She feebly shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “No,” she whispered.
Reminded that this was only a game, I severed the connection so fast that the energy snapped against my palms like a stretched rubber band.
I was breathing as if I’d run a mile, and it was the only sound in the room.
Blondie looked away, and with that, she surrendered. I slowly stood, blood dripping from my fingertips, my body blistered and bruised. There was no roar of applause. No referee to raise my arm as the winner. The white room was now freckled with blood spatters, and I saw myself in every direction. This was the real me. Not a scrapper trying to get by. Not a hustler. Not a daughter. Not even a killer.
I was a warrior.
The intercom clicked on. “We have a champion. The raven-haired fighter is the last standing. Congratulations to the winners. Please remain seated until we escort you out. Drinks are available for those waiting. Good evening.”
Unimpressed by the announcement, I made my way back to my door and lifted my duster off the ground.
“Well done,” Blondie said.
I turned to look at her. She had managed to sit up, but barely. Pablo hadn’t suggested that losers were fired, but I guessed that salaries relied heavily on wins. I didn’t know this girl or what her story was—why she needed the money so badly to put herself through this—but I inclined my head respectfully before the door opened and I left the room.
My insides still hurt from the kidney assault, enough that I’d probably pee blood for a week, even after healing. My right arm tingled as I walked dizzily up the stairs.
“I must commend you on your fighting techniques. Very impressive,” Pablo said, approaching with a towel in hand. “Sit down and let me have a look at you.”
I robotically sat in the chair, still feeling that woman’s energy coursing through my body.
Pablo took my hand, and before I knew it, he was giving me healing light. Blue light threaded between our palms as energy specific to healing tunneled through me and sealed up my wounds. The red marks on my thighs disappeared along with the blisters, bruises, and cuts.
Pablo wiped the damp towel over my shoulder and cleaned off the blood. “Next time, bring a suitable change of clothing. Casual. Like something you would wear in a restaurant. The fighters have a private bathroom, and you’ll be able to shower in there.” He lifted my arm and continued washing me. “It’s imperative that we don’t make mistakes. You can’t walk out of our gallery with blood on you. From now on, you’ll enter through the back door.”
“Am I hired?”
He looked at me with astonishment. “My dear, you won against our reigning champion.”
“Why would you pit me against the best?”
He turned the towel over. “Because we only want the best. I would have hired you if you lasted more than ten minutes in there. No one has lasted more than five.” Once my hands were spotless, he stepped back. “Before you leave, someone would like to meet you.”
A woman floated toward us from around the bend. Her alabaster skin wasn’t without flaws, so I ruled out a Vampire. I always tried to assess people’s Breed right off the bat. Her orange hair, which was styled in a finger wave, ruled out Chitah. Candy-apple-red lips turned up in a smile, revealing teeth so white and perfect that she almost didn’t seem real. The sequins in her silver gown caught the light and shimmered like diamonds.
Pablo shoved a chair in front of me. Out of breath, he stepped aside to let the lady sit.
She offered me her hand, the emerald ring on her middle finger as deep green as Irish pastures. “Hello, Robin. I’m Audrey.” It was the same British announcer from the fight, only now she spoke more softly.
I stared at her hand, wondering if she wanted me to kiss it or something.
“I’ve never been a fan of all the bowing,” she said. “I think that custom began because of people like me.”
I took her hand and lightly shook it. “People like you?” Before letting go, I felt what I could only describe as the sensation of running through a meadow of flowers—warm wind in my hair, golden sunshine melting against my skin, and the fragrant smell of lilac and phlox. I retracted my hand. “You’re a Sensor.”
She crossed her legs. “Breeds have never trusted each other. Beware the