I moved quickly, pinning Frost on her back before she had a chance to get up. “I’ll go first.”
“This is such a joke,” Frost snarled. She bucked her hips, and I lurched forward, releasing my grip to catch myself before my nose crunched into the mat. “I can’t believe they put me with you.”
I felt Priti standing close by but out of view. She chuckled. “Ladies, please don’t kill one another.”
“We won’t,” I said, but my eyes on Frost added a silent…yet. I stole a glimpse of the girls next to us, going through their moves in a way that rehearsed mechanics, not gave bloody noses.
I resumed my original position, lying across her body, putting her in a hold. “You just can’t stand that the vampires like me”—I tilted my head, whispering for her ears alone—“more than you.”
“No.” She let out a feline snarl and grabbed my arm. Her nails dug into me as she wrenched my elbow to her chest, thrusting her h*ps and flipping me onto my back. She straddled me, pinning with her knees. “I can’t stand you because you think you’re better than everyone else. You think you know so much. But guess what, Drew? I know more.”
Little bits of spittle flew from her mouth, and I squinted against the onslaught. The girl was making this more than just a practice fight, and it was pissing me off. I hooked a foot around hers, propelled my hips, and flipped her back under me. “You need to learn, Audra. All this posturing just smells desperate. Vampires hate desperate.”
“Is that what you told Emma?” She wrapped her legs around my waist, hooking her feet at my back, but she was unable to get leverage.
“Screw you.” We were grappling for real now, but our strength and size were well matched. She bucked and squirmed, but I held on, keeping her pinned. “Don’t you dare mention Emma.”
“You think you’re the teacher’s pet.” She shifted her weight, and I just barely escaped a choke hold.
“There’s always Master Dagursson,” I said sweetly, referring to the remarkably unattractive ancient Viking vampire. “He loves you.”
“You think you’re better than everyone else.”
“And you don’t?”
“You think you’re the vampires’ little darling.” She wrenched her legs up and cinched my neck. “But I know better.”
I tried to tap out, swatting her repeatedly—the universal sparring language for stop killing me—but there was no stopping her.
“It’s your fault Emma’s gone,” she said.
I rolled to my side, forcing her legs to unclench, and sucked in a breath. “It’s a vampire’s fault that Emma’s gone.”
But deep down, I worried she was right. Deep down, I tormented myself with thoughts that I should’ve done more to save my best friend. Could I have found a way to sacrifice myself to save her? Two girls enter; only one will leave…. So why had I been the one to emerge alive?
The memory of her body, limp in Alcántara’s arms, brought fresh rage and anguish. Power shot through me, and I broke Frost’s hold, flinging her away like she weighed nothing. “Get the hell off me.”
“Your roommates are cursed.” She crouched on hands and knees, and I could see her mind working furiously, looking for her chance to pounce. “I refuse to be tied up like Emma, taken to that castle just because you’re some vampire’s pet.”
I froze. “What did you just say?”
But she’d frozen, too. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, tied up like Emma?” Maybe if she’d said carried, it would’ve implied Emma’s body—her dead body. But she’d said tied up. Dead bodies weren’t tied up. “Was she still alive when they took her?”
“You saw her,” she replied, giving me a non-answer, but Frost’s eyes betrayed the secret she’d spilled.
“They took Emma to the castle…and she was alive?” The words came out slowly, a chill creeping over my body.
“How should I know?”
I could tell she was lying. Frost didn’t want to be forced to go to the castle…like Emma.
Emma was alive. Or she had been.
What happened to her after Alcántara slashed her down the middle? As with all the fallen girls, Tracers had come into the ring and taken her away. I thought of the vampires’ castle, a hulking granite keep, looming silently beyond the standing stones. Was that where they took her body? For what purpose?
Oh God, Em. It was unthinkable. Was it possible Emma still lived, enduring Alcántara’s tortures?