All That Lives Must Die

So much in balance. Forces of destruction and love and betrayal orbiting her the likes she had not seen since the War in Heaven. She smiled, tasting the anticipation of victory on her lips.

Sealiah turned to her guards and, with a nod, singled out their shortest member.

Her champion came to her, kneeling on one knee, head bowed.

Sealiah gestured for the spiked helmet to be removed.

Jezebel shook loose her platinum curls. Her eyes burned with hate and she quickly lowered her gaze. “He is dangerous, My Queen. I beg you; give me the order to destroy the Deceiver.”

Sealiah smiled. “Not yet, my pet.”

She appreciated her protegee’s viciousness. Under normal circumstances, she would have agreed with her. It was an instinctual reaction: erase one’s smartest enemies when the opportunity presented itself, and allow the stupid ones to live to breed inferior competition.

But instinct changed and evolved or a species perished. Even for the Infernals. Especially facing the new order heralded by the Post twins.

Sealiah lifted Jezebel’s face. The girl’s shattered bones had mended, and her battle-won bruises all but faded. Only the slightest imperfection marred her features, but for what Sealiah needed her for next, her broken doll had to be perfect.

“We must make you ready.” The bones would have to be rebroken and properly aligned. Sealiah brushed a finger over her cheek.

Jezebel stiffened and stood straighter, and a flicker of horror flashed across her features.

“Are you ready for the next act of our little drama?”

“Yes, My Queen,” Jezebel relied. “I will perish for the cause if so ordered.”

“Very good,” Sealiah whispered, “because that may be precisely what I require.”

57 HOW TO FOIL A DEATH TRAP

Fiona stood in the middle of a war zone.

Not entirely unexpected. . not after the last few times when Mr. Ma had ramped up the difficulty of the obstacle course, but this was ridiculous!

She ducked-a jet of flame roared over her head.

Eliot knelt next to her and pointed his guitar at the pipe hissing fire. He twanged and held a single note, made it waver and warble and growl with feedback.

The pipe sputtered and sparked. It exploded, extinguishing the flames.

She twisted the shutoff valve closed.

Fiona wasn’t sure where Eliot had gotten his new instrument (or, for that matter, how an electric guitar made so much sound without any wires or an amplifier). He’d just showed up at the start of gym class today with the thing. No explanations.

Time for question and answers later. . if they made it through today’s class. She scanned the course, trying to reorient.

They were thirty feet off the ground. The ramp she crouched upon was aluminum, fireproof thankfully (one of the modest safety considerations Mr. Ma had allowed for his reconstructed course), but the surface reflected heat so she felt as if she were in an oven.

Mitch was at the top of the ramp. So was Amanda.

Twin waters cannon pelted her teammates with high-pressure streams-forcing them into a corner to keep from getting blasted off the edge.

Mitch tried to shield Amanda from the worst of it, but they both looked as if they were drowning.

“Are you sure this is the easiest way?” she yelled at Eliot over the noise.

Eliot gave her that I know what I’m doing look, but nonetheless strummed his guitar, turned back and forth, and nodded his head.

Fiona squinted through the smoke and mist. Lines of fire crisscrossed the obstacle course. She didn’t see any trace of Team Falcon. . or how far ahead of Scarab they’d gotten.

Team Falcon was the number one team at Paxington. They’d taken an early lead on the course-and then disappeared.

But there’d been no gunshot signaling the end of the match. . so Scarab still was in the game.

“We’ve got to free them up!” Eliot yelled and pointed to Mitch and Amanda.

Fiona nodded, but stayed where she was, thinking. She didn’t want to rush up there and have the cannon turn on them-get knocked off this slick-with-water ramp.

She traced the water pipes as they snaked back around the supports.

She leaned over the ramp and with care looped her rubber band about the two-inch water main. She eased back, focused her mind along the edge-made the cut.

The pipe ruptured.

Steel twisted into a jagged flower. Pressurized water sprayed high into the air and arced onto the field below.

“Fiona!” someone called from above.

She shielded her eyes from the sun. Jeremy and Sarah were twenty feet above her on the next level. Jeremy’s hands were pitch black.

“We’re stuck,” Sarah cried. “Everything up here is covered with tar! You’ll have to go around.”

For the bazillionth time today, Fiona wished Jezebel were here. Infernal schemes or not-even with all the drama between her at Eliot-it would’ve been worth it. She could’ve easily gotten up there, freed the Covingtons, and then they’d have three team members close to the top. Almost a win.

But no use wishing. It was a fact Scarab was down its best player. Fiona’s job was to figure out how to win anyway with only seven.

Seven: Her and Eliot. . Jeremy and Sarah. . Mitch and Amanda. .

She turned to Eliot. At the same time they both asked, “Where’s Robert?”

“Here!” Robert called. He extended a hand up and over the edge of the ramp; Eliot then helped Robert onto the steaming aluminum surface.

“Are you okay?” Fiona crouched next to him.

She wanted to touch his arm, just to reassure him, but with all the weirdness between them lately. . and all the stuff happening between her and Mitch, she decided not to.

“I’m just peachy,” Robert muttered. He slicked back his wet hair. “Nice plan-charge straight into a trap.”

She glared at him. “I didn’t see it. And Eliot said it was the way.”

“It is the way,” Eliot replied, annoyed. “I keep telling you.”

“So we keep going,” Fiona said, and then to Robert, “and try not to fall off this time, okay?”

“I didn’t fall.” Robert frowned and his brows knit together, uncharacteristic worry lines creased his forehead. “But we’ve got to go back.” He pointed over the edge. “Team Falcon is there. They’re down.”

Fiona stood and set her hands on her hips. “If they’re down, isn’t that a good thing?”

Robert shook his head. “They cut a gas line to stop the fire. . and there’s no shutoff valve. They’ve passed out.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she whispered.

Robert narrowed his eyes. “Come on. They might be dead already. I need your help. I can’t do it myself.”

Mitch and Amanda trotted to them. “What’s going on?” Mitch looked back and forth between her and Robert.

“New plan,” Eliot told him.

Fiona’s face burned-not from anger, but from shame that she had actually considered moving ahead and capturing their flag. . at least getting four of them up there, instead of going back to help people who were dying.

This was not a war. This was just a class. Everything at Paxington was warping her sense of right and wrong.

“Okay,” she said. “New plan.”