The Outcast (Sacrisvita Book 7)

by Dylan Steel

  “The book?” Her eyes widened. In all the madness of her kidnapping, she’d nearly forgotten about the book. She’d taken it to Beautification at his instruction with the intention of dropping it off at a secure location. Someone—a Lawless ally—was supposed to retrieve it later. Of course, she’d been taken before she was able to make the drop. She figured it had gotten lost or discarded in the ensuing chaos.

  “Sage, are you paying attention?”

  “Sorry. Yeah. Just… remembering.” She bit her lip, attempting to ignore his sympathetic gaze. “Go on.”

  “One of our own found it.”

  “A Lawless?”

  He nodded. “And we discovered there is something quite remarkable about this book. Something we hadn’t noticed before.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “It was blank when I gave it to you, yes?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded.

  “It was no longer blank when we found it.”

  “What do you mean?” She furrowed her brow. “Did someone else find it first and write in it?” A look of alarm crossed her face. “Oh, no, did they ruin—”

  “—No, no, nothing like that,” Mr. Walsh reassured her, grinning. “It’s definitely an older style of inscription. Nothing modern. It turns out there was writing in it all along, but we just couldn’t see it.” He was having a hard time containing his excitement.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It was the heat from the incinerator, Sage. It pulled out the writing that was already there.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s something we should’ve tried, but we were too cautious—too worried about damaging the books.”

  “It was an accident.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I nearly destroyed it. It was so close…” The memory of the book mere inches from the flames came rushing back to her. She sucked in her breath.

  “Once we realized it was the heat, we were able to expose the remainder of the pages as well,” Mr. Walsh continued. “Of course, we’re planning to attempt the same exposure with the remaining journals once we have access to the Archives again and can smuggle them out. We still haven’t been able to decipher the text, but it’s a lot more progress than we’d made up to this point. And we have you to thank for that.” He hesitated, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye. “I’m just sorry for the way it happened.”

  She was quiet for a few moments. “That’s really good news,” she finally said. “I’m glad it wasn’t lost.”

  One question still burned at the front of her mind. “Mr. Walsh, I need to know. Sophia Bennick—she’s not Lawless, right? The Lawless weren’t the ones who—”

  Mr. Walsh stopped abruptly and held up a hand, interrupting her question. He put a finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the end of the hallway. A group of students came into view, chattering loudly as they walked past. Her heart sank. She wasn’t getting any answers today.

  He flashed her an apologetic look and rubbed his bracelet again. “I’m afraid we’re out of time, Miss Indarra.” They continued forward, turning the corner and coming to a stop just in front of Ms. Sterling’s office.

  Mr. Walsh knocked on the door.

  Ms. Sterling’s voice drifted into the hallway. “Come in.”

  Sage looked at Mr. Walsh expectantly. The little hope she was clinging to was quickly fading. Weakness was setting in over her limbs as she felt her resolve draining.

  His chin lifted slightly as he looked down at her. “I hope you have a productive meeting,” he said, nodding curtly as he pushed open the door. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” He looked her squarely in the eyes for a moment before turning away.

  That was a promise. She saw it in his eyes. She’d get her answers. Just not right now, not today.

  She walked into the room, flinging the door closed behind her. She sank into the plush chair in the office and looked at the woman sitting opposite her.

  “Hello, Sage.” Ms. Sterling flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and flashed a smile at her. Sage wasn’t convinced it was genuine. “What would you like to talk about today? Have you made any breakthroughs since your last visit that you’d like to share?”

  It didn’t matter what she said. Her answers never mattered. They always worked their way back around to her kidnapping. Always back to the facts of the case. Always back to the role Eprah would play in protecting her in the future from any other terrible threats.

  She sighed. “I figured out a really hard math problem yesterday,” she suggested hopefully.

  Ms. Sterling frowned. From the look of disappointment on her face, Sage could tell that they both knew this was going to be a really long session.

  11. MIRROR, MIRROR

  “Wait, we’re not leaving?” Sage skidded to a stop as her fellow Level Thirteens streamed down what she thought was the wrong hallway.

  “Haven’t you been listening all year? We’re not allowed outside the gates anymore.” Pippa wrinkled her nose as she brushed past her.

  Penelope nodded, grabbing Sage’s arm as she dragged her along with the crowd. “It’s still broadcast in the Grand Hall, but all of us stay here. It’s way safer that way.” She shrugged. “Or at least, that’s what they’ve told us.”

  “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for me to kick your butt.” Drue smirked as he rushed past.

  “In your dreams,” Sage scoffed.

  “He’s gotten really good,” Penelope said under her breath. “People’ve been betting that he’ll beat at least eight Level Fourteens this year.”

  “That’s a crazy high number,” Sage said, unable to hide her surprise. “And what’s the deal with all the betting lately?”

  “Dunno. Guess it’s just that we don’t have much else to do. We’re stuck inside, remember?” Penelope shrugged nonchalantly. “Just be glad that one’s not about you.”

  “I guess.”

  As they approached the training room, Sage realized that tables had been set up in the hallway for the pre-tournament bracelet collection and competitive number assignments. They made their way through the line quickly, shuffling through much faster than Sage remembered from previous years. She supposed it helped that the older students were always sent through the line first.

  It was a strange sensation, having the bracelet removed. Two years had passed since she’d last seen herself without it, and even in the dead of winter, there was a faint line of lighter skin where it had been. She ran her fingers over her wrist, enjoying the temporary freedom.

  The girls piled into the training room after their classmates, picking their way deliberately across the mats as they followed the Coordinators’ instructions. Dozens of small cameras whirred overhead, taking in all the activity.

  As they stepped into two separate lines to wait their turn to begin the tournament, Sage poked Penelope and jerked her head upward. “Looks like they’re gonna run into the ceiling,” she said, cautiously eyeing the devices hovering above them.

  Just then, two of the cameras collided, knocking into each other with a loud zip and crack, plummeting to the ground.

  Sage jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the crashing tech. She staggered backward in an attempt to regain her balance, tripping over Nic.

  “Whoa.” His arms shot out, steadying both of them. “You ok?”

  “Fine. Just didn’t see you there.” She straightened quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment. Clumsiness wouldn’t exactly strike fear in the hearts of her competitors. She couldn’t afford to start the tournament with anyone thinking she was off her game today. After missing the chance to compete last year, she needed to earn the best rank she could manage, and her competency was too widely known for her to use the element of surprise.

  A nearby Coordinator picked up the camera drones and passed them off to someone else in the hallway to examine. If they couldn’t be fixed quickly enough, they’d just have to be down a couple cameras for now. The people watching from the Grand Hall would have t
o deal with fewer angles of the fights.

  The noise in the room settled into a whisper as the Bokja Tournament began with its usual fanfare. The Headmaster took his place in the center of the room, smiling for the cameras as he introduced this year’s stellar group of students who were to demonstrate their athletic prowess for Eprah. Coordinators shooed students from one ring to another, keeping the event running as smoothly as they could.

  An absent audience and the change of venue were the only real differences from the last tournament Sage had taken part in. Yet somehow, despite the stakes, the competition felt less serious this year, more like it was just another practice. Probably because there wasn’t much different from class—apart from the cameras, the lack of bracelets, and the fact that all eligible levels were crammed into a room far too small to hold them all. Fortunately, those waiting their turn for longer than three rounds were relegated to the hallway to conserve space.

  Sage blew through her first two rounds relatively easily, finishing the first opponent with a choke hold and the second with a nudge out of bounds. Maybe fights were easier now because she’d had to learn not to hold anything back. Still, it was hard to treat her classmates with the same unforgiving level of intensity that she’d used against Sam.

  She shifted her weight impatiently as she waited for her next match to start, cringing as she watched Penelope take another brutal loss. Stepping into the ring for the third time, she felt good—apart from her shoulder aching where she’d been slammed against the ground in her first match. Another girl stood across the mat from her, a confusing mixture of emotions scrawled across her face. Sage didn’t recognize her, but she didn’t anticipate much of a fight from her.

  Of course, she should’ve known she was wrong.

  As soon as the tone sounded, the other girl exploded forward, faking a combination punch and spinning into a kick that was meant to drop Sage instantly. Stunned, Sage’s reactions were almost sluggish in comparison—nowhere near as quick as they needed to be to fend off the advanced attacks being thrown at her.

  “Ooof.”

  Sage suddenly found herself staring at the ceiling breathlessly as the girl scrambled on top of her, twisting her arm in an unnatural position across her body as she drove her weight into it. Sage gasped, grimacing in pain as she struggled to free herself from the hold.

  “You cost me a lot of Chances,” the girl hissed in her ear as she torqued her arm harder. “You were supposed to be shunned.”

  Sage’s eyes grew wide. No wonder this girl’s attack was so vicious. She’d bet against her as well. This was more than just another tournament match—it was personal.

  Anger blazed inside her. It wasn’t her fault this girl had made the wrong bet—or that she’d bet at all. She was tired of everyone blaming her for their bad choices.

  With a grunt of exertion, Sage swung her legs up, scissoring them over the girl and throwing her backward with one forceful motion. The girl’s face contorted in a satisfying mixture of pain and horror, but Sage didn’t have time to gloat if she wanted to win the match.

  Sage scrambled to get her feet under herself and launched herself forward at the girl without hesitation. They struggled together on the ground for a few too-long seconds, exchanging one blow after another.

  Finally, Sage managed to free one of her arms from the other girl’s grasp. She pulled her hand back, whipping her elbow forward and striking the girl’s jaw. A sickening crack rang out, followed by a loud thud, then silence.

  The noise from the rest of the matches crept back into Sage’s ears. She looked down at the other girl who now lay motionless on the ground. Was she still breathing? Panic rose up in her chest.

  She didn’t even hear the Coordinator telling her to get back until his hands enclosed themselves around her, lifting her off the other girl and into the air. Her vision went dark for a moment as instinct took over. She felt herself screaming, flailing her limbs wildly, trying to strike out at whoever had ahold of her. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be taken. Not again.

  It was obvious the instant one of her kicks found its mark. The man swore as his arms dropped from around her, jerking back to himself protectively. She tumbled to the ground but quickly sprang back up, fists raised. Her chest heaved as she fought to steady her breathing.

  “Miss Indarra!” One of the largest Coordinators had rushed over to her mat at the first sign of trouble and was now towering over her menacingly.

  She froze, taking in reality again. She was at the Institution in the Bokja Tournament, not at the estate. She’d just fought off a Coordinator, not Sam.

  “Get control of yourself,” he growled. “This is unacceptable behavior.”

  “S-sorry.” Sage hung her head.

  He pointed to the door. “Go. Now. Someone will speak with you about this.”

  Everyone’s eyes were on her as she walked off the mat. Once she made it into the hallway, she picked her way through the throng of students to the back of the line. No one there had seen what she’d just done.

  She pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could be invisible. The whispers that followed her suddenly grew much louder, a loud murmur echoing through the hall as the sea of competitors was pushed back away from the doorway.

  “Give her some space!”

  Three Coordinators were forcing their way into the hallway. The first was shouting and pushing students out of his path, blazing a trail for the two behind him. The other two flanked the ends of a medical hammock, carrying the still-unconscious form of the girl Sage had beaten. They were rushing out in an awkward run-walk motion, jostling her haphazardly while heading in the direction of the on-call medics. Given the looks of panic on their faces, they probably would have been sprinting if they’d been a bit more coordinated, but it was obvious they weren’t going to risk dropping the girl.

  Sage chewed her lip as she watched them disappear down the opposite end of the hall. She’d been so angry. She hadn’t held back, and she probably should’ve. What if she’d really hurt her? What if she’d—

  “She’ll be ok.”

  A voice startled Sage out of her daze. She looked over to her side and saw Everett still looking at the end of the hall where the girl had disappeared.

  “Don’t worry. No one’s died in the tournament in years. And even if they did, the doctors can bring them back with basically no effort. At least that’s the rumor.” He turned to her and crossed his arms, grinning. “Seriously. Don’t worry.”

  Sage turned away without saying a word and shook her head. She didn’t want to think about it, and his words certainly hadn’t made her feel any better. No one’s died in years. If anything, it made it worse to know the thought had crossed someone else’s mind too.

  She barely noticed the line surging forward as the tournament continued on as if nothing had gone wrong. After a few minutes, she was sandwiched in the middle of more students, a mixture of winners and losers bringing up the ever-changing end of the line.

  Before long, the room’s entrance was in view again, and Sage could make out what was happening in a few of the fights. It was barely helping to distract her, but she was grateful to be able to see something else going on outside of the thoughts tumbling through her own mind.

  Everett nudged her and nodded toward two Level Sixteens who had just begun circling each other. “Not sure if you’ve heard about them. This one’s gonna be worth watching.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn’t hide her curiosity. Neither could the rest of the room. Everyone who wasn’t fighting was watching them.

  The two boys were almost comically mismatched. Both were clearly athletic, but the darker-haired boy only reached as high as the middle of the blonde’s torso. The blonde had to have at least sixty pounds on the smaller boy, but the weight disadvantage didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.

  On the mat, the boys eyed each other ferociously, two predators unwilling to be labeled prey. When the starting tone sounded, they struc
k at the same time, attacking each other with fists flying so quickly, it was nearly impossible to figure out which limbs belonged to which boy. The smaller boy had clearly learned how to use his opponent’s size to his advantage. He focused on quick, short bursts while the bigger boy favored slower, more powerful attacks.

  Tumbling to the ground, they rolled end over end to the edge of the boundary. The Coordinator squatted down, watching the line closely to see if he could catch sight of either boy crossing it. The bigger boy snarled and braced himself at the edge of the line, pumping his legs against the mat and scooting both of them back into the center of the ring.

  As soon as they cleared the line, the smaller boy dug in his heels, popping himself back up on his feet. The other boy got to his feet with only slightly less finesse, launching a low attack immediately at the smaller boy.

  Sage’s jaw dropped when she saw how high the boy jumped to avoid the blow, easily pushing off his opponent and flipping backward in the air.

  “Whoa,” she whispered.

  Everett grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the fighters.

  It was obvious that the blonde wasn’t used to losing. His face reddened as he stumbled forward, catching himself just before the smaller boy could get in a set of jabs. Veins bulged from his face and neck as his arm shot out, gripping the other boy’s already-outstretched arm.

  With a powerful flick of his wrist, he managed to flip the other boy, catching his ankle as he somersaulted in mid-air. The next move was so quick, so fluid, that it was almost impossible to tell exactly how he’d done it, but he was now spinning in a circle, wrenching both of them in an unnatural, violent spiral.

  Sage hadn’t seen anyone thrown out of the ring before. Not like this.

  The blonde released his hold, sending the smaller boy soaring through the air. Her eyes followed his trajectory as his face contorted in frustration, eyes darkening with anticipation of the pain he was about to endure.

  He flew several feet before smashing lengthwise against the mirror on the wall. Glass cracked and shattered, showering down around him as he collapsed on the ground. A collective gasp was heard throughout the room, followed by complete silence as everyone stopped and stared, forgetting their own matches.