Chapter 42
My heart ballooned and thrashed in my ribcage.
For people who were chaotic criminals, they were marvellous at organising themselves.
At least a hundred Soulless stood outside on the streets, wearing their own blood and the blood of their prey, brandishing weapons and carnivorous grins.
Drones hovered overhead.
The clock ticked.
Twenty minutes until the Battle was over.
Enough time for an episode of a comedy show, for a good morning yoga stretch, for a hearty breakfast.
Instead of choosing any of the available alternatives in spending their last moments not locked away in a prison cell, the inmates had decided instead to focus on the demise of Dig Graves and myself.
The drone junkies were dressed in new garb: purple sequined dresses, their hair piled high with big bows. They put on a flashy song on their solar speaker and started up a dance routine, each move flawless. The beat was catchy, I tapped my foot.
Fiona’s traps had already been destroyed; the inmates began to head to the front door.
The four of us scrambled inside, pulling on clothing, snatching weapons, arming ourselves.
“You’ll run out the back with Tommy and Fiona.” Dig grabbed me and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll go out the front and fight them. It will be enough of a distraction for you to run away. Get somewhere safe. The Battle is almost over.”
I snatched his wrists, my heart pounding. Vomit threatened to rise. “And what about you? How will you fight them for the full twenty minutes alone and survive?”
He looked at me for a long moment, but I knew it was fleeting. Perhaps only a second in time, but to me it was eternity. I searched those dark eyes of his with foolish despair that he had another plan.
“It’s going to be okay.” He smiled at me.
It was not.
“I’ll be fine.”
He would not.
“We’ll see each other soon.”
We would not.
Oh, he was such a lovely liar. Those words of his I drank up like priceless honey and I lived the fairytale he spread out of me.
“Dig,” I breathed out his name. I hunched over a little from the ache in my heart. Whatever kind of fear this was, it was burdening. “I don’t want you to die.”
His smile was weak. There were doors shutting up inside of him, windows being locked. “I love you, Princess.”
No. Don’t leave me. Not like this. I had spent my life auditioning people to love me, and here was this man, this single soul who had sat patiently and waited for me.
“Come with us.” My nails dug so deep into his skin I pricked him with half-moons.
He started to bleed. “We will all run for twenty minutes, come with us.”
He kissed me hard. “Go!”
Fiona grabbed my arm and tugged me as Dig turned to the front door. He pulled on his glower and did not wear sunglasses. He wore his eyes with dignity, with pride, and snatched out his blades with a thirst as if he were about to rip earthquakes into the world.
Tommy, Fiona and I ran out the back door.
Behind us the thrill of shouts and metal clanging against metal made my heart hammer into an uneven rhythm. I squeezed my eyes, not wanting to cry, my feet were eager to turn back. I refused, running forward.
We jumped over fences, scaled backyards and dipped under windows, forcing ourselves to get as far away as possible.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I whined through the pain of it. I had never been so frightened.
“Come on!” Fiona pushed me. “We have to get out of here.”
I had not realised I had stopped. I hurled into the grass, my forehead pushing into the stems. I dug my fingers into my chest, trying to claw out the damn organ that was about to explode.
“Delphine!” Fiona urged me up, but I could not stand. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m having a bloody heart attack.” Tears dribbled from my eyes. My breathing chopped.
This was a very inconvenient time to be lying in the grass. My heart was punishing me for running. I needed to go back to Dig.
Fiona assisted me to standing but as she heaved me forward, I stepped back. It felt as if there were a string tied around my heart, the end of it leading from my chest and tethering back to where we had come.
I looked to the house smothered in other homes, my forehead lining.
I had never felt this before… this lovely mapping from my soul. In all my years I had listened to my heart, pressing my hand over it, counting the beats like a song. It had never sung the song I had wanted, and in that moment, the chorus of it sparked in my ears.
“Delphine!” Fiona jerked my arm to move. “We have to go.”
“You run.” I smiled and pushed her away. “I have to go this way.”
She ran to Tommy. I ran back.
My feet pounded into the earth, my heart thumped viciously, my breath was close to choking me as I blew and heaved through the ache in my chest.
Overhead the drones buzzed, singing their alarms over the arena. The countdown was on until the end of the Battle.
Ten.
I took my last steps on my near endless journey.
Nine.
One foot in front of another, again and again. I clasped my heart, swimming in the chaotic thumping, the exquisite pain.
Eight.
I walked with a smile, across the Execution Battle, past severed limbs and decapitated heads and pink plastic flamingo lawn ornaments and children’s swing sets.
Seven.
I walked and walked into the maw of serial killers and mass murderers as they slashed and sliced and kicked and punched the one man they had all come to kill. I had once thought he was a monster. When was a monster no longer a monster? When you love it, I think.
Six.
The drone junkies danced.
Five. Four.
Blood sprayed in the air.
Three.
In the centre of their circle of death, he fought with an intense fury, blood dripping down his arms and cheek, his dark hair waving like a banner, those eyes of his shimmering wild.
Two.
I pushed through the crowd, my heart guiding me to him and lunged for Dig Graves, falling into his arms.
He looked to me, breathless, panicked.
I looked to him.
One.
I crushed our chests together.