Grandmère brutally slaps me. Her lips sneer, and the muscles in her thin arms become rock hard and bulging. “Keep your guard up, dear.”
Using my power, I push Demetri harder. His head bobs like I’ve punched him again. But this time, crimson streams run from his eyes and nose.
Oh, God. I didn’t really want to hurt him.
A smile curls on his lips. “She did it, Gran! I can’t control her!”
The elevator dings again. I bob and weave to escape getting burned by the bombs flung at my skull by Grandmère and this thing that looks like Grace. My mom comes out of the elevator in gray sweats.Thank God! She’ll help me.
Weapons dislodge from the black wall under the barred window to the right of me. They arc and fly close, as Mom’s telekinetic mind hurls arrows and blades at me. My dodges are more desperation than skill, as I flop to the right and jerk to the left. A dagger whizzes by my cheek. I roll my head to the right in time to avoid being sliced.
Is she serious?
Mom flinches. Her teary eyes lock on me. She grips her chest like she’s being cut open by the pain of doing this. Or from the agony of seeing me being attacked by her mother and her dead child.
I know my mom would never hurt me. She wants me to learn to defend myself better. But seeing her here scrapes me raw.
“Use your power!” Mom shouts.
“Wish them to stop!” yells Demetri. “Kick them out! Dosomething!”
“She can’t,” Grandmère grumbles.
My dead sister punches me, and it’s like a baseball bat to the belly.
I spit out blood. A light bomb soars from her open palm. It hits me, making me fall and twitch. My mouth opens in a silent scream as pain claws at my guts.
Grace’s double stands over me. A fog of midnight smoke surrounds her body. The haze hisses and coils with crackling bolts of silver lightning. Inside the dark cloud, the doppelgänger’s silhouette doubles over. Gasping. There’s an audible snap as bones crack and shift. A sharp cry slices the air as the haze thins, her flesh moving and contracting. Grace’s double shrinks before my eyes, bubbling and bending in the fog until the form of a dark-skinned, red-eyed woman is hunching and panting in her place inside the ring.
The smoke vanishes, and she pushes herself up to stand. Wobbling on unsteady feet, she lets out a screech. My eyes widen as I realize it’s one of the bodyguards that always protects the entrance of our home. She pats her afro with thin dark fingers and says, “The magic wore off, Miss Clair. But I could have killed Emma at least four times if I’d really wanted to. She’ll never survive the Tether.”
I knew my sister had never been here. Grace is dead, and she wouldneverhurt me. I want to shriek from the agony of seeing this woman pretend to be her. But I refuse to give Grandmère the satisfaction.
So I bite my lip, hating my teardrops as I choke on the hurt, and I vow to prove I’m capable. I’ll survive. Somehow. But it’s hard to feel like a winner when you’re sprawled out on the floor of a sparring ring and the world is convinced you’re a loser.
I hear my grandmother say, “Sheree is the best fighter out of all my bodyguards. Be thankful that she cared enough to help train you.”
Suddenly there’s pressure, like a witch’s red claws digging into my brain. I feel a jolt, a magical punch to my power. It tosses my head back and makes my nose bleed faster. I puff, twisting and sobbing on the mat.
“You okay, sis?” Demetri asks.
If he’s asking, it can’t be him doing this.
“Em?” he says. “You okay?”
I’m too wounded to respond. Is it Mom? She has tears streaking her cheeks, but she stands still as a statue. Is she smashing my brain telepathically? Searing pain curves through my body. I wipe the blood off my nose with the back of my hand. It bleeds more. My head pulses with red-hot agony, and even the spongy flesh behind my eye hurts.
“Fight back!” Mom screams. “Please!” She weeps.
As I lie in my own blood and humiliation, a satisfied smile curls on Gran’s lips. “As I said… you needed to be humbled. This, naughty bird, is why you can’t afford to miss practice. It will take a lot of lessons for you to learn how to fight well enough to survive the Tether.”
CHAPTER NINEMalcolm DavenportPHILADELPHIA, 2024
Moonlight oozes down on me as I step forward, looking at the brick walls of the alley. My mind keeps circling back to Emma’s bravery, her defiant eyes. Can eyes that pretty be trusted? Will she really go through with our plan and meet me in two days? Ma-a-an, meeting Emma is all I’ve been thinking about. Walls blur, and my mind starts feeling fuzzy. Must be the drink Ma spelled for me. She said I’d be faster and stronger if I drank it. Said it could help protect me in the Tether. But it makes my vision wobbly instead, cloudy at the edges.
Mist veils the alley, carrying the smell of cinnamon.Magic.Electric nerves flicker down my back. My feet slow. I look at the shadows for threats. The chipped bricks of the alley walls are decorated with tiny white fairy lights, barely illuminating the space. A shadow moves in the distance, creeping out from behind a big dumpster and slinking through the steam rising from a sewer-hole cover. The silhouette approaches, low and on all fours.
A black lion.
