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Michael said urgently, "Stop. Bro, stop this. This isn't you."
I closed my eyes and let my tense muscles go loose in his hold. Only an idiot would fall for that, but Michael liked to believe he could do anything. And he didn't think I was very smart, anyway.
When I felt him release me, I was smiling so much it hurt. "You're wrong about that.Bro."
He probably had warning, hearing that, but I didn't dive forward to get away from him. Oh no. I launched myself backward, pile-driving into him, and slammed us both down on the springy, booming canvas floor. The crowd was screaming; it sounded like thunder in my ears. The lights pounded down on my skin, and I could feel Glory in my head like a searchlight.
She wanted me to win. Win at all costs.
I twisted around. Michael was pinned under me and he was fighting to get up. This time I had the weight and leverage, and as long as I stopped him from getting organized, I could hurt him.
I wanted to hurt him.
"Shane!" he was yelling. I saw him but I didn't see him, not clearly; he was a shape, a voice, an
opponent, and who he was didn't matter. He wasn't a person; he was a thing, and I hit him full force in the face. Again and again. Every time, pain jolted up my arm and nausea followed with it, like I was drunk and tipping over into the throwing-up stage, but then it would recede and I'd hit him again.
I hit him with special force, and I felt a bone snap in my hand. One of the little ones--no big deal--but the high, bright snap felt like a flash of red strobe light going through me, and for a second or two after, my head was crystal clear.
And I saw a girl yanking on the cage door, trying to get it open. A tall girl in a ratty, torn raincoat and a stupid, giant hat that fell off as she fought with the door's padlock, revealing shiny, close-bobbed black hair and a face as pale as any vamp's.
"God, Shane,stop!"Eve was screaming, and pounding on the bars hard enough to make them ring. "Stop it! What are you doing?"
It was shocking, like seeing Alyssa standing there, and for a second I thought I did see Lyss, the way I'd last seen her, looking so pretty and smart and ready for anything, ready to die, and I couldn't save her because I was aloserand I'd been weak, so weak. I should have opened the dooreven though it was hot, so hot, and I'd been passing out from the smoke.
I looked down.
I'd done some damage to Michael's face, but it was healing. There was blood on the canvas and on my hands and dripping down his cheeks. Any human dude would have been ready for the hospital.
I realized that he wasn't fighting back.
Easy money.
I pulled back my fist for another punch, and he didn't flinch. He didn't look away, either. He just said, "It's not your fault, man. I don't blame you."
For some reason, that was the first thing he'd said that I reallyheard.It was almost like I was hearing my father's voice again, saying something that I'd needed to hear every day since Lyss disappeared from our lives.
That it wasn't my fault.
That I couldn't have stopped it.
The truth was, the fire hadn't been my fault. Nobody could have gotten to my sister to save her.
But this--thiswas my fault.
I sat back, staring down at him. His blue eyes were bloodshot, flickering with red, but he wasn't going vamp on me even though I'd hurt him badly. He was just going to take it.
"It's Glory," he said. "You know that, right? Not your fault."
Glory. I looked around but I didn't see her. It was just a sea of faces now, screaming faces that didn't care about me or Michael or anything but their own entertainment. Except for Eve, looking so stricken
and horrified on the other side of the bars.Shecared. Too much, probably.
"Bishop's here," Michael said. "They're going to put him in here with you once I wear you down. I can't let that happen. I have to stay in here with you. It's going to take us both to get him. You understand? We have to stand up together, Shane."
I did. I'd been right before; this was some kind of nightmare, some weird spell that was going to snap any moment now, and things would be okay, all okay. None of this was...real....
Then I saw Claire.
She was standing outside the cage by the bleachers, and Myrnin was holding her arm like he was trying to keep her from going full-out Eve and running for the cage, but I didn't think she was trying. Like me, she was paralyzed, trapped in her nightmare, and those dark eyes were looking at me,seeingme, and I saw myself, too. Sweating, bruised, feral, angry, cruel.
It made me sick.
I rolled away from Michael and curled into a ball, facing Claire, staring back. Maybe it was the pain from my hand still tearing through me; maybe it was, finally, my own brain waking up and screaming.
Maybe it was seeing that horrified look on her face. I didn't even care that she was with Myrnin; I was gladshe had someone to protect her here. And I knew he would. He'd better. Him, I would kill if he let anything happen to her, and he knew it.
I saw her lips shape my name.Shane.I couldn't hear her, but I knew how it would sound, how heartbroken and disappointed and scared. I'd let all this get away from me. I'd hurt her and she'd hurt me, and we had to fix it. We had to. Because I couldn't let this destroy the people I loved.
That included Michael, the jackass. I flopped over on my back, breathing fast, and saw him sitting up. Too-pale-to-be-normal blood ran down his chin and dripped on his bare chest. Without a shirt he looked buff but very, very pale, almost ghostly. Still Michael, though.
Still my friend.
Always my friend, even when I was the biggest dick on the planet.
He was looking at me with a frown, checking out whether I was still in that other, scary place, and I nodded to him and wiped sweat off my face. I felt cold now, not burning hot like I'd been. When I flexed my hand, the pain from the broken bone sliced through me like a clean red knife, driving away all the lingering ghosts of anger.
"You didn't fight," I said. "Jesus, man, I could have killed you."
"Don't think you could have, not for a long time," he said. "Anyway, you didn't." He looked around and saw Eve. His smile was real and full of delight, but there was something else mixed up in there, too. Something almost scared. "I'm okay, Eve. No permanent damage."
She was clinging to the bars like she intended to force her way inside with sheer fury. "Shane, if you hurt him, I'llkillyou!"
I waved at her wearily. "Yeah, thanks. I'm the one with a broken bone."
I exchanged a quick look with Michael, who was making plans. "Get away from the door," he said.
"Why?"
Michael stood up. "Because I'm kicking it open."
It took seven sustained, vampire-strength kicks to snap the lock and send the thing flying back; Eve moved off, but not far. I was watching the outside, the crowd. Vassily had, no surprise, disappeared. He'd never intended to be around for long, just long enough to grab the betting receipts and catch his ride. But I wasn't worried about him. He was a greedy ass hat; no big deal.
I was worried about Gloriana, because I could still feel that subtle gray tension inside me that meant she was around. Not focused on me, not right now, but definitely......
I saw her a second before she grabbed Eve by the throat and yanked her backward, holding her tight like a Gothic human shield. Eve's weird hat got crushed in the chaos--and now it was chaos, because the people in the stands were figuring out that things weren't going according to the standard fight-club plan, and they wanted out. Only there wasn't any way out of here. The doors were locked. Most of the vamps had already bolted, leaving Myrnin and Michael and Gloriana behind.
Glory's blue eyes met mine over Eve's shoulder, and I froze in the act of getting up. My mind clicked over and blanked into a perfect, smooth whiteness, and I felt that fury boiling up again, hot and crazy and perfect.She knew me. She knew just where to push, and what would cause me the most pain. I didn't even have to think about it consciously anymore for it to hurt.
Hurt.Of course......
I slammed my right fist down into the floor and sent another jolt of agony through my body. The fury shattered and melted away, and I gave Gloriana a smile. A nice, big one. "Guess not," I said. "You wanted to make me kill Michael, didn't you? Kind of an if-I-can't-have-him-nobody-can stalker thing, right? I'm just your weapon. Man, girl, get therapy."
She smirked at me. "That's all you're good for, Collins--being a weapon," she said. "That's all you'll ever be good for. Taking out enemies."
