The weight of my young life fell about my shoulders and I struggled to find the words. My heart soared at the thought of such an honor. Still, something held my feet firmly to the ground. Wait...why am I even hesitating? Instinct had kept me alive so far and my initial instinct was to jump at the chance and never look back. Nevertheless, there was something else, some niggling down deep in my subconscious that was trying to scream out but was too far away to be clearly heard. With a deep breath, I chose to ignore it. I looked right into the magistrate's wise old eyes and said, "It would be my honor, sir."
"Well done, young Paris!" The magistrate glanced at the headmistress, who slipped into the gymnasium, Dusk tagging along behind her, leaving me alone with my new boss. "Now," he said as soon as they were out of sight and earshot, his face growing darkly serious, "it is time for a final decision, an ultimate understanding and acceptance." He took a single step back in order to look me in the eyes without me having to lean back a bit. He towered over my small frame. "Will you stand for me? Will you protect your magistrate with every ounce of your being?" He paused for an answer.
"Yes," I said, understanding what was expected of me at that pivotal moment.
"Will you risk your own life? Will you give your own life to protect your magistrate?"
"Yes."
"Will you make every sacrifice? Will you take any life in the performance of your duties to protect your magistrate?"
This time, I hesitated. Only once had I killed in the course of my training. It had not been my intent, yet it had. I was fighting to the height of my ability, damn the consequences, when my strike fell solid into the softness of Katrina's neck. I realized instantly that I'd killed her. It came as a shock, yet I found I could not grieve much for the girl I barely knew, one who had failed to protect herself in a brutal duel. I had only done what was necessary and she had not. Thus, I lived and she had died. Still, would I kill again? Would I do so to protect this man? Would I do so upon orders? In a moment of deep self-comprehension, I had to admit to myself and to him that I would. "Yes," I said.
The magistrate nodded. "Good. Now, you will face your final test, your final challenge. Win or lose, your destiny is on the line, young Paris. Are you ready to set your own fate?"
I nodded, the only weak action I could muster. Holding my breath, I followed the magistrate into the gymnasium. I had a feeling I was about to undergo the fight of my young life, whatever was beyond that door. When we walked in, I saw a single opponent standing in the center of the gym. All of the sparring mats had been removed and the waxed floor of the oversized room was spread out around him. My breath fell from me in a slow exhalation as I stared at the nasty smile on Salem's face.
CHAPTER 16
PRESENT
W hen I saw the flash of deep black hair, my first thought was, what in the world is she doing? It only took a second for me to realize what was going on. She had ducked down by the women's t-shirts for a few seconds and then reappeared moving around the corner away from me. I really needed to get my curiosity in check, I thought, as I dashed around the nearest end of the aisle, trying to catch a glimpse of the thief.
"Well, well," I said. I leaned against the edge of the tall display shelves, smirking at Rae as she looked back at me wide-eyed. "Red-handed. That's the term isn't it? Yes, I believe it is." I laughed out loud as she shushed me.
"Keep it down, will you?" she pleaded, her head darting from side to side, checking for store associates.
"No worries, kid. Like I give a shit, really." I strolled up to her, pretending to peek into her shoulder bag. "Get anything good?" I had an armful of several dresses, skirts and blouses. "I was going to check out the jeans next. Join me?"
Rae stood there for long moments determining whether I would be a help or a hindrance, finally deciding I would be neither. It worked for her, since I could be her cover. No one would question her being with another girl who was actually purchasing the items she possessed.
We were thumbing through the jeans, picking out a few pairs that looked pretty cute when I caught her staring at me. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and raised my eyebrow. "See anything you like, sweetie?"
"Huh? Oh. No. I mean—"
"No? Oh, come on, now. You don't know what you're missing. I'd haunt your dreams forever after."
"Jesus!" she said. I could see she was trying to stifle a giggle. "You've got no shame, do you?"
"Shame? What're you talking about? Why should I feel shameful for my desires?" This caught her off-guard. She took a step backward, as if I was going bite her. That wasn't my current plan. I did not want to bed her, either. "Easy, kid. I'm just fucking with you."
"I don't know what to make of you," she said, her eyes examining me as if I were under a microscope.
"You can't make me anything but what I am, sweetie."
" but, what are you?"
"What do you mean?" I was enjoying this repartee.
"You can't be more than seventeen or eighteen but you talk and act like my fifty year-old aunt. She's got a mouth on her, too. but, it's more than that."
"Don't over-think it, kid. You might hurt yourself."
"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'm pretty much the same age as you but you call me kid. And, you mean it. Like you're—" She stopped in mid-sentence and her dark green eyes narrowed in suspicion. She was a sharp cookie, this one. I couldn't help but like her, even though I wasn't sure why. She was young and presumptuous and naïve, among other attri butes I had not experienced in over a century. I shuddered to think that she might remind me of myself.
"I'm hungry," I said, before she could put her thoughts into words. "You want to join me for a late dinner. Or, early breakfast? Whatever."
"Uh, I'm not sure."
"Good answer. Wise. Still, I can't tempt you with some scrumptious Denny's pancakes? My treat." I reached out and took her bag, hauling out the two t-shirts she'd pulled from the shelves. "These, too."
"Hey!" she said, snatching her bag back. I held up the tees.
"Shit. You ripped them when you removed the magnetic thingies. Let's go get you fresh ones." I tossed the two damaged shirts over my shoulder, onto the floor and led Rae away.
If I'd been paying closer attention, I might have noticed then that we were being watched. I'd realize later how sloppy I'd been. And, what it would cost me.
CHAPTER 17
PRESENT
S o, where're you from?" I asked, as I shoveled another huge bite of syrupy pancakes into my mouth. It was my second stack and Rae seemed both awed and disgusted at how much I ate. With my metabolism, I could have eaten a lot more but I was trying to blend in.
"Augusta," she said, sipping her coffee. "Georgia."
"Ah, the Peach State. What the hell brought you down here, anyway?" I focused more on my food, in order to steer clear of her thoughts. I'd rather let her tell it.
"I needed to get away. From everything." She hesitated. Seeing that I was still in mid-consumption and expecting more, she continued. "No one got me, there. I was just some freak with a penchant for harming myself." She saw my look of askance. "Not on purpose. Well, not at first. I just seemed to get hurt a lot."
"Accidents?" I asked between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and truly yummy-smelling bacon.
"Sometimes." She picked at her food a little, eating less than I would have expected. I silently hoped I'd not ruined her appetite. The girl was too thin as it was. I waited while she contemplated her next words. "At least, she said it was. but, I grew to understand that wasn't true. She just couldn't control her temper."
"Your mom?" I asked. She nodded.
"Finally, after being told you're worthless so many times, you start to believe it. I made the mistake of trying to escape." Without realizing it, she'd been rubbing a finger over one of the scars on her wrist for a full minute. "I was stupid. I let her convince me of lies and half-truths. When I came to, in the hospital, the world just seemed a whole hell of a lot clearer to me."
&nbs
p; "I knew you were smart." I smiled and bit of egg escaped my grin and fell back onto my plate. Rae giggled and shook her head.
"God, you are so weird," she said. "Why is it I'm so drawn to you? I should've run away the moment you started going on about death and curiosity being the only thing worth living for."
"Really? I scare you that much?" I was dancing my fork around some crumbled bits of egg, trying desperately to secure them for another bite. Glancing up at Rae, she was full on smiling at me and I realized that she was quite a remarkable looking young woman.
"Not now. At first, though, yes."
"Well, I'm all alone in this city of light. So it's nice hanging out with someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Yeah," I said, as I wiped bits of scrambled eggs from my mouth and took a long swig of my cola. "Someone who had a death wish but wised up to the possibilities of life. Someone like me."
CHAPTER 18
1890, THE CITADEL, AGE 13
T he sheer number of people present caused me to pause in place. The magistrate strode across the floor, pausing briefly to say something to Salem. Whatever It was, the look on the boy's face made it clear to me that this was not to be a regular sparring match. I realized in that moment that I may have signed my own death warrant. Salem had been gunning for me since our first year of martial arts training. I could not fathom why he hated me so, not that it would matter after that fateful day for either of us.
The magistrate took a seat in the center of the tiered bleachers on the far side of the gymnasium. To his right sat the dark boy, Dusk; to his left sat a strikingly beautiful girl of Dusk's age with golden-blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that peered at me from across the room. She appeared to be the exact opposite of Dusk, so I could only assume she was the sister the magistrate had mentioned, Dawn. It made sense in an odd sort of way.
No one spoke and there was no referee. The two of us, Salem and I, were on our own.
Steeling myself against what I could only assume was my impending doom, I strode out to the center of the floor to meet Salem. As I approached, I pondered my decision and my apparent fate. Is this what it all comes down to? My family destroyed, left orphaned on the streets, an outcast, only to be taken in, cared for, educated and taught to defend myself so I can face certain destruction at the hands of another hapless child? It seemed so unfair, so wrong. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like crying, but I knew I could not display any sort of weakness to the prick standing before me. Salem deserved nothing less than my all and he had no right to see my weakness at the end.
"What's up, brat?" He smiled that ridiculously arrogant smile of his and my resolve began to flow back into my being. "You ready to die?"
"You have always been far too mouthy, Salem. Maybe today is the day that mouth will be shut for good."
"I highly doubt it, you little nothing. It's time someone finally knocked you off that fucking high horse of yours, like I promised you I would."
I was about to respond when we heard the magistrate clear his throat. We turned to face him and I noticed that Master Asaro was seated one level up and to the left of him. I caught sensei's eye for a split second. I did not miss the almost imperceptible nod he gave me. At least he was on my side, if no one else gave a damn.
"The best of luck to each of you," the magistrate said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "You may begin."
One of the things I had learned about Salem early on was that he could not be trusted. He was happy to bend and break the rules, as long as it would benefit him. Before the magistrate's words had faded, I ducked and slid to my right, saving myself from Salem's first sucker punch. His fist cleaved the air where my head had been only a moment before. I danced to the right and around his back. As he turned, I kicked out, aiming for his kidneys. I missed, then skillfully dropped and rolled to avoid his follow-through attack.
We circled each other, determining our plans of battle. All the years of training came bubbling up to the surface. Every fight the two of us had ever had had been in preparation for this battle. It had all been practice, anticipation. I slowed my breathing, regaining my calm, taking in every detail of Salem and his movements. He was over a head taller than I and easily had thirty pounds on me. Being a year older—and male—he'd filled out more. It was going to be a very lopsided fight, leaning automatically in his favor.
"I'm gonna enjoy pounding on you," he said with an ominous glee in his voice like none I'd ever heard from him before.
There wasn't much time, so I had to ask, "Salem, before you enjoy that pounding, can you answer a question I've had for a while?"
"We aren't in school anymore, dimwit. Questions don't matter." He leapt at me and I swung my upper body sideways and down to avoid the blow. It glanced off my shoulder. Even that light tap stung. His weight and power were far too much for me.
"Seriously," I continued, as we darted in and out at each other, searching for an opening, a false move that would give us the opportunity to hurt the other, "Why do you hate me so much? What'd I ever do to you to deserve that?"
"You mean other than being a stupid girl?" He frowned a little and then struck out once more with a jab that I managed to block. His answer was not what I had expected. "You irritated me the first time I met you," he said. "You're always so calm, walking around with that air of superiority, like you're better than everyone else. You're just like my mother. She got what she deserved, though, and so will you."
I swept a leg but he easily leapt over it, kicking out at my head. The edge of his foot scraped against my temple and I rolled away, seeing stars. Shaking my head to regain some order to my thoughts, I failed to block his next strike. My cheek exploded in pain and I went down with a thud. As I felt Salem fall on top of me, I knew I could not remain on the floor, or he'd pummel me to death with ease. Before he had time to wind up for his next punch, my hand found the tender and sensitive flesh of his groin. I'd never squeezed anything so hard in my life and his resulting scream was piercing and frightening.
I rolled away and struggled to my feet, again trying to uncloud my brain, as Salem curled up in the floor in pain. All's fair in love and war. That thought took on new meaning for me. I knew if I were to survive the battle, I had to throw out the rules, to ignore morality and fair play. I took a few steps toward the fallen Salem. He saw me through the tears in his eyes and that hate burned brighter than ever. Scrambling to his feet, he kept his distance while he fought to recover from the pain throbbing in his smashed testicles.
I decided to use his previous statements against him. "Are your bollocks feeling a bit wonky, Salem? Sorry about that. Wait. No, I'm not. but then again, it's not like you'd ever use them, right? Like you said, you don't fancy girls. I would've never pegged you as a poof. Looks can be deceiving, I suppose." I hoped if I riled him up, he might just stumble in his wits and make a mistake.
"You bitch! I'll make you pay for this."
"I'm sure you will," I muttered, mostly to myself and we continued our cat-and-mouse dance of battle.
Moments later, I managed a decent hit, sneaking in with a left and following through with an awkward knee that landed firmly in his gut. Unfortunately, it was a little too high to continue my previous damage to his groin. By the second, Salem was regaining his momentum and speed. He was terribly quick for his size, something that had cost me many-a-match in the past. I knew I'd have to keep an eye on that and play against it somehow.
It struck me as odd that there was no oohing or aahing, no cheers or gasps from the crowd gathered to watch us beat each other senseless. My thoughts were on Salem and not dying, but something about the silence triggered a notion in my mind: This isn't really about a position in some guard post. This is about survival. Of all of the kids who'd begun schooling with me over four years prior, only four remained. I took a split second to see if London and Grigorio were in the crowd, watching us go at each other. It took several well-timed glances, but I finally found London, sitting of
f to the far right, a couple seats away from Dawn.
I caught myself pausing in shock and then forced my body to keep moving, eluding my opponent. The sight of London, her blackened eyes and arm in a sling, burned itself into my mind. Shit. Only three of us remain.
I saw Salem in a whole new manner, more of a roadblock than a mere opponent. He was the one thing standing between me and life itself. My destiny would be set this day: life or death, survival or failure. It was entirely up to me. And, again, I heard the music.
The powerful rhythms and lyrics swam through my mind as my body began to move in syncopation and countermeasure with the timpani and the words I remembered, words that had been translated for me by Master Asaro the year before: "Abandon all hope you who enter here." Liszt's symphony calmed me and gave me focus.
I let my body move with abandon, incorporating the martial arts I'd learned with my small body's natural, graceful movement, staying in synch with the music. I danced around Salem, striking at him from unusual angles. He was confused and unable to defend against most of them but he was a fighter by nature; for every three hits I placed successfully, he managed at least a glancing blow in return. One of those blows almost did me in. Even as I saw it coming, I was not quick enough to elude it. Light blossomed behind my left eye and my stomach turned with sudden nausea.
With every ounce of fortitude I could muster, I continued the fluid movements, allowing the music to rise in volume in my head. When Salem made his next attack, I was ready. With a twist and fall of my torso, I swept back up as he passed, then struck out with force. My palm made a terrible pop against his cheek.
I faltered in my movement when I saw Salem stop dead still and stare at me. His hand went to his face, his wide eyes darting to the observing crowd. It was with amusement that I realized I had embarrassed him by slapping him. I remembered the look of anger that had flashed across the boy's face when Mr. Marco had slapped him in class years before. If I had simply struck him with my fist, that would have been a proper martial action. Now, a slap by a girl seemed to have pushed him past some strange mental wall. I could see my opportunity arise as he blinked away tears and bellowed in rage. His wet eyes narrowed and he rushed at me.
The Waif's Tale (Valence of Infinity Book 1) Page 6
