Oh, that isn’t fair! she thought a moment later, setting down her fork. Her Systema class had been moved to right after breakfast—and it was going to be one of the new extra long ones, too. Her Norse Folklore class had been moved to just before lunch (she was starting to wonder if Madison Lane-Rider ever slept), and in the afternoon, there was an Endurance Ride—which would take the whole afternoon, and kill her if Ovcharenko didn’t manage it this morning.
I wasn’t supposed to be stuck with Endurance Riding again until next week! she thought angrily.
The Endurance class could only accommodate twelve riders at a time, so they only had it every third day. The lucky class scheduled for a Thursday ride got four days between rides, not three—but thanks to “class reorganization” she had it again this afternoon!
I remember hating Mr. Wallis’s gym class. I’d give anything if he were teaching it now, she thought dolefully. There was no point in eating breakfast now. She’d just end up puking all over the gym.
“Awww … kitten,” Muirin said with fulsome mockery. “You’ve got to turn that frown upside down!” She leaned against the edge of the table.
Spirit just shook her head wearily. Muirin was dressed for Vogue, not for Oakhurst, and getting here in time for breakfast was clearly not an issue with her these days.
“Madison was telling me about her new boutique, and it’s going to be so awesome—she says she’s going to talk to the Fashion Institute of Technology about showcasing some of their student designers—light-years better than all those Sixth Avenue hacks!—and even have Breakthrough fund an FIT scholarship for Oakhurst students! She’s going to completely redo one of those vacant shops in Radial as her flagship store and maybe even do a fashion shoot at the Spring Fling—you know, because just about everyone there’s going to be wearing one of her dresses? I know I am—and it’s going to be fabulous! No more of this tacky makeover crap from the Isle of Misfit Prom Gowns—and the Dance! I really don’t know why you guys are bothering with the Dance Committee—Madison told me she’d consider it an honor to take over the whole design—”
“Madison told me.” “Madison said.” Don’t you know any other words, Muirin? How can you think she’s going to keep a single one of her promises? All this was absolutely insane. Why would anyone who intended to start a fashion line showcase their stuff at a hick town dance? Well, the answer, of course, was that they wouldn’t, if starting a fashion line was really what they were doing. But if it was all part of a recruiting scheme, well, it didn’t matter how crazy something sounded as long as the fish swallowed the bait. Madison Lane-Rider—and Breakthrough—were dangling everything Muirin had ever wanted in front of her, no matter how crazy it sounded to Spirit, and Muirin was smart enough to know she’d only get those things by doing what they wanted.
The question was—exactly what would Muirin Shae do to get all of her dreams handed to her on a silver platter?
QUERCUS told me we’d be safe if we kept our heads down and didn’t stand out, but I don’t think that’s going to work much longer, Spirit thought as Muirin babbled on. She didn’t seem to care whether Spirit was listening or not. But things are getting really bad really fast, and I’m starting to think we can’t escape—if we try it, we’ll just vanish like all the others, and I really don’t want to know where to.…
QUERCUS was the only thing that let Spirit hold on to the hope that they might—possibly—live through this. In January, Oakhurst had arranged a field trip to Billings. Muirin hadn’t been on the list of students authorized to go, but she’d stowed away, partly for the chance to pick up some contraband—she’d been smuggling harmless (but forbidden) items into Oakhurst since before Spirit arrived. She’d asked Spirit to sneak her items into the school with her own purchases—knowing Spirit’s bags wouldn’t be searched—and of course Spirit said yes.
That was when the Ironkey flash drive had mysteriously appeared. At first Spirit had thought it belonged to Muirin, but Muirin had never asked her for it, and when she plugged it in to her computer, Spirit could get past the Oakhurst firewall.
And more to the point, a chatroom opened where she could talk to QUERCUS.
Whoever he was.
At first she’d thought “QUERCUS” was just a name, but thanks to her hideous Latin Classes, she now knew “quercus” was Latin for “oak tree.” And given the big honking Oak Tree in the Grand Foyer, she couldn’t think the name was a coincidence. He’d told her to trust her instincts, to be kind, to seem as harmless as possible. It might be stupid to trust him without knowing anything about him, but she did.
Only how can it matter whether or not I trust him if I’m dead? And, oh, Muirin, I’m trying really hard to believe you’re still one of us, but I don’t think you’d be this cruel if it was just an act.…
It was all she could do to nod as if she was actually listening to Muirin.
She was afraid of what would happen if she looked like she wasn’t.
* * *
As she reluctantly changed for Systema, Spirit was still trying to decide what they should do, because the one thing she was sure of was that they needed to do something fast. The list of things they should do was staggering: find out whether Doctor Ambrosius was a helpless pawn of the Shadow Knights—or their accomplice. Find out what happened to Merlin. (Because the one thing I know is he’s sure not in that oak tree anymore, she thought.) Find out what the Shadow Knights wanted—with all of them, and just in general.
And oh yeah, we have to stop them, too. Somehow. She slammed her locker door as hard as she could.
* * *
She didn’t know whether she was glad or worried to see Burke in class. At least it means he’s still alive, she thought wearily. For now.
The new class was twice its previous size, and Spirit didn’t hold out much hope of Ovcharenko keeping the beginning and advanced students separate during sparring. As always, he started by picking out a sparring partner. As usual, he picked Dylan.
Oh, come on! Spirit thought in indignation. He just got out of the Infirmary two days ago!
Dylan looked as horrified as Spirit felt. He looked around wildly for allies, but even in a place that encouraged them all to hate each other, Dylan was especially disliked. Spirit swallowed hard, hating her own fear, wishing she were brave enough to offer herself in Dylan’s place. Nobody else had been as brave as Trinity. She’d stood up to Ovcharenko.
Yeah, and she didn’t even make it as far as the next meal.
“Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” Burke walked up to the front of the room. He stopped directly in front of Ovcharenko. “You scared to?”
Oh Burke, no! Spirit thought in horror. QUERCUS said we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves! But Burke didn’t know that. All he knew—all any of them knew—was that Spirit had told them not to draw attention to themselves. She’d been afraid to tell them about QUERCUS—she still remembered how hard it had been to get the others to take the danger they were all in seriously. Of course those days were past, but that just meant all of them were looking for someone to help them. If she told them about QUERCUS, they’d expect him to do something.
And how could she tell Loch and Burke and Addie about QUERCUS and not tell Muirin?
She wasn’t sure she dared tell Muirin a secret that big.
Spirit whimpered softly as Ovcharenko smirked. He opened his mouth to say something—make one of his cheerful horrible jokes.
He didn’t get the chance.
Burke Hallows—big, shy, sweet, gentle Burke—waded into him like an enraged pit bull.
The students scattered. Spirit heard screams. But she couldn’t move, and she couldn’t look away. Burke obviously meant to kill Ovcharenko—and Ovcharenko knew it. She could hear the fast hard slapping of flesh against flesh as attack and defense and counterattack moved too fast for her to see. Burke’s nose was already broken; blood streamed down his face and soaked his shirt. It sprayed the floor as he shook his head.
Ovcharenko
started forward. Burke spun and slammed an elbow into his face. The Russian spat blood and jumped backward. Burke sprang forward—and slipped on the blood-wet floor. The gym shook as he went down.
Spirit didn’t realize she’d crammed her fist into her mouth until someone yanked it down.
“Suck it up, Spooky,” Dylan hissed, squeezing her wrist hard enough to bring tears of pain to her eyes. “You want to show them he’s your weak spot?”
She gave a tiny nod of understanding. Dylan stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. Spirit clenched her fists at her sides, digging her fingernails into her thighs.
Burke was up again, and for the first time, Ovcharenko looked worried. He was a master martial artist, a trained killer, Bratva—a member of Russkaya Mafiya. But Burke was a Combat Mage, he was finally facing the man who’d had his foster family murdered, and for the first time in his life he was completely committed to winning. In five minutes he’d taken the worst Ovcharenko could throw at him—and he’d learned from it. Now he bared his teeth in a feral grin and moved in for the kill.
Five seconds—ten—one of them had to tire soon. Ovcharenko’s last kick had broken several fingers on Burke’s right hand. Burke couldn’t use it now. But he pushed forward, using his greater size as a weapon.
Ovcharenko grabbed his arm. Burke writhed and twisted, desperate to keep his elbow from being broken. Ovcharenko shouted in triumph as he flung Burke to the floor.
But Burke had grabbed Ovcharenko as he fell backward. The two bodies hit the floor with one impact, then Burke rolled up on one knee and—so fast it all seemed to be one move—whipped Ovcharenko over his head as if he were a rag doll and flung him the length of the gym.
Ovcharenko hit the wall with a crash and slid down it, limp and boneless.
No one made a sound. Not even Ovcharenko.
“Is he dead?” Zoey whispered into the silence.
“No! Only sleeping!” an unfamiliar voice boomed cheerfully, and everyone jumped.
The speaker strode into the gym—he must have been watching the fight from the other side of the doors. “But I can see that little Anastus is far beyond his skill here! Greetings, leaders of tomorrow! I am Beckett Green—and I promise, I will make you all cry and bleed!” He roared with laughter—as if this was a great joke.
Beckett Green was at least six-four, muscled like … Spirit wasn’t sure what to compare him to. She’d never seen anyone who looked like him before in her life. Well, not in real life. On the TV, in movies, maybe. Cartoons, video games were even closer. He didn’t look real, he looked like a special effect. He reached down to pick up Ovcharenko as if the man weighed nothing at all. He held him out at arm’s length and shook him as if he was trying to beat the dust out of him. When Ovcharenko began to stir, Beckett dropped him abruptly. Ovcharenko staggered and sat down hard.
Burke was just getting to his feet. Beckett strode across the gym toward him. Burke wiped his face with the back of his hand—wincing—and regarded Beckett warily. Beckett reached him and clapped Burke on the shoulder, then pulled him into a warm embrace.
“Another Combat Mage! My brother—I had despaired of finding another like myself in all this wide world! We will have great fun together, you’ll see!” He stepped back, hands on Burke’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length and smiling at him. The smile looked honestly joyful. “You are wary. I understand. But I swear to you there will never be any tricks between us. It is unworthy between brothers and soldiers. I promise you this, my brother.”
Spirit saw Burke relax and smile back. It was impossible not to believe Beckett was telling the truth—but that only made everything worse.
Had Oakhurst—had the Shadow Knights—finally found the one thing that could tempt Burke?
FOUR
In the middle of a ragged mob of her fellow sufferers, Spirit trudged wearily in the direction of the stables. With Systema right after breakfast—or whatever might be replacing it with Mr. Green as the new teacher—and Endurance Riding right after lunch, she was probably going to starve to death, because only an idiot would eat before either class. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Mia Singleton—the Breakthrough riding instructor—had announced at lunch that they now had enough horses for twenty kids to ride at a time. That meant Endurance Riding was going to be every other day now, instead of every third day. And worst of all, she’d also said that from now on, certain Oakhurst courses were going to be open to Radial students.
“Looks like glasnost has come to McBride County,” Loch said, so low she and Addie were the only ones who heard. “Do we call it the Montanan Spring?”
Burke was in the other Endurance Class, and of course Muirin hadn’t shown up for any of the Endurance Classes for weeks. It was (just barely) safe for the three of them to talk to each other: during this class everyone was moving around so much it was likely they’d be overlooked. And a lot of it took place out of sight of the teachers.
“If they’re letting the Townies in it’s because Oakhurst wants more cannon fodder,” Loch added. “You can bet on that.”
But is that the real reason? Spirit wondered morbidly. Or all of it? It didn’t make sense—at least if the point of Oakhurst was to train magicians to fight a wizard war. But on the other hand … If you wanted to take over an entire town … how would you do that? Wouldn’t you start by getting rid of the people who’d fight you?
Sure you would. But you’d have to find them first. And what better way to do that than by convincing all their kids that Breakthrough was the best thing that ever happened to Radial? Once people like Brett and Juliette and Kennedy decided they wanted Breakthrough here, they’d complain long and loud about anyone who disagreed. Breakthrough would have its spies—and the spies wouldn’t even know they were doing it.
Yeah, and if I tried to explain it to them, guess who’d be at the top of their Enemies List?
When she and the rest of the class arrived at the stables, the Radial kids were already there and on their horses. There were eight kids here from town. Spirit recognized Brett and Juliette Weber, Tom and Adam Phillips, and (of all people) Kennedy Lewis, the Radial Dance Committee’s token Goth. The other three—two boys and a girl—were kids Spirit didn’t know.
“Looks like they aren’t going to be getting the full meal deal,” Loch whispered in her ear, and Spirit snorted. The Townies would run screaming from a typical class day at Fortress Oakhurst. (“Fortress.” Just like the one in Radial, right? Ha and also ha.)
As usual, there was a big pile of equipment waiting on the ground in front of the stable doors, and twenty horses—one for each Oakhurst student—milled restively in the paddock. (It didn’t matter if you had a favorite horse: you took what you could grab.) They were bridled but not saddled. Their saddles hung from the fence itself. Spirit shivered as she and the others came to a stop: it was cold out here, and the presence of the Townies meant none of them could cheat and use their magic to do things like make it warmer.
“Welcome to Endurance Riding,” Ms. Singleton said, walking out of the stable. “As this is the first class for some of you, I’m going to go over the rules again. You are required to cover a marked ten-mile obstacle course. Oakhurst students must carry a full pack of equipment; Radial students must simply complete the marked course. As usual, Oakhurst students will be graded on success in choosing equipment and equipping their mounts. All participants will be graded on speed over the course and elegance in navigating obstacles. Failure to successfully complete all elements of the module will count as a failure for the day.”
The Radial kids snickered. The Oakhurst kids didn’t.
Ms. Singleton pulled out a stopwatch. Spirit felt tension ripple through her fellow students like an electrical charge. “Oh my god,” Addie breathed. “There isn’t enough equipment for everyone—”
“Go!” Ms. Singleton barked.
“Get the horses!” Loch said, shoving Addie in the direction of the paddock. He grabbed Spirit by the arm and dragged her in the di
rection of the supplies.
The equipment list you were supposed to carry with you was everything you’d need to spend two or three days in the wilderness. Bedroll, shelter half, two canteens, food, medical supplies … Before she’d memorized the list, it had taken Spirit precious minutes to locate every item and get them on her saddle. Now collecting them was second nature.
Most of the kids headed for the paddock, to catch and saddle their horses, but a few of the more suspicious ones went for the equipment first. Spirit and Loch worked frantically, collecting three of everything—six of the things they needed in duplicate. At least the three of them weren’t the only ones working together, Spirit realized gratefully. She knew Mia Singleton was paying close attention and watching everything.
By the time they were done, the first half-dozen students had their horses saddled and had begun to load them. That was when it became obvious to everyone there wasn’t enough equipment, and so the stable yard was a chaotic jumble of shouting students, jostling nervous horses—and fights. It was like a bizarre and sadistic game of musical chairs. She wondered how much equipment was here. How many students would fail today? What was the penalty for failure?
Out of the corner of her eye, Spirit saw Kristi Fuller make a dash toward the pile of equipment she and Loch were guarding. Without stopping to think Spirit grabbed one of the canteens and swung it like a mace. It hit Kristi on the shoulder, knocking her sprawling. She scrabbled to her feet before she was trampled.
How could I do something like that? Spirit thought in horror, looking down at the canteen in her hands.…
“Loch!” Addie rode toward them, leading two saddled horses.
“You load—I’ll guard!” Loch said.
Spirit grabbed a set of saddlebags and ran toward Addie. Saddlebags first, then you could lash down the bedroll and shelter half. If you didn’t get the items onto your horse in the correct order, most of them would just fall off during the ride.
Sacrifices Page 6
