I clasped both of her hands in mine. “It’s not the rings I’m worried about.”
A faint smile crossed her lips, and even though the face was different, there was a feel to that smile that was uniquely Sydney. “I’ll be fine . . . but I want you to hold on to these for me until I get back.”
“Deal,” I said in a low voice that only she could hear, “but I get to put them back on you.”
“Okay,” she said.
“On my knees,” I added.
“Okay.”
“And we both have to be nake—”
“Adrian,” she said warningly.
“We’ll discuss the terms later,” I said with a wink. But I felt a pang in my heart as I squeezed the rings and let go of her hands, hating the danger she was about to walk into. Her appearance might be different, but her aura shone to me like no one else’s—so brave, despite the dangers ahead. I wanted so badly to go with her but knew there was nothing I could do there. My biggest help would be with Alicia when the witches unfroze her.
“We should grab something to eat and then hit the road,” Sabrina said.
“Hope you like Oreos and cheese puffs,” Eddie told her.
We ate a bizarre meal of junk food while Sabrina elaborated on a few more things for us. “We’re going to Calexico, down by the border,” she said. “But you’re not supposed to know that. We have to keep up appearances. Once we go in, we’ll probably be separated, but I’ll be around. They’ll also let me keep my phone, so I can send messages to Marcus.”
“And you’ll then update me, right?” I said.
Marcus gave me a tight smile. “Right. Don’t worry. Sabrina will look after them.”
It was a hollow reassurance, since we all knew things could go very, very badly at the Warriors’ place and that Sabrina would probably be able to do very little. In her usual way, Sydney was more concerned about me as they were leaving. “Be careful, Adrian. I want to find Jill too but not at the cost of losing you.”
“It’ll be remedial compulsion,” I assured her. “You’re the one walking into a hornet’s nest.”
“This is what we do,” she said simply. “You have your job. I have mine.” She stood on her tiptoes to give me a light kiss on the cheek. No way was I settling for that. With a quick maneuver, I swept her into my arms and gave her a long, deep kiss goodbye, not caring about the witnesses. When she finally pulled back, that new face was blushing in a very Sydney way, but she stayed in my arms.
“I can’t say I didn’t expect that,” she admitted.
“This is it,” I told her. “We’re on the verge of getting Jill back. Once we get that, we’ll secure our freedom and finally get that happily ever after.”
How exactly are you going to manage that? demanded Aunt Tatiana. Living back at Court? With those Keepers in Michigan?
I had a feeling Sydney was full of the same questions, but she didn’t speak any of them aloud. Instead, her face showed only love and hope as she gave me another parting kiss. The next thing I knew, Sabrina was ushering them out to her car to begin this bizarre adventure. I stood with Marcus in the doorway, gazing off into the night, even after they were gone.
“I hope this is a good plan,” I said to him, my heart aching.
Marcus sighed, and for once, his usual optimistic expression looked weary. It must be hard constantly convincing people that every risky thing he came up with would pay off.
“Good doesn’t enter into it,” he admitted. “It’s the only plan we’ve got.”
CHAPTER 15
SYDNEY
CALEXICO WAS A LITTLE LESS THAN TWO HOURS AWAY, which made for a long and strange journey. When we were halfway there, Sabrina stopped to blindfold us, per Warrior protocol. For the rest of the trip, she repeated information we’d already memorized, information that we could never get enough of as we braced ourselves for this strange endeavor. I managed to hold on to that Zen state, focusing solely on Jill and my purpose here, remaining empty of all emotion. I especially tried hard not to worry too much about Adrian. I knew if I did, I’d falter. Instead, I took in Sabrina’s advice and insight, meshing it with what I knew I had to do. I felt oddly cool and detached.
Then we reached the Warriors’ compound.
Sabrina warned us it was coming as the car slowed for the compound’s gate. I heard the window roll down. “Sabrina Woods,” she said, “bringing two potential recruits.”
“Two, huh?” a gravelly voice responded back, sounding more amused than concerned.
Sabrina herself remained perfectly calm. “I didn’t bring any last year. Making up for it, I guess.”
“Take ’em to the holding area,” came the response.
The window rolled up, and Sabrina slowly accelerated. A heavy exhalation of relief was the only sign that she was more nervous about this endeavor than she’d let on. I heard the tires crunching on gravel, and a minute later, the car came to a stop. She turned it off and opened her door. “Everyone out,” she said.
She guided us from the car toward the sound of people speaking. Here, at last, our blindfolds were removed. The desert landscape was scrubby and barren and contained a collection of ramshackle buildings. It kind of reminded me of Wolfe’s setup, except much more rundown. Two hulking guys with guns strapped to them were chatting amiably with each other in front of the door to a large building, though their faces hardened when they saw us approach. Sabrina repeated what she’d said at the gate, adding this time, “They’re brother and sister.”
One of the guys seemed to like this. “This is a family organization, after all.”
That wasn’t exactly what came to mind when I thought of the Warriors, but I gave him a smile I hoped came across as tough and cool. The guards patted us down, searching us for weapons or tracking equipment. Their examination was brisk and thankfully not lewd in any way. Eddie and I had made sure to leave our phones with Howie, and after finding nothing suspect, one of the guards waved us on through the door behind them. Sabrina started to follow, but a guard shook his head.
“They go on alone,” he said. “You go through the spectators’ door on the other side.”
Sabrina had warned us we’d eventually get separated, so I tried not to let my panic show as she gave us a casual farewell and wished us luck. Eddie and I stepped through the doorway, which led us into an open, dusty arena not unlike where I’d been when the Warriors were holding Sonya. It looked as though it was originally intended for baseball or soccer, but something told me that wouldn’t be happening today.
A few dozen other people lingered in the arena. Some were in groups, some were pointedly solo and eyeing everyone else as potential enemies. Some looked like ordinary people you’d run into at the mall. Others practically had “Yes, I want to join a fanatical vampire-hating group” stamped across their foreheads. All of them were around our age, give or take a few years. The gender split was almost even, slightly favoring guys. Out in the stands, other people were beginning to filter in and take seats. I caught sight of Sabrina and gave her a quick nod before turning my attention back to Eddie.
“She said things start at sunrise,” I told him. To the east, the sky was a burning orange, and the rest of it carried a light purple hue. “Technically, we’re already there.”
“Your guess is as good as mine as to how this’ll unfold,” he said, his sharp dhampir eyes scanning rapidly around as he spoke. Even in casual situations, his natural tendency was to watch for threats. In a high-stakes situation like this, he was constantly on edge.
“I just hope we’re able to—”
My words were cut off by the sound of a trumpet. We all turned in its direction and saw three men wearing yellow robes and golden helmets. I stiffened, earning a quick look of concern from Eddie.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”
“I know two of them.
Master Angeletti and Master Ortega. They were at the last gathering.”
“Remember, they can’t recognize you.”
I nodded, but seeing those familiar faces set me on edge. I expected at any moment one of them would point in my direction and declare me an enemy, sending all of these wannabe recruits my way.
But the two masters paid me no more attention than they did any of the other recruits. When the third man—the trumpeter—stopped playing, Master Angeletti spoke, his voice still deep and his gray beard still scraggly. “Do you see that?” he asked, raising his hands toward the rising sun. “That is why we are here, what gives us all life. The sun. The light. We were born to the light, born to goodness. It reminds me of one of my favorite psalms:
Humans are born into the light
Shining good, shining bright
Only evil thrives at night
Let us banish them from our sight.
I nearly choked with laughter, hearing poetry I probably could’ve written when I was ten years old. But Master Angeletti’s face was full of rapture as he spoke, and the other Warriors nodded along approvingly, like he was quoting one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
“That is the natural way of things,” Master Angeletti told us. “Those who thrive in darkness are not part of the divine plan. They are evil and unnatural, and it is the job of our army to eliminate them and save mankind.”
Beside him, Master Ortega took a turn. “All of you are here because you have shown interest in eradicating that darkness and because your sponsors think you may be worthy to join us. But make no mistake: We will be the ones to decide who truly deserves to serve among us. It will not be easy. You will be tested and scrutinized, your very soul examined. If any of you are afraid or know you won’t have the stamina to face what’s to come, I invite you to leave now.”
Silence fell as he looked around expectantly. A few of the other recruits shifted their stances, but no one made any motions to leave.
“Very well then,” boomed Master Ortega. “Let the trials begin!”
If I’d ever wondered about the fundamental difference between the Alchemists and the Warriors, I soon had my answer. Whatever their flaws, the Alchemists were almost always adherents of the think-first-act-later mindset. The Warriors? Not so much.
Once the opening formalities were out of the way, Master Ortega handed things over to the recruiting director—who, to my complete astonishment, turned out to be Chris Juarez: Trey’s cousin. I hadn’t seen him since the Warriors had held Sonya, and Trey didn’t really talk much about his family after they’d disowned him. Trey had humiliated them by dating a dhampir. Chris had apparently walked the straight and narrow, earning this esteemed position. He strutted out in front of us now, dressed simply in jeans and a muscle shirt that showed off his well-built physique.
“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t interested in ridding the world of evil,” he told us. “And we’ll eventually determine just how interested you are. But before we get to that, we need to see if you can hold your own if it comes down to facing that evil. Are you afraid of pain? Are you afraid of getting dirty? Are you afraid of doing whatever it takes to keep humanity in the light?” His volume grew louder with each shouted question, stirring spectators and recruits alike into a frenzy. Some of the people standing near Eddie and me shouted back answers. One guy simply let out a primal battle scream that earned cheers from those in the stand. Me, I mostly tried to show excitement and interest, as opposed to the actual shock and disgust I felt.
While Chris had been speaking, other Warriors had been setting up the arena with an odd assortment of items: wooden boxes, tin cans, buckets, cinder blocks. I wondered if there was some sort of obstacle course in the works. When they finished that task, they came out to all the recruits and gave us each a wooden heart attached to a cord. My assumed name—Fiona Gray—was written on it. Eddie, going by Fred Gray, also received one.
“This represents your heart—your life,” said Chris. “Right now we need to know who wants this the most—who’s willing to do whatever it takes to be the victor. Ladies, please step aside and take seats over there.” He pointed to a section of the stands. “You guys, go find spots wherever you want.”
I met Eddie’s eyes briefly as we turned to each other before parting. “Good luck,” I said.
“No luck needed with this lot,” he replied.
I smiled at that and sat down beside a surly looking girl who was about a head taller than me and nearly as muscled as Chris. There were about thirty male recruits, and they scattered throughout the arena, taking positions they thought would be most strategic. Some stood on the crates, some staked out items that looked like they could be made into weapons—like the cinder blocks. Eddie based his position on those of the other combatants, selecting a place that gave him space and a good vantage.
“For the next hour,” Chris announced, “your goal is to collect as many of your opponents’ hearts as possible, by any means necessary. Everything in this arena is fair game. Any tactic is fair game—though we do ask that you try not to kill anyone. The six competitors with the most hearts at the end of the hour will advance. If at any time you feel incapable of going on, simply retreat over to that bench”—he pointed at another section of the stands, where a man in a red hat stood—“and place both palms down. That will release you from the challenge, and Bart will give you any first aid needed.”
Bart, in a plaid shirt and ripped-up jeans, didn’t strike me as someone who’d had any official medical training, but maybe appearances were deceiving.
My stomach was in knots as Chris asked if there were any questions and checked to make sure everyone was ready. Sabrina had warned us there’d be some sort of physical competition, but she hadn’t known the specifics. They changed year to year so that no sponsor could warn their recruits in advance. Apparently, the Warriors wanted things to stay fair, which seemed ironic considering the drugged and worn-down state they’d had Sonya in before bringing her to an attempted execution.
Chris held up his hand to mark the start, and a tense silence filled the air. Eddie leaned forward, squarely in his zone, eyes sharp and body ready. “Begin!” yelled Chris, bringing his hand down.
What followed next was chaos.
The guys fell on each other like a pack of dogs fighting for a scrap of meat. Some went for full-on bodily contact, attempting to throw each other to the ground and steal hearts. Other competitors took a more savage approach, hurling cinder blocks and wielding other debris as weapons. Most of my attention stayed on Eddie, who took a calmer approach and waited for people to come after him. His strength wasn’t initially obvious, and many thought he’d be easy prey. Their mistaken beliefs were soon corrected as he dispatched one attacker after another, knocking them out with precision punches and kicks—then collecting their hearts afterward. Losing your heart didn’t mean you were out of the competition. If you could recover your heart—or simply have a majority at the end of the hour—it was all good. Some of those Eddie took hearts from attempted recovery. Others moved on to seemingly easier foes.
My real heart—the one in my chest—thudded as I watched Eddie. I needed him to stay in the competition. I needed us both to. So far, there didn’t seem to be any cause to worry. He was clearly faster and stronger than most people out there, plus he had the seasoning and experience to make use of his gifts. Others, though strong, had no real skills and simply relied on brute force—which proved effective in some cases. I saw one guy slam a wooden plank into another’s knee, causing the victim to crumple in pain and scream as he fell. His attacker snatched away the victory heart, ignoring his opponent’s pleas for help in getting to Bart and first aid. Eddie happened to be passing by at the time and paused to help the fallen guy get to the bench.
Another guy—the one who’d let out the earlier primal scream—was also making pretty short work of his competition. His muscles bulged grotesquely
, making me wonder if he took steroids or simply lived in a gym. He apparently had some fans in the audience, because they shouted his name each time he captured a heart. “Caleb! Caleb! Go, Caleb!”
Caleb flashed a malicious grin at his fans as he stormed through the arena, looking for new prey. Although his own strength was powerful unaided, he still sometimes utilized a cinder block as an asset. I wasn’t alone in gasping when he slammed it into some guy’s head, instantly knocking the guy to the ground. Caleb swept up the three hearts his victim wore and went on his way. Bart himself came out to drag the fallen back to the safety of the stands, and I didn’t really start breathing again until I saw the poor guy limply move an arm.
Two other guys had arrived together, like Eddie and me, and were teaming up to take out foes and split the hearts between them. It was a smart strategy, and I wished Eddie and I could’ve utilized it. The Warriors had some outdated hang-ups about men and women, and although there were female competitors, Sabrina had explained that girls in the Warriors were often kept out of the line of danger and relegated to milder roles. I wasn’t sure if I should applaud the Warriors for showing some sign of consideration or be offended that they didn’t think women could keep up with men in bloodthirsty brutality.
As the hour wound down, about half of the competitors were gone from the fray, off getting whatever medical attention Bart could administer. A few guys were clearly dominant: notably Eddie, Caleb, and the twosome. Those remaining were trying to pick off each other or go after one of the leaders. Chris shouted a five-minute warning, and one guy, desperately realizing he was nearly out of the running, made a frantic charge at Caleb in the hopes of securing a massive stash of hearts. Caleb knocked him away like he was a fly, then kicked him when he was down on the ground, despite the guy’s pleas to stop. “Just take them! Just take them!” The guy on the ground frantically tried to pull the hearts off his head and hand them over while Caleb just kept kicking. The nausea in my stomach reared up again until Caleb finally left the guy in peace. He stalked off, his gaze falling on Eddie, but thankfully, Chris called time just then. Everyone leaned forward, eager to find out the results.