mad.
“It would appear beating me up is a fantasy of yours.” An infuriating lopsided smirk followed his statement, then, “I’m flattered.”
Impatiently, I pushed soggy hair out of my eyes and, with a jerk, broke his hold on the pole. “Where were you?” I wouldn’t be surprised if steam was leaking from my pores. I was relieved to see him, whole and unscathed, and that made me angrier.
The dumb smirk on his face fell. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
My arms flew wide. “This happened. Training. The Trials. The city. You. Did you think I wouldn’t—”
Worry. I was going to say worry. But why should I worry about him? He was my competition, stars help me!
An irrational desire to hit him pulsed through my veins. I wanted to hit him so badly I burned with the urge. Picking up another halberd, I threw it his way. He caught it with one hand and I growled.
“Fight me.” I squared off with him, readying my weapon. “Show me what you got. Show me how perfect you are.”
He gaped as if I were insane. Or a monster. I wanted to scream at him, “It’s all your fault! I had everything figured out and then you showed up. Just waltzed in here and messed with my head. Again!” But I wouldn’t. And so, I did the next best thing.
I charged him with all my pent-up fury.
Roaring a battle cry, I swung the pole at his head in hopes of removing it from his big, stupid body. He ducked. On the backswing, I aimed for his stomach. He jumped back and out of reach. “Aaahhh! Just—” I swiped at his legs and he leapt. “Hold—” The halberd swooped toward his groin and he caught it. “Still!”
I released the weapon and threw myself at him. My shoulder rammed into his gut as my arms wrapped around his legs. The move must have surprised him because the tall tree-of-a-man tipped over backward and, before I could disengage, took me down with him. He landed on his back with a heavy splat, mud spraying in all directions.
My body collided with his. Air whooshed out of me. The muddied ground would have been a softer landing. In a flash, Bren tossed his weapon aside and flipped me underneath him, pressing my back into the cold sludge. I blinked as rain spat on my face. How did he—? I didn’t care. It would not end like this.
I clocked him in the side of the head with my elbow. My hips bucked, sending him rolling off me. I pounced on him once more and tucked my forearm under his chin, applying force. I was seething—air hissed in and out of my teeth. I waited for him to make his next move. I could do this all day.
But when his hand shot up and wrapped around the back of my neck, I never saw it coming. He gave a quick pull. I lost my balance and fell on top of him. With a gasp, I struggled to rise only to have his fingers clench tighter.
Our gazes clashed. How dare he! Then I stilled. My eyes flicked back and forth over his, stunned at what was written there. The hurt and confusion was a kick to the face.
“Lune.” His voice was rough, strangled. “What did I do?”
“You—” My voice cracked. “I—” You disappeared. I was . . . I was . . .
But I didn’t let the confession take root in my mind. Instead, I stared with increasing mortification. What had I done? And in front of a field of trainees and trainers no less. A wall of shame slammed into me. My bottom lip began to quiver and I bit into it, humiliated. The quivering remained and I bit harder, focusing on the sharp pain. Gentle fingers touched my chin. A thumb slowly rubbed across my trapped lip.
Startled at the unexpected warmth, I released my lip. And wished I hadn’t a moment later when Bren’s intense gaze zeroed in on my parted mouth. My stomach muscles clenched and spasmed as he shifted beneath me, bringing our heads closer. Panic zipped through my body, spurring me
into motion. I yanked my head back and he released his hold.
My boots fought for purchase in the slick mud as I scrambled upright, slipping in my haste to retreat. All decorum vanished when he slowly stood and took a step toward me. I shook my head, hair smacking my face, but he kept coming. Pursued me.
This felt too much like bending the rules. Like testing unbreakable lines.
What are the rules that keep you safe?
Run.
My instincts willed my feet to take flight, and so I did.
Regardless of who was watching, I ran across the field, past the outer wall, and down a gravel path. I recklessly raced over uneven terrain, jumping over logs and dodging rain-drenched branches. The grass was slick, but I didn’t slow down, not until I reached the marshy bank of a pond. I stripped my boots, then plunged into the murky depths. The temperature slapped my body and a gasp ripped from my lungs.
My flushed skin cooled, but the water couldn’t touch the heat still simmering in my veins.
I completely immersed myself in the freezing element, swimming deeper. Soon it was just me, the water, and my endurance. My legs and arms filled with the familiar ache of keeping me aloft, ever churning. I reveled in the consistent strokes, breaths synchronized with the fluid movements.
Water was peace.
It was the only time I could escape the here and now, and the raging thoughts that consumed my being all too often. In the water, thinking was impossible. I basked in the watery grave of silence. Peace . . . I craved peace.
And then I clambered onto shore, having reached the other side all too soon. But I wasn’t done. Half numb with cold, I trudged up and over a decaying bridge, my toes finding purchase down the loose rock pathway. The air grew heavier with moisture and thunder rumbled in the distance. I breathed in fresh mist and earthy aromas as I finished my descent, turning toward the cascading waterfall.
Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1) Page 12
