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“What about my dad?” I choke out, buying time. “Let him go.”
“Oh, honey, he will be depowered no matter what. I am only sparing him that grueling agony so that he may have all his senses to watch his precious daughter take her exam.”
Only the worst of all villains would consider a fight to the death an exam. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, stepping backward as Death approaches me with slow precise steps. “What are you trying to prove?”
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The fishbowl rises into the air, stopping at the halfway mark. The same spot the real examiners were when I took my first Hero exam. Aurora’s eyes have a reminiscing glaze over them. “I don’t have to prove anything, you little brat. I am avenging those innocent twin children.” Her voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear her. “All forty-two of them. But especially the two who were my sons.”
Remember your training. Remember the Hero rules. Remember the classes that taught the importance of never losing your cool in a real life situation. The voice in my head says the opposite of what I feel. This is not a training session. This is real life. You can do this.
My arms bend at the elbows, hands gripped into fists, ready to fight but waiting for my opponent to make the first move. A thin vibration of power rolls off Aurora, filling the air around me with the feeling of pure elation.
I am not afraid to fight, but Hero training did not prepare me for this. I have no Heroes to call in for back up because they are all frozen in a state of terror, forced to witness this scene as it unfolds. I have no Retrievers because they are in lockdown. I am surrounded by people but totally alone. Yep. There’s no chapter on this in the Hero manual.
I’m watching Aurora in one moment, lying on my back staring at the ceiling in the next. Death pulled a sneak attack so quickly I hadn’t even seen her move. Kicking onto my feet, I launch myself at her, missing her by an inch as she swirls and delivers a kick to my cheek. Damn that stings.
She leaps toward me and I grab her arms, bringing both of us to the floor. My head crashes against the granite and everything doubles as my skull fractures along my temple. The intense pain of a shattered skull feels exactly as horrible as it did two weeks ago. When I grab my head, her feet slam onto my arms, breaking them.
The walls change colors and my vision blurs as she kicks my head over and over again. The bones in my arm knit themselves back together, allowing me to reach up and grab her ankle, blocking her next kick. My legs heal a moment later and I jump to my feet. Adrenaline grabs hold of me. This isn’t over yet.
I seize the fist she throws at me, twist her arm around, and use her own leverage to send her flying over my head and crashing to the floor. Diving on top of her, I break both of her wrists and jam my elbow into her throat. She gasps and coughs, blood spilling out of her mouth as she struggles to breathe.
My laugh is satisfying despite the immense amount of pain it causes in my head, stomach, and ribcage. The weight of my decision no longer pulls at my ethical heartstrings; if anything, this villain deserves a quick death from me. Aurora will only kill her anyway.
“Any last words?” I ask, a bit ironically as I dig my elbow further into her windpipe. She’s barely breathing—she sure as hell won’t be talking. Aurora’s stiletto heels clack across the floor as she approaches me. Because of this distraction I probably don’t hear what I think I hear when the villain’s lips part and mouth what looks like the words, I’m sorry.
My eyebrows draw together as I watch the villain slowly dying. I’m vaguely aware that Aurora is now only an arm’s length away until she starts to clap. It’s the most faked applause ever.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
I look at up at her, refusing to let her see the doubt in my eyes. “Well done, Maci. I’m impressed. You’ve beaten your opponent and are well on the way to killing her. But, before you do, and believe me I can’t wait until you do—” The villain writhes beneath my grip, her lips moving furiously in words I can’t understand. Aurora frowns and then continues, “I’d like to show you something.”
She kneels and grabs the villain’s facemask. If she thinks seeing someone’s face as they writhe in pain is enough to deter me, she’s wrong. Her eyes lock with mine as she peels the mask up to her forehead, stopping when the dried blood makes it too difficult to continue. My grip falters as I look into the eyes of the person I am about to kill. Light brown with flecks of chestnut and gold. Thick eyelashes under unevenly spaced eyebrows. Blood drips down a square jaw. I realize I am looking into a real life mirror. The person I am slowly choking to death looks exactly like me in every way.
My eyes squint back up at me in a desperate plea. My lips struggle to talk over all the blood and swelling. Aurora’s voice is a whisper in my ear. “Your young little mind is reeling,” she says with a smile. “You’re putting all the pieces together.”
My body trembles with a mixture of rage and confusion. This can’t be possible, this isn’t happening.
“Oh, but it is possible, my dear.” Aurora plucks the thought from my mind. Satisfaction pulses from her power, slamming me in the heart with every beat. Slowly, I remove my arm from my sister’s neck, allowing her to breathe again. “That’s right …” Aurora coos. “You know you want to. You just have to see for yourself.”
With a trembling hand, I reach for the black fabric around her forehead, the remaining mask that covers her head. I know what to expect as the fabric screeches from being yanked back over so much dried blood. But knowing it doesn’t make me any less shocked when I rip her mask off, revealing a tangled mess of hair.
Long, platinum-blonde hair.
Surprise and revulsion have me tripping over my own limbs as I jump up, wanting to get away from this clone of me as quickly as possible. With pained movements, my attacker pushes herself into a standing position but only makes it as far as holding her knees with her head sunk between her shoulders. My hand clenches into a fist.
“Stop!” a voice yells just as the lights flicker, distracting me. Two loud snapping sounds come from the gurney as I look over to see my dad burst out of the restraints across his chest. In all my confusion, I hadn’t recognized my own father’s voice. He twists his neck, stretching from side to side. He steps over the metal that was once around his feet and sets his eyes on the fishbowl.
My twin gasps and covers her mouth with her hands, her attention focusing solely on Aurora instead of me. Stupid, amateur move. I’m about to throw her to the ground, but something makes me stop. She isn’t gasping over Dad’s incredible strength in breaking the ropes, or about the gruesome raw gashes across Dad’s skin, or the way the broken metal ropes burn black lines into the floor below.
She’s gasping because she’s in trouble.
I blink and she’s gone. I may be the fastest runner in the world, but I’m no longer alone as the record holder. My twin sprints across the room. Aurora throws something and my twin jumps into the air, twisting three hundred and sixty degrees to catch it before landing on her feet as graceful as a gymnast at the Olympics.
I glance at Aurora and find her watching me, not them. As if reading my thoughts, she holds up her hand and twists the doomsday device she’s still holding, her face giving me a pure look of neiner neiner, I win, you lose.
Even if I tackle her, she’ll still be able to push the button. This is the worst sort of hostage negotiation ever.
