“And after that?” I asked.
Mo grinned. “Then it’s back to business, blood, and battles as usual, kid.”
I snorted. I would expect nothing less from the Families. It was amazing they could call a truce long enough to hold the tournament in the first place.
Angelo drove down the mountain, but instead of heading for the Midway, he took a different route, snaking around the tourist area and heading toward the outskirts of town. He drove over the lochness bridge, slowing down long enough for Devon and me to fling several handfuls of quarters out the windows to pay the toll for all the Sinclair vehicles crossing the span today. I peered out the windows, but I didn’t see any long black tentacles, rippling water, or other signs of the lochness. Then again, it was early. Perhaps the monster hadn’t roused itself from its watery bed on the bottom of the river yet. At least someone got to sleep in today.
Angelo drove on. A couple of miles later, the cracked sidewalks, abandoned warehouses, and dilapidated buildings gave way to rolling hills covered with grassy lawns and dense thickets of trees. In the distance, I spotted a wide swath of white sand and the dark blue waters of Bloodiron Lake.
A wooden sign planted in one of the lawns featured a carving of a red boat sitting on blue waves, announcing that we were entering the Cloudburst Falls Fairgrounds and Recreation Area. My heart twisted in my chest. My mom used to bring me out here every summer to swim in the lake, play on the beach, and hike the trails in the surrounding forests, but I hadn’t been here since her death four years ago.
Angelo turned into a paved lot and parked the car. We all got out, with Devon and me grabbing our duffel bags, which held extra clothes and shoes, along with the weapons we would be using in the tournament. My mom’s black-blade sword was stuffed into my bag, while Devon had his father, Lawrence’s sword, the hilt engraved with the Sinclair hand-and-sword crest. Angelo, Mo, and Felix grabbed some other bags filled with supplies out of the SUV, and we all headed toward the fairgrounds.
The fairgrounds spread across several acres, with the evergreen woods rising up all around them like soldiers protecting a precious jewel. Gray cobblestone paths led from the parking lots to the fairgrounds, winding past vendors selling everything from sunscreen to replica black blades to hats covered with Family crests. Food carts also clustered along the paths, and the smells of cinnamon rolls, chocolate chip cookies, and deep-fried fudge filled the air, making my mouth water and stomach rumble, even though we’d just finished breakfast an hour ago. Wooden booths offered spectators the chance to try their hands at carnival games, like a ring toss with plastic lochness tentacles as the targets. As part of a strong man test, a kid was enthusiastically beating a plastic bat on top of a fake tree troll head. The harmless game reminded me of the murdered monster we’d found yesterday. And just like that, my appetite vanished.
We moved past the carts and game booths and fell in with the crowd streaming toward the center of the fairgrounds. Gold, silver, and bronze cuffs flashed on many wrists, but there was more mixing between the members of the Families than usual, and everyone seemed to be in a cheery mood, laughing, smiling, and teasing their friends and everyone else they knew. The tournament hadn’t started yet, which meant that everyone still had a chance to win. I wondered how long the collective goodwill would last once people started being eliminated.
The main drag of the fairgrounds led into a large, circular stadium, with gray stone bleachers rising up all around it, and private, glassed-in boxes set at the very tops. Each of the private boxes boasted a flag bearing the crest and colors of the Family it belonged to. The Sinclair box was directly across the stadium from the Draconi one. Naturally.
Five tents had been set up around the stadium entrance, close to a waist-high, chain-link fence that circled the grassy field that would serve as the competition area. Each tent was patterned with a Family crest and topped by a matching flag, while a sixth, much larger tent, done in neutral white fabric, perched off to one side.
Angelo, Mo, Felix, Devon, and I headed for the Sinclair tent. Just as Angelo and Mo had said, practically everyone in the Families had turned out for the tournament, and many folks wearing Family T-shirts and hats were already perched on the bleachers, noshing on nachos and buffalo wings, and waiting for the action to start. Workers moved back and forth across the stadium floor, carrying hurdles, balance beams, and more, setting up what looked like an obstacle course.
Flocks of tourists had also come out for the tournament. I could tell they were tourist rubes by the cameras hanging around their necks and the way many used their cameras and phones to snap photos of everything around them, including the pixies zipping through the air like swarms of bees, their translucent wings shimmering in the morning sunlight, carrying ice cream cones that were twice their size.
I snorted. From their constant photo snapping and excited chatter, you’d think that the tourists had never seen pixies before, but the creatures were everywhere, just like all the other monsters that the rubes came to Cloudburst Falls to gawk at. Our town just happened to have more magic and monsters than anywhere else. At least, that’s what the tourism officials claimed.
We reached the Sinclair tent and stepped through the opening. Chairs had been set up inside, along with tables full of food and drinks and several oscillating fans to combat the day’s growing heat. Reginald stood in the center of the tent, wearing another one of his black tweed suits and directing the pixies, who were passing out bottles of water. Claudia was sitting by herself along one of the walls, checking her phone.
Angelo, Mo, and Felix split off to see if Reginald needed any help, but Devon and I didn’t get five steps into the tent before people started coming up to us and talking about the tournament. For once, I didn’t mind the attention. The mood was light and happy, and everyone was back-slapping, high-fiving, and wishing all the competitors good luck.
“Ready to choke, Lila?” a snide voice murmured in my ear. “Because that’s exactly what you’re going to do today.”
Well, not everyone.
Vance stepped up beside me, a smug grin stretching across his handsome face. He made a slow slashing gesture with his finger across his throat, then raised his hands to his neck and started making fake choking sounds.
I gave him a sweet smile in return. “If you don’t move along, I’m going to shove my fist into your throat and make you choke for real.”
Vance dropped his hands and glared at me, and I glared right back at him.
Devon stepped in between us. “Good luck, Vance,” he said in a pointed tone.
Vance rolled his eyes. “I don’t need luck. That’s for all the other losers here.”
Devon’s face hardened at the insult. “Well, I guess we’ll see who the real losers are at the end of the tournament.”
“Whatever, dude.” Vance rolled his eyes again and moved over to his friends, who were clustered around one of the drink tables.
“What a jackass,” Devon muttered.
“No argument here.”
We moved deeper into the tent, both of us giving and receiving more well-wishes. I might be supercynical, but even I had to admit that the camaraderie was . . . nice. It made me feel like I truly was a member of the Family and part of something bigger and more important than just myself.
It made me proud to be a Sinclair.
“Isn’t this great!” Oscar said, zooming over to me, his violet eyes bright with excitement.
I eyed the caramel apple in his hand, which was about twice the size of his entire body. “I think that you’ve had too much sugar already. You’re worse than a little kid when you get all hopped up on it.”
“Too much sugar?” Oscar said, his voice high and twangy. “Too much sugar? There is no such thing!”
He took another bite of his apple, and his wings started twitching even faster than before, making the black cape flutter around his shoulders. Oscar gave me a manic grin, then zoomed off to chatter to another pixie.
Devon was
talking to a couple of the other competitors, so I wandered over to where Mo was standing along one of the tent walls, scribbling on a notepad. Several pens were stuck through the brim of his white straw hat, while still more pens bristled in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, which was black and patterned with white orchids.
“What are you doing?”
Mo’s eyes never left his notepad. “Overseeing some friendly wagers about the tournament—for the good of the Family, of course.”
“You mean you’ve gone from pawnbroker to bookie.”
The corner of his mouth lifted up in a sly smile. “Can’t get anything past you, kid.”
“Just be sure I get my cut.”
Mo arched an eyebrow. “Would I try to cheat you out of money that I’ve made betting on you?”
“Absolutely.”
He grinned. “You know me too well, Lila.”
I laughed.
The cheery conversation went on for several more minutes, until Claudia put her phone away, rose to her feet, and strolled to the center of the tent. Devon handed his sword to her, and she twirled the Sinclair Family black blade around in her hand. Everyone stopped what they were doing, quieted down, and faced her. She straightened to her full height, her green gaze sweeping back and forth over everyone gathered here. Beyond the fabric walls, the murmur of the crowd continued, but everything was still and silent in here.
“No matter what happens in the tournament, who wins and who loses, I want you all to know how very proud I am that you are members of my Family,” Claudia said, looking at each one of us in turn.
My eyes locked with hers, and her warm pride filled my chest. She really was happy to call us her Family, in more ways than one, and it wasn’t just some pep talk to get us excited for the tournament.
“That being said,” Claudia continued, a wry smile curving her lips, “if we manage to show the other Families how strong we are by excelling in the tournament, well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either. Would any of you?”
We all grinned back at her.
Claudia raised her black blade, her hand holding the sword high, mimicking her Family crest. “To the Sinclairs!”
“To the Sinclairs!” we all roared back to her.
There were more cheers, laughs, and well-wishes; then Devon and I filed out of the tent with the other competitors. Vance made kissy noises when I walked past, but I ignored him. Devon was right. Vance was a total jackass.
Several tables had been set up outside the white tent, which was serving as command central and the medical center, and we got in line with the other competitors. In an instant, everyone turned from cheery and loud to tense and quiet, their gazes cutting left and right, scanning the lines, and checking out the competition.
As the Sinclair bruiser, Devon got his share of speculative looks, but most folks were focused on Deah, who stood at the front of one of the lines, along with Blake and the rest of the Draconis.
Deah was dressed in a red T-shirt with a gold snarling dragon crest and matching shorts, just like the rest of the Draconis. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her gold cuff glimmered on her wrist. Instead of smirking at everyone like Blake was, Deah stared straight ahead, pretending she didn’t notice everyone staring at her. She didn’t seem to like being the center of attention any more than I did.
Each competitor was assigned a random number. Devon drew number seventeen, while I was number three. Naturally. Bad things always came in threes. I wondered if this was an omen that I wouldn’t do well in the tournament. Probably. But I pinned the paper number to my T-shirt anyway.
Once we got our numbers, there was nothing to do until the first event, an obstacle course. So Devon, Felix, and I ended up hanging around outside the Sinclair tent, watching the ebb and flow of people and pixies.
“You guys are going to do great,” Felix said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you both ended up facing off in the final round against each other.”
Devon groaned. “I hope not. Lila will kick my ass for sure.”
I lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You’d better believe it, Sinclair.”
He laughed and looked at me, and I found myself falling into his green, green eyes—
“Felix! There you are!” a voice called out.
The three of us turned to see Katia Volkov weaving through the crowd and heading our way. She bounced up beside Felix and gave him a dazzling smile, her dark red braid swishing across her back. Like everyone else, Katia was dressed in a Family T-shirt and matching shorts, dark green with the silver wolf head that was the Volkov crest. A matching silver cuff glimmered on her wrist, while the number thirty-three was pinned to her T-shirt.
“Hey, Katia,” Felix said.
He smiled, but it quickly turned into more of a grimace, and he dropped his eyes from hers and started glancing around the tents, probably looking for Deah.
But Katia had no idea that something was wrong and sidled a little closer to him.
“I haven’t heard from you lately,” she said. “We used to text all the time, but not so much anymore.”
Felix’s grimace deepened. “Oh, I’ve been . . . busy. You know, with school and Family stuff and everything. Haven’t you?”
Katia frowned. “Yeah, I guess.” Another sunny smile split her face, lighting up her hazel eyes. “But I thought that we could catch up after the tournament is over for the day. Maybe go over to the Midway, get some food, and . . . talk.”
“Oh, um, I . . . well, you see—” Felix stammered, trying to find an excuse to turn her down.
Whispers surged through the crowd, saving him from having to answer her. People moved aside, and Blake strutted over to us, along with the other Draconi competitors, with Deah trailing along behind them.
“Oh, look,” Blake said, stopping and sneering at us. “It’s the losers’ bracket.”
“Always nice to see you too, Blake,” Devon replied in a calm tone.
Blake’s brown eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why you guys even bothered to show up. Everyone knows that Deah’s going to win again. Isn’t that right, Sis?”
He nudged her with his elbow, but Deah wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, her gaze was locked on to exactly how close Katia was standing to Felix.
Her face turned as cold and hard as her brother’s. “Yeah. That’s right.”
Felix winced and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to explain himself to her, but he couldn’t do that with Blake and the other Draconis standing there.
Blake ignored the rest of us, his gaze moving up and down Katia’s body. “You know, I meant to tell you yesterday, but you are looking good as usual, Katia: too good to hang out with these losers.”
Katia looked at Blake, then Felix, then back at Blake. “Thanks,” she said in a neutral voice. “Good luck out there today.”
“Baby, I don’t need luck.” He smirked. “And neither do the rest of the Draconis. Come on, Deah. Let’s go tell Dad how much we’re going to enjoy beating these losers.”
Blake shoved his way right in between Devon and Felix, knocking them both aside. Devon glared at Blake’s back, his hands clenching into tight fists, but Felix stared at Deah the whole time. She dropped her head, skirted past him, and hurried to catch up with her obnoxious brother. Felix held his hand out, as if he was going to grab her shoulder, but he dropped it to his side at the last second.
Deah didn’t see the motion, but Katia did. The other girl looked back and forth between Felix and Deah. She frowned, realizing that something was going on between them, even if she didn’t know exactly what it was.
“Forget about them,” Devon said. “We should go over to the fence and scope out the obstacle course. They’ll announce the competitors for the first heat soon.”
“I’ll go with you guys,” Felix volunteered. He forced himself to smile at Katia. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, still frowning and looking at Deah’s back. “That will be great.”
“Great,” Felix replied in a too-bright voice.
He nodded at her, then whirled around and started walking toward the chain-link fence. Not quite running, but close enough to it. Katia’s frown deepened, but she nodded at Devon and me and headed back toward the Volkov tent.
“Let the games begin,” I muttered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Devon and I caught up with Felix at the fence, where he was looking out over the obstacle course, along with most of the competitors.
The workers had completely transformed the stadium floor. Gone was the flat, empty, grassy field, and in its place stood hurdles, balance beams, a zip line, and a fifty-foot-tall rope ladder.
But the centerpiece of the stadium was a large, natural cold spring filled with fresh, clear water that constantly bubbled. Legend had it that the spring had the same healing properties as the water that flowed down the falls on Cloudburst Mountain, and tourists used to come and bathe in the spring, before the Families decided to build the stadium around it.
Natural rock formations shot through with veins of bloodiron ore rose up out of the ground around the spring, making it look like a miniature Stonehenge. Oh, sure, the rocks and grass and water made the spring seem pretty and inviting, like an oasis in the middle of the stadium, but really, the rocks, grass, and water were just more obstacles to get through.
Because this event was also for the tourists, all the obstacles, from the hurdles to the balance beams to the zip line, were decorated in cheesy ren-faire style, with flags, banners, and feathers, or adorned with snarling monster faces, just like all the Midway shops and restaurants. Fake tree trolls hung from portions of the rope ladder, while black plastic lochness tentacles stuck up out of the spring. The bubbling water made it look like there was a real lochness lurking in the cold depths there.