All That Lives Must Die mc-2

by Eric Nylund

  The unexpected motion threw Eliot. His hand slipped from Jeremy’s sweat-slick grasp. . and Eliot tumbled off.

  Airborne, panic spiked through Eliot. He was in free fall, arms and legs thrashing.

  Three fingers dragged along the chain link-grabbed-and he whipped around, slamming into it.

  Overhead, two more nails screeched out.

  Jeremy had pulled him off deliberately.

  He’d said he had to “be first to the flag.” Was winning so important to Jeremy he was willing to murder Eliot? Maybe. Then he could find a replacement for Eliot on the team, too.

  Eliot scrambled up onto the beam.

  Jeremy had already made it halfway across the beam to the stairs. He had his hands outstretched for balance.

  Eliot ran. He didn’t worry about balance. He was concerned only with momentum. He plowed shoulder-first into Jeremy-shoved him off the beam. Not so hard, however, that he’d go flying off as Eliot had, but enough so he fell down.

  Eliot stepped in the middle of his back and ran over him.

  He didn’t look back. He’d wasted enough time and breath on Jeremy Covington.

  Eliot bounded the stairs three at a time-just like he was racing Fiona at home-until he emerged at the top of the jungle gym.

  Wind whipped his face. There were layers fog and cloud, and far overhead, crows circled and cawed. Eliot saw the entire campus, and beyond, all the way to Pacific Heights and the bay.

  Robert, Mitch, and Amanda yelled to him and waved.

  Eliot snapped out of it and sprinted for the flag.

  It seemed like he ran forever. . never quite making it to his goal. . never getting closer. . like some nightmare. Then his hands brushed the black silk.

  Far away on the ground was a gunshot: Mr. Ma’s signal to end the match.

  Mitch clapped him on the back. “Well done! You won it for us, Eliot.”

  Amanda gave him a hug, blushed, and withdrew.

  Robert nodded to Eliot. His eyes, however, warily locked on Jeremy as he climbed the last of the stairs and joined them.

  Jeremy smiled like nothing had happened. “Excellent,” he said, and then added softer, “Sorry we got bunched up back there. No hard feelings, eh?”

  “Sure,” Eliot said with a smug shrug.

  “As long as we won,” Jeremy murmured, “what does it matter.”

  Eliot didn’t need any Infernal senses to weigh Jeremy’s sincerity. It did matter. There was something driving Jeremy far beyond healthy competitiveness.

  This wasn’t over between them. Not by a long shot.

  Eliot glanced down through the jungle gym. His heart ached, hoping Jezebel was okay.

  If he could have, he would gladly have taken her place-fought Van Wyck and the others-knowing he’d lose. It’d be worth it to spare her.

  He could almost hear Jezebel telling him he was a “fool” for such thoughts.

  But Eliot couldn’t help it. The only reason he’d come up here was to stop the match by winning it. To keep her safe.

  She mattered to him. . more than any stupid gym match. . even more than Paxington.

  32. BOY TROUBLE

  Fiona sat on the edge of her seat. This was the most fascinating stuff in the world. . no, that wasn’t right; it was the most fascinating stuff out of this world.

  Miss Westin had finished her lectures on the magical families yesterday, and today had moved on to a new topic in Mythology 101. On the blackboards of Plato’s Hall were maps of the Purgatories, the Borderlands, and more places that she called the “Middle Realms” between Earth and the end of places known.

  Fiona had always wanted to travel, and last summer she had seen Greece and the Bahamas. She’d even been in Paris.

  These places were different, however. What would it be like to go to wander among the Lost Floating Gardens of Babylon? Snorkel among the ruins of Atlantis? Or find the Temple of the Fountain of Youth? Or glimpse dread R’lyeh?

  Or maybe not. Her enthusiasm was tempered by her recent visit to the Valley of the New Year, where she’d almost gotten stuck forever. And her visit to the Borderlands near the Blasted Kingdom of Hell-that was a place she could do without ever seeing again.

  “Travel to the Middle Realms is perilous for mortals,” Miss Westin lectured. “Humans were not meant to exist there. An analogy would be deep-sea diving or a journey to the moon. These things are possible, but complicated. . and if mistakes are made, lethal.”

  Fiona struggled to keep up, take quick notes while she tried to copy the map of the Butterfly Vales of the Fairylands.

  She imagined herself there, splashing her toes in Gabriel’s Wishing Well and exploring the Cavern of Floating Lights that connected their world to hers-places just on the edge of imagination that beckoned.

  “Some realms,” Miss Westin said, indicating the map, “are mere legend. For example, the Fairylands or the Land of Gray and Gold has never been visited by any human. . or if they have, they have not returned.”

  Fiona frowned at this and made a note.

  Miss Westin pulled down a new blackboard covered with mountains among a Milky Way’s worth of stars. “Others, such as Heaven, seen here as portrayed by Dante Alighieri’s first crude map in his Paradiso-have not been visited by mortals since the fourteenth century, and may be forever closed to two-way, living travelers.”

  Eliot sat next to Fiona in the dark classroom, head propped lazily in his hands. He wasn’t taking notes. He wasn’t even paying attention.

  Fiona didn’t understand him. Just last week, he’d been fascinated with stupid Hell.

  Ever since their last match, he’d been moping around. He’d won the match for Team Scarab! What more did he want?

  Okay, so that match hadn’t been all roses and sunshine. Gym was tough. Fiona was horrified at the carnage and mayhem. They’d all gotten cut and bruised. Sarah had a few busted ribs. Donald van Wyck and two other Team Wolf members had torn kneecaps and dislocations.

  But Team Scarab’s record was now one win, one loss-50 percent, which placed them far from the bottom of the freshman team ranks. A few teams had two losses and might not graduate to their second year.

  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that. . for a while.

  Just as important to Fiona, her plan had worked. She shouldn’t feel good about it; it was really Eliot and a lot of luck that got them the win, but she couldn’t help it. Her teammates had followed her strategy. Maybe she could lead them.

  “Today I end with a question,” Miss Westin said. “One that we may never find an adequate answer for, but is nonetheless worth pondering.” She pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. “If so dangerous, why travel the Middle Realms at all? Why have so many tried and failed, so many tried and died, but we are all still drawn to these most exotic of places? Why. . when it is not only life and limb in peril, but one’s very soul?”

  Fiona thought the answer was obvious.

  What was the point of any travel? The thrill of finding someplace no one had ever been before. You could learn new things and meet new people. Maybe someone could start some trade between realms.

  But that remark about peril to one’s soul bothered Fiona.

  What if she had never escaped the Valley of the New Year? Would she have gone crazy with its never-quite-done New Year’s Party? Forever stuck in Purgatory with Jeremy Covington? Ugh. She shuddered.

  And how did this all fit with Mr. Welmann’s claim that even the dead didn’t stay in those places forever? Where did they all go?

  “I’ll expect an essay on this,” Miss Westin told them. “Two thousand words by Friday. You are dismissed.”

  The gaslights in the room warmed and the students filed out. Fiona packed up her notes.

  Eliot grabbed his books and bolted out like he’d been a caged animal.

  “Hey, wait!” she called after him, but he ignored her and was out the door.

  Fiona finished packing and pushed her way outside.

  She didn’t see Eliot. .
but Fiona did see Amanda, Sarah, and Jezebel standing together by the Picasso Arch.

  Sarah beckoned her over.

  Fiona approached, her eyes on Jezebel. The Infernal had fallen three stories off the jungle gym and walked away without a scratch. . well, other than a torn uniform and deep lacerations on her shoulder (and those she claimed had been from her clan’s war in Hell).

  Was being invulnerable to cuts and broken bones an Infernal thing? Fiona might have inherited some of that from her father-her blood pounded and pulsed as she remembered how she had been tossed twenty feet through the air by Beelzebub, hit a car headfirst, and had been able to shrug off her injuries.

  She calmed herself. She didn’t like being able to get angry so easily. It felt powerful, but she gave up too much control.

  “What’s going on?” Fiona asked.

  “We need your opinion, my dear,” Sarah said with a mischievous grin. “Perhaps you can settle a difference of opinion.”

  Fiona drifted closer. What dire circumstance could gather together these three who had absolutely nothing in common? It had to be trouble.

  “We were just trying to figure out,” Amanda whispered, and fidgeted as if saying this was painful, “which boy on our team is the cutest.”

  Fiona crinkled her nose.

  They had to be kidding. Here they were, learning about dozens of new worlds, every kind of magic known, and the secret history that had shaped the entire modern world. . and they were worried about boys?

  “Well, you can forget Eliot,” Sarah remarked. “Obviously.”

  “Why?” Amanda asked, her dark eyes smoldering. “I think he’s nice. Cute, even.”

  Someone thought Eliot was cute? Fiona might have believed dorky or clueless. . but cute? She wasn’t sure what was more shocking: hearing this. . or hearing it from Amanda. She sure had come out of her shell since that shopping trip to Paris.

  “If you like a puppy dog that trips over its own paws,” Jezebel remarked. “Perhaps when he grows up. . No, for pure aesthetics, I have to stick with Jeremy.”

  Sarah tilted her head appreciatively. “But for attitude and old-fashioned chivalry,” she said, “I’d take Robert Farmington. There’s something about him so deliciously rugged. Wouldn’t you agree, Fiona?”

  Fiona opened her mouth, but found herself unable to speak. With Sarah’s perfectly styled red hair and her oh-so-cute freckled peaches-and-cream features. . she was so not Robert’s type. But while Fiona knew Robert could outdrive and outfight any boy on campus, when it came to Sarah, would he be able to recognize that she was a viper in disguise?

  Sarah’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh, I didn’t know, dearie. Are you and he-?”

  Fiona blushed, both embarrassed and angry-fought to control it-which only made it worse.

  After an awkward moment, Fiona whispered, “Last summer there was something. But it’s over now.”

  The three girls exchanged looks of curiosity, disbelief, and envy.

  Fiona didn’t want to talk anymore. This entire conversation was disgusting.

  But she couldn’t just walk away. It would seem like she was running away because Sarah had asked her about Robert, so she added, “Mitch gets my vote. Everytime he smiles, I don’t know, it makes me happy.”

  Jezebel scoffed. “A man’s smile is like a dog wagging its tail-before it bites.”

  “No.” Sarah held up a finger. “I have to agree with Fiona. I’ve seen that smile-devilishly charming, it is. Mitch is handsome. Oh, perhaps in need of a haircut and a bit of grooming, but a fine specimen nonetheless.”

  “Eliot still gets my vote,” Amanda muttered, now looking at her feet. “He’s so. . deep, you know?”

  Jezebel nodded across the courtyard. “Speaking of our young Master Post. It looks like he is deep. In trouble.”

  A crowd of students had gathered around the Contemplation Pool of the Faun, a koi pond with bronze statues of fauns and satyrs and enchanted mushrooms.

  Fiona spotted Eliot there-face-to-face with Donald van Wyck.

  Donald still had his left arm in a sling from their last gym match. That didn’t stop him from shoving Eliot.

  “Oh no.” Fiona marched toward them.

  Jezebel, Sarah, and Amanda trotted behind her.

  Fiona hoped Eliot wasn’t stupid enough to get baited into a duel.

  But Fiona caught the look in Eliot’s eyes-pure hatred-and she knew there’d be a fight.

  Another boy from Team Wolf, however, the dangerous short one with a scar on his face, joined Van Wyck and they both faced Eliot.

  Fiona was too far away to stop whatever was about to happen.

  But Robert wasn’t. He appeared from the crowd and stepped next to Eliot. He dropped his pack and halted the approaching boys with his no-nonsense glare.

  “Two on two, then?” Van Wyck laughed.

  “Why not?” Robert said, flexed his fist, and popped his knuckles.

  But the other six from Team Wolf then appeared behind Van Wyck, making sure Robert and Eliot stayed outnumbered.

  Fiona and the girls finally got to them.

  Donald Van Wyck looked them over, swallowing at the sight of Jezebel. “So you need your girlfriends to help you out?” he asked.

  Fiona stepped up before either Eliot or Robert could answer. “No one’s doing anything,” she told him. “You can’t make anyone fight on campus. Duels are by mutual consent.”

  Van Wyck snorted. “So they are. Fine, we don’t settle this here. It’s a short walk to the gate. We’ll wait outside for you. . where there are no rules about stopping at first blood.” A smile spread over his thin, pale lips.

  Fiona went cold.

  He was threatening her, her brother. . everyone on their team. Could he get away with that?

  She knew people like Donald van Wyck; they always got away with things like this.

  Unless she did something to stop him. Now.

  Fiona took a step back and peeled off her jacket. She no longer felt cold. Her blood was hot and pounded through every cell. “Fine,” she said. “You have to fight? You fight me then.”

  “I don’t think so,” Robert said, looking just as mad.

  “Yes,” Fiona told him. “You voted me Team Captain. Well this is a team decision.”

  “Let her fight,” Jezebel told Robert, looking pleased at the potential for violence. “I shall be her second.”

  The glee on Van Wyck’s face drained at this. He glanced at his team, and they nodded back. “Okay,” he said. “Suits me. A Captains’ Duel.”[31]

  Robert gritted his teeth, but said nothing more.

  Eliot stood by Robert, looking ready to kill. . either Van Wyck or her, Fiona wasn’t sure.

  She’d intervened in his behalf to save him, but Fiona also knew that Eliot probably resented it, thinking he was “man” enough to handle this himself.

  Sure, he could have handled it.

  To win against Van Wyck and his wolf pack, though, Eliot would use his music. And if he pulled Lady Dawn out and played it on campus-Fiona was sure something bad would happen as it had at Groom Lake. . something that would have ended with more than first blood. People might get killed.

  This fight required force, but the right amount of it. It had to be swift and decisive, but more than anything, controlled. First blood, that’s all.

  One cut.

  A girl from Team Wolf opened a case and handed Van Wyck the gilded rapier within. It glistened needle sharp.

  Fiona unzipped her book bag. She undid the clasp on her bracelet and dropped it inside. She didn’t want to use the chain. It cut too easily-almost like it wanted blood.

  She touched the rubber band on her wrist and shuddered, recalling how she had used it to slice Perry Millhouse in half. That wouldn’t do, either.

  Fiona spotted something round and wooden at the bottom of her pack: a yo-yo.

  Uncle Aaron had made a gift of it last summer. It was the first weapon she’d ever used in a fight; its string had taught her how t
o cut.

  That would do.

  She looped the yo-yo’s string about her middle finger and faced her opponent.

  Several students laughed.

  Van Wyck looked at her and blinked. “Are you kidding?”

  Fiona flicked the yo-yo. It ran down the string and twanged-for a split second she felt the urge to cut run though her and along its taut length. The air pulsed with raw energy.

  That shut them all up.

  “Try me,” she whispered.

  All mirth vanished from Van Wyck’s face. He slashed his rapier back and forth-and attacked.

  33. THREE WORDS THAT CHANGED HER LIFE

  Van Wyck struck at her.

  It was a crude attack; Fiona easily sidestepped. She’d sparred with her uncle Aaron, the supposed God of War, Ares. Van Wyck was no master swordsman.

  Almost too quick to follow, however, he angled his rapier up and it plunged straight at her heart.

  Her last step had left her flat-footed, off balance.

  Fiona twisted awkwardly aside.

  The tip of the rapier grazed her jacket, neatly puncturing the heavy wool. Van Wyck ripped it free.

  Too close. Fiona wouldn’t underestimate him again.

  Sure this was to first blood. . and if his one and only “first blood” wound pierced her heart, it might be okay as far as the rules covering Paxington freshman duels were concerned. . but Fiona would be dead.

  A smiled flickered over his face.

  He was toying with her. Enjoying this.

  Well, Fiona wasn’t about to let him play a lengthy game of cat and mouse.

  She flicked out her yo-yo.

  The smirk on his face vanished when he saw how fast it came at his head. He parried the wooden disk expertly. . with the precise minimal deflection require so his rapier still pointed at her. This made the yo-yo’s string slide alongside his blade.

  As Fiona had hoped.

  She yanked the yo-yo. The string caught and wrapped about the blade at the guard.

  Fiona focused her mind along the string’s length; it narrowed, almost vanished to a one-dimensional edge that left a wake in the air-as the string cut through the steel blade.

  The students around them gasped.