Chapter Five #3
I’m losing, my fire streaming away. I’m going to lose everything. This duel, the Archive, my dad, my life—
No. I’m not a wound. I am fire.
Rob wants my nav? Let’s see how he handles it.
I do what I planned to do before Rob’s knives panicked me. I blast him with all my nav at once, an excess, burning.
He shrieks as his blades melt.
I keep blasting until he’s a molten metal pool, formless, beyond resistance.
Then I take what I want.
Futures dance above me. Flush with siphoned power, I see them twice as clear and bright and close as I would on my own. And in every one, I draw cards. I do.
Back in the real, Rob has fallen to his knees. He’s bitten through his lip. He pats frantically at his mouth.
I turn to Mr. Ortega. His thin, sensitive face has twisted.
“Cards?” I grit out.
He blinks. Then he hands me the deck.
I draw the ace through the queen.
***
I crush three senior transfers—Aria, Peyton, and Austin—and beat four other students I don’t know before stalemating a short, burly guy named Maddox. Dr. Ortega marks the results onto a whiteboard behind him and sends me back into line with a zero-loss record.
And thank God (or Dr. Langmore’s “element of randomness”) that I stalemated when I did.
After I take a chair, my legs shaky, my nose bleeding in fits and starts, Bree’s mentor, Antoine, eviscerates eight opponents, each in less than a minute.
No way I could have beaten him. When Antoine’s ninth duel—against Elena, a regal blond with feet in perpetual first position—passes the ten-minute mark, Dr. Ortega calls a stalemate and summons the next two students in line.
If I could persuade Antoine to join Candace and me, he’d be a killer recruit. But as soon as he returns to the line, a stylish person with an undercut slings their arm around his shoulders and calls the results to someone across the room. I’m guessing Antoine already has his trio.
As I glance around, my eyes catch on Vik. He stands in the center of Mr. Davis’s group, wiping a sweaty cheek against his shoulder, faded T-shirt sticking to his muscular chest. Reluctantly, I pull my stare from him to the whiteboard behind Mr. Davis, and—holy crap.
Vik’s on his twelfth duel, and he’s still going. He’s beaten every one of his challengers.
I’m goggling in (resentful) admiration, wondering how I can turn an ultra-talented yet deeply unhelpful peer mentor to my advantage, when Dr. Langmore calls: “Ninety minutes up. Return to your seats.”
I’m through. I passed the screening.
After all those duels, I’m exhausted. The room is pitching around me like a boat on rough water.
But even if I stumble back to my seat, I manage to walk there myself.
I ease onto my stool and look for Vik. Maybe he’s not my biggest fan, but he slayed at siphoning today.
If I ask him to join my team—okay, he’ll probably say no.
Unless…I offer to try this “leaguing” thing with him? Would that work?
He’s cutting across the room toward our table, head down, oblivious to the speculative glances kids are throwing him after his display of extreme competence. I wave for his attention.
Candace slides onto the stool beside mine. “Don’t bother.”
Griffin and Mirabel lope into Vik’s path. I can’t hear what they say to him, but I can read his lips: “Sure, yeah.”
“Vik’s lived with Griff since freshman year,” Candace says. “And he’s one of the Academy’s top navigators. Griff has naturally decided to scoop him before anyone else can.”
Damn. There goes my recruitment scheme.
“You make it?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
She nods. “Five wins, one stalemate, one loss. We’ll see where I rank.”
Dr. Langmore, Dr. Ortega, and Mr. Davis drag their whiteboards to the room’s center and confer.
Dr. Langmore raises her hands for silence.
“Twenty-three students have passed the screening. We’ll read their names alphabetically.
Once we’ve confirmed your entrance into the Archive trials, you have until class ends to choose your team. ”
The first name Dr. Langmore reads is Bree Allen. At the same time, Bree stumbles into our table looking destroyed. “Ouch,” she mutters, dropping onto a stool.
I stay silent until Dr. Langmore reads my name. It’s only then that my victory seems real.
You would think I’d feel better, less anxious, now that I’ve passed the screening. But I don’t. My zero-loss record is down to luck. Antoine would’ve slaughtered me. If I’d been counted into Vik’s group, Vik would’ve slaughtered me twice.
“Any luck finding a third?” I whisper to Candace.
She mimes turning out the pockets of her dress.
“Wait,” Bree says. “Are you guys talking about finding teammates?”
Candace blinks. “Yes. Why?”
A puzzled frown bends Bree’s mouth. “Daisy and I both had one-loss records, so she asked me to join her team. But I told her the three of us would team up if we all passed, ’cause we’re blockmates. Is that not true?”
Candace meets my eyes. Her expression says: Goddamn it.
I make a pleading face: We have a third. Isn’t that a good thing?
A sigh from Candace: You handle it, then.
“No, that’s definitely true,” I tell Bree. “Let’s do it.”