We held on to each other while I kicked my leg out and hooked my foot through a section of rope that was still firmly attached to the platform. Devon helped swing me over so that I could grab on to the ladder with my free hand.
“I’m good!” I called out.
He nodded, the tension draining from his face, and let go of my wrist. We were closer to the top than the bottom, so we kept climbing. Poppy leaned over and helped us both up and onto the wooden platform.
Devon and I sprawled on our backs, both of us sweating and breathing hard. My heart thump-thump-thumped loud enough to drown out the crowd’s cheers, and the metallic taste of my own shock, dread, and fear filled my mouth.
“Are you guys okay?” Poppy asked, her dark eyes wide. “What happened?”
“No idea,” Devon said, sitting up. “One second the rope was fine. The next, it wasn’t. Lila, are you all right?”
I sat up as well. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks to you.”
I nudged his shoulder. Devon smiled and nudged me back.
“Just watching out for you. That’s what Sinclairs do, remember?”
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. It had been a long time since anyone had helped me the way Devon just had. He could have easily fallen off the ladder trying to grab me, or I could have dragged him down off it, but he hadn’t hesitated, and he’d saved me.
Slowly, the cheers died down, but other sounds rose to take their place—hoarse, raspy moans of pain.
Devon and I both got to our feet and peered over the side of the platform. Two guards were sprawled at the bottom of the rope ladder. I didn’t know how far up they’d been, but they’d both landed awkwardly. One of them—a Draconi—was moaning, rocking back and forth, and clutching her arm to her chest as though it was broken. The other competitor was one of ours—Henry, a Sinclair guard. His left leg was twisted underneath his body, and I could see the broken bone pressing against his skin from up here. The pain was so bad that he was crying and choking down screams.
A hush fell over the crowd, and shouts rose up as the medical staff raced over to the bottom of the ladder. Angelo was with them. He took one look at Henry’s wound, then gestured for a stretcher. A few seconds later, Henry was being rolled away toward the white medical tent. The crowd got to its feet, clapping, but the polite noise didn’t come close to drowning out Henry’s screams.
I looked down again. Henry had hit the ground so hard that his body had made an outline in the grass, like a drawing of a murder victim on a crime show. I shivered. That could have been me down there with a busted leg.
Or worse—dead.
Everyone on the top of the platform was yelling, pointing, and running back and forth, including Deah and Blake, who had their heads together, whispering to each other. Poppy was gesturing with her hands and talking to Devon, but I wasn’t paying attention to her sharp, worried words.
Instead, I kept thinking about the ropes and how they had snapped away from the platform. I’d climbed up my fair share of ropes, and they didn’t just unravel like that, especially not these thick, heavy ones. Even someone with a strength Talent would have had a hard time tearing through them. But the ropes had fallen away from the platform as easily as I could swipe my hand through a spider’s web.
So what had really happened to them?
The officials stopped the tournament, and we all climbed down the ladders attached to the side of the platform. The other competitors who hadn’t been on the course came over, along with the higher-ups in the Families, and everyone checked on their friends. Claudia, Reginald, Mo, and Felix hurried over to Devon and me, with Oscar zipping along behind them.
“You okay, kid?” Mo asked, his eyes dark with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks to Devon.”
I looked over, but Devon was reassuring his mom, Reginald, Felix, and Oscar that he was okay.
Mo took off his white hat and started whipping it back and forth in front of his face to create a breeze. He stared up at the ladder. “Scariest thing I’ve ever seen, the way the rope just fell like that. What happened up there?”
“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out. Give me your phone, and cover me.”
I jerked my head at the ladder. Mo handed over his phone, slapped his hat back on his head, and followed me.
Several officials were already gathered around the ladder, talking, taking photos, and more. The ropes lay where they had fallen—the long, thick brown strands looking like copper crushers lazily sunning themselves in the grass.
“How do you want to play this?” Mo asked.
I grinned. “Just be your usual loud, charming, demanding self.”
He grinned back, then barreled over to the officials. “What is the meaning of this? Did you guys not check the ladder before you let everyone start climbing it?”
One of the officials stepped forward and held his hands out, trying to placate Mo. “Mr. Kaminsky, I assure you that we are looking into the situation—”
Mo poked his finger into the guy’s chest. “Looking into the situation? Looking into the situation? I’d say that we’ve all looked into the situation since everyone saw the ladder fall like it was made out of cotton candy. What I want to know is what you’re going to do about the fact that my guy has a broken leg and there’s a Draconi guard with a busted arm. . . .”
And Mo was off, bellowing at the officials. People stared at him, and I used the distraction to sidle forward, moving closer to the ladder. Everyone was clustered at the base where the majority of the ropes had landed, but one strand had curled around the side of the platform. I bent down, as though I was tying my sneaker, and stared at the rope.
The end was frayed, as though the rope was worn and weak and the weight of the competitors hanging on to it had just been too much. That was exactly what I would expect, given how it had snapped away from the top of the platform. So I looked at it—really looked at it—using my sight magic to pull the rope into supersharp detail.
The rope was frayed—but it had also been cut.
A small, clean slice went about halfway through the strand, one that I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been looking for it with my magic. Cut away half the rope, and the weight of the competitors would have been too much for it. It was no wonder that the other half of the rope had unraveled as quickly as it had.
No way that slice was any sort of normal wear and tear. That was the kind of mark that couldn’t have been made by anything other than a knife. I thought of that flash of silver I’d seen when I’d peered up the ladder, trying to catch up to Vance.
Someone had deliberately cut the rope.
I was sure of it. And I was willing to bet that the other strands had similar slices.
But who had cut the ropes? And why?
I thought back, trying to remember who had been where and when, but the course had been a mad scramble from start to finish, and the ladder had been no different. It would have been easy for someone to pause at the top before they pulled themselves onto the platform, pretend they were winded, pull a knife from their shorts pocket, and slice through some of the ropes, especially if they had a speed Talent to help them pull it off.
This was supposed to be a friendly competition. Did someone really want to win so badly that they would try to take out other people? In the very first event on the very first day? Henry and the Draconi guard could have easily broken their necks. They were lucky they hadn’t been killed. I’d always known that the competition between the Families was cutthroat, but this was something else.
Something dark. Something sinister.
Something deadly.
By this point, the official had herded Mo off to the side of the ladder, and Mo was running out of things to yell at the other man. Time to go. So I angled his phone at the rope, taking several shots of the cut and frayed end. Then I got to my feet, slid the phone into my shorts pocket, and walked behind the official that Mo was still berating. I jerked my head, letting him know that he could
wrap things up. Mo winked back at me.
“Well, perhaps I have been a bit hasty,” he said, his voice suddenly charming instead of angry. “I should let you fellas do your job. Thanks for the info, buddy. Keep up the good work.”
Mo clapped the official on the shoulder, leaving the other man with a dazed expression on his face.
Mo fell in step beside me. “What did you find out, kid?”
“Later,” I whispered back. “When it’s just the Family.”
He nodded, and we headed over to Claudia, Reginald, Devon, Felix, and Oscar, who were checking on the other Sinclair guards.
Through the crowd, I noticed Vance watching me. He realized that I was okay, and he snorted and started talking to Katia, who was frowning, her hazel eyes dark with thought.
I remembered how Vance had thrown sand at me, tried to trip me in the spring, and shoved me out of the way when I was starting up the ladder. He had been directly above me and had just crawled onto the platform when the ropes had given way. He had Talents for speed and strength, so he could have easily cut the ropes in all the confusion. Vance was a jackass, but was he really that much of a monster? I didn’t know.
And he wasn’t the only suspect. Blake had been on top of the platform too, and he outright hated me. He could have cut the ropes to hurt me, or maybe even ordered another one of the Draconis to do it for him in order to take out as many of the other competitors as possible.
Anger and worry surged through my body, and my hands clenched into fists, even as another shiver slithered up my spine. I found myself looking over my shoulder and staring at the imprint of Henry’s body in the grass again.
Oh, yeah. That could have easily been me.
But the far more troubling thought was that maybe someone had wanted it to be me.
CHAPTER TEN
The crowd on the stadium floor was breaking up and drifting away when Mo and I rejoined the others.
“Lila!” Oscar shouted. “There you are! Are you okay?”
If anything, the danger and excitement had added to his sugar high, and the pixie buzz-buzzed-buzzed around and around my head like a helicopter.
“I’m fine,” I said, holding out my hand so he could land on it. “Really, I am.”
Oscar stalked back and forth on my palm, looking me up and down, his black cape fluttering around his shoulders, and his cowboy boots tickling my skin. It was several seconds before he was satisfied enough to fly up, sit on my shoulder, and hug my neck.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.
“Me too.”
I reached out and patted his tiny back, careful not to crush his wings. Oscar hugged my neck again, then stayed perched on my shoulder.
Felix shook his head. “Well, you and Devon put on quite the show. Everyone here got their money’s worth today.”
“How’s Henry?” I asked.
“Dad’s working on him right now. He’s in a lot of pain, and his leg is definitely broken,” Felix replied, his face troubled. “I’m on my way to help. I just wanted to make sure that you guys were okay first.”
He nodded at Devon and me, then broke into a jog, leaving us behind and heading toward the white medical tent.
Claudia stepped up beside me, looking me over just as the others had. When she realized that I was okay, some of the tension eased out of her slender shoulders and her jaw unclenched.
“You had me worried there for a second,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Me too.”
I opened my mouth to tell her what I’d found out about the rope, but she shook her head, stopping me. A second later, I realized why.
Victor Draconi was heading in our direction.
The folks still milling around scrambled out of his way, and whispers sprang up in his wake. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at us, wondering what sort of fireworks might explode between the heads of the two most powerful Families.
Victor stopped in front of Claudia, looking poised, polished, and powerful in his dark gray suit and red tie, which was patterned with tiny gold dragons. Another, larger dragon was stamped into the middle of the wide gold cuff that flashed on his right wrist. He straightened up to his full height, and the sun bounced off his thick, wavy, blond hair and highlighted the sharp angles of his handsome face.
This was the closest I’d ever been to Victor, so close that I could smell his faint, spicy cologne and see exactly how cold his eyes were, despite their rich golden color.
White-hot rage boiled through me, and I had the sudden urge to scream, raise my fists, and charge at him. So many times, I’d dreamed of getting close enough to Victor to run him through with my black blade. Of course, the one time I was actually within striking distance, I didn’t have my sword, much less any other weapon that I could hurt him with.
So I forced myself to smother my rage with reason—because Victor wasn’t alone. Blake and Deah stepped up beside him, with more Draconi guards behind them. Even if I could have gotten past Blake, Deah, and the guards, Victor was more than capable of defending himself.
Especially given all the Talents he had.
Magic radiated off his body, the sensation cold and strong enough to make me shiver, despite the hot, humid day. Claudia didn’t know how many Talents Victor actually had or what he could do with all the magic he’d stolen from other people over the years, but I could feel exactly how powerful he was.
Most of the time, someone had to use their strength, speed, or other Talents against me in some physical way—punch me, shove me, restrain me, whatever—before my transference power flared to life and let me absorb their magic. In a way, anyone who attacked me with his Talents was just hurting himself, since all the magic that soaked into my body made me stronger. But Victor was so powerful that just standing next to him was enough to make my own transference magic stir to life and my body chill with magic.
Normally I welcomed the surge of strength that went along with my Talent, but right now, it made me sick to my stomach.
Victor realized that I was staring at him, and his gaze met mine.
The icy knives of his hate stabbed into my heart, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from gasping in shock or showing any sort of emotion. Victor stared at me a second longer, then swung his golden gaze back to Claudia, dismissing me as unimportant. The feeling of his hate lingered, though, even colder than the invisible waves of magic rolling off his body. I ground my teeth together to keep them from chattering.
“Claudia.”
“Victor.”
The two of them stared at each other, their faces hard and flat. All around us, the whispers faded, and everyone leaned forward, eager to hear every single word they said.
“The officials are telling me that it’s an accident,” Victor said in his deep, rumbling voice. “It’s unfortunate that both of our Families had competitors who were injured.”
“Indeed,” Claudia said, her voice as smooth as his. “I was on my way to check on Henry. How is your guard?”
Victor shrugged. “Just a broken arm. She’ll live. Although I’ve already given her spot in the tournament to someone else.”
Claudia frowned. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged again. “She shouldn’t have fallen.”
“Or once she did, she should have gotten right back up and started climbing again,” Blake chimed in. “Not sat on the ground crying like a little kid who scraped her knee.”
He scoffed, as though he couldn’t believe one of his Family members could be so weak. I looked at Deah, who winced and stared at the ground. She might not agree with Blake and her dad, but she wasn’t going to stand up and tell them how wrong and cruel they were either.
“Funny, I remember you moaning and crying,” Devon drawled. “I’m sure you remember too. It was back in the arcade a few weeks ago when Lila put you in that wrist lock.”
Blake glared at Devon, who smirked back. Even worse, Victor stared at me again, his eyes narrowed in thought as he studied me far more closely
than he had before.
“Well, please give my regards to your guard and tell her that I hope she feels better soon,” Claudia said.
“Of course,” Victor murmured, still staring at me.
His gaze locked with mine. Once again, his icy hate for Claudia and all the Sinclairs surged through me, along with cold curiosity about who I was and what I’d done to his son. This time, I couldn’t hold back my shiver.
Victor looked at me a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Claudia. “I’ll be interested to see how your guards do in the tournament.”
“And I yours,” she replied. “And my congratulations to Deah for finishing second today. She really gave Katia Volkov a run for her money on the course—before the incident.”
Victor’s mouth flattened out. “Yes, well, second place is really only first loser, isn’t it?”
Deah winced again, but she finally spoke up. “I should have beaten her. It won’t happen again. And I’m still going to win the tournament. Don’t worry about that.”
“We’ll talk about that when we get home,” Victor said, his voice as cold with his daughter as it had been with everyone else.
Hurt flashed in Deah’s eyes, and her shoulders drooped. She fixed her gaze on the grass again, as though that would hide the embarrassed blush in her cheeks.
“Until tomorrow then,” Claudia said.
“Until tomorrow,” Victor replied.
He and Claudia tipped their heads at each other; then Victor turned and headed out of the stadium. Blake glared at Devon and me one more time and followed his father. The guards fell in step behind them.
Deah nodded at Claudia, then turned to go. I don’t know why, but something urged me forward, and I stepped up, reached out, and touched her shoulder.
“You really did do a great job today,” I said. “You flew through all the obstacles like they weren’t even there. I couldn’t have done that. I didn’t do that.”
Dark Heart of Magic Page 9
