Despite my reservations, I comply, knowing that if I fail at stopping this Tether, I may be forced to fight for survival in it. But, to my surprise, Grandmère joins me inside the ring.
A ball of white moonlight explodes from her palm.
WHAM!
It catches me in the face. The power of the blow rocks my body. My vision goes black, but there are small bursts of light, like I’m seeing stars.
I’m standing on spaghetti legs.
“Holy crap!” I shout. “You didn’t warn me!” Heavy bags, speed bags, and martial arts equipment blur around me.
Grandmère’s grin smears in my fuzzy vision. “Baldwins can’t let their guard down, Emma. Foes will attack at the least-expected moments and from a direction you’ll never predict. To survive, you must be vigilant.”
I know my grandmother thinks she’s helping me in her weird, “tough love” way, so I scan the room in case she’s hinting at nearby threats. Past the heavy bags, Martin Luther King Jr.’s face smiles in a frame. Is he amused, watching me get beat up by an old lady? Demetri looks like he’s about to explode with terror or laughter as my grandmother stretches her wrinkled body into a roundhouse kick. I attempt to dodge.
SMASH!
The force of the blow bends me in half anyway. Her attack is cold, a vicious punch to the gut, but her eyes look concerned. “Little bird, you’ll die if you don’t learn to fight back.” She gives me an encouraging look. With a wave of her fingers, a bright beam of moonlight twists and arches its way from the window to the elevator. The doors slide open with a ding.
My knees are weak. I blink misty eyes and try to steady myself. I do a double take when I see a girl step out of the elevator. My mouth hangs wide. I cover a pain that pierces through my chest with my palm.
She has midnight skin and blinks beautiful sloping eyes. But her eyes are different now: Once rich brown and beautiful, they are static silver today. She smiles with dimples like Demetri’s, but her dimples are off too. They are a bit too deep and too close to her lips.
My heart screams, “It’s Grace!”
But it isn’t.
Grace is dead.
My eyes moisten. My sister—or this thing that looks like her—walks closer.
“Gran!” Demetri cries out. “How could you!” A tear rolls down the side of his nose as he gapes at our dead sister. He, too, knows it’s an illusion, some cruel trick used in a misguided attempt to make me stronger.
“How could I not!” Grandmère dances on her feet like a boxer, her fists high, ready. “Do you think our enemies won’t use your heart, your weakness, even your grief and fear, against you? To survive, you must mask them. Fight through them.”
Pain stabs pieces of my heart. It’s my fault. Grace would be here if I hadn’t fallen…
“No, no no,” I mutter, staring at the girl’s braided hair and fierce gaze, my soul weeping.
I step back, blood boiling, but eyes locked on Grace.
“Focus, before you get your teeth knocked out,” my dead sister hisses.
But it’s not really her. This ruthless game is not only to teach me, but to punish me for sneaking off.
I sputter. “H-how? Did you?” I wanna ask my grandmother how she created this fake Grace, but I can’t find the words.
Grandmère laughs.
I haven’t seen Grace in so long. I wanna run out of this ring and hug her tight. There’s a flutter. No, something wheels and zooms in at the edge of my vision.
BAM!
Grandmère’s fist is raised. Her silver bob flops over a smiling face as she dances across from me. “Stay on guard.”
The metallic taste of blood bursts in my mouth. I feel a slim cut on the inside of my lip. “What is wrong with you?” I yell. I lift my fist up to guard my face and run my tongue across the inside of my teeth to be sure they’re all still in place after she punched me. Bleeding and furious, I charge Grandmère.
Grace appears on my right in a blink. She wears a sleek leather catsuit with tiny chains across the chest. Bombs of starlight explode from her palms. I dive onto the mat to avoid being burned. She misses me, but a circle on the mat right by my head is charred by her light. I reach up to yank her ankle. She jolts away, and I miss.
