All That Lives Must Die

The Knights moved carefully. . probably because they knew magic when they heard it and didn’t want to give Eliot a chance to turn on them.

Amanda just sat there, listening. Utterly useless.

Fiona’s anger came. It spilled through her blood, molten and pulsing and erupting along every nerve.

She turned to Mitch. “Get to the flag. You can’t follow the way I’m going.”

Fiona stretched the rubber band on her wrist and sliced through the wire cage.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she jumped-free fall for a heartbeat-then impacted on the platform below.

The wood splintered and cracked. Pain exploded along her shins, and her shirt ripped.

These distractions were quickly blotted out by her swelling anger.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind once more: “Within you burns the fury of all the Hells, unquenchable and unstoppable.”

She flipped around to the underside of the platform, grabbed the supporting pole, and slid thirty feet down. She landed so hard, her sneakers made craters.

She stalked onto the field.

“Hey!” Fiona shouted at two closest Knights, a boy and a girl.

They turned, shock on their faces; then the boy regained his wits and spoke to the girl. It was Tamara from the locker room. She smiled and moved to Fiona while the boy continued toward Eliot.

Amanda heard Fiona’s shout, however. She glanced about wildly, now seeing the danger: three White Knight boys had her and Eliot surrounded. She screamed.

That scream broke Eliot out of his trance. He looked up, turned all around, taking in the three boys closing in. He hesitated; his fingers twitched.

Meanwhile, Tamara blocked Fiona’s path and set one hand on the ground. The grass where she touched turned gray and crumpled to dust-a circle of death that spread outward.

Around Fiona, however, the yellowed grass greened, wiggled, bursting forth with life, and growing in thick tangles about her feet.

She took one step, but the grass snaked and laced about her, holding fast.

Tamara laughed.

Fiona knelt to cut the offending runners, but as soon as she did, shoots gripped her thigh, pulled the one hand she’d set onto the ground, holding it.

She tugged. The grass ripped out. . but immediately grew new, stronger roots.

Tendrils wormed along her wrist and up to her elbow. She yanked as hard as she could, but she felt the anger slipping from her. . becoming panic, hot in her throat.

Fiona glanced up. The three boys were almost on Eliot.

Eliot flicked his fingers over his violin, and a dissonant chord distorted the air between him and the closest boy-throwing the boy backwards as if he’d been swatted with a giant invisible hand.

But that’s all the chance the other two needed to rush in.

One tackled Eliot; the other kicked Lady Dawn from his grasp.

Tamara walked near Fiona. As she did so, the grass pulled harder, pulled her closer to the ground, and twined about her neck. Tamara was going to make her eat dirt. . or strangle her. [21]

“Remember, little dung scarab,” Tamara said, “in gym class, we can use any means to stop our opponents-even if that means killing them. Bet you wish you had that Infernal with you now.”

She was bluffing. Had to be.

Try as she might, though, Fiona couldn’t summon her hate again; it was like trying to make herself hiccup.

She strained against the pulling grass. . helpless.

Fiona heard a girl’s voice: “The Infernal is here, fool.”

She turned her head. Jezebel was five paces away. Her expression was cool and implacable-save her eyes, which boiled with caustic venom. The grass around her, instead of grabbing, bent toward her and bowed in supplication.

Jezebel crossed the distance to Tamara in two quick strides and backhanded her, sending the girl end over end through the air.

Tamara landed in the sod and didn’t move.

“Help,” Fiona whispered.

Jezebel looked down with contempt. “Help yourself. You have all you need at your fingertips.” She moved toward Eliot. “Do what you do best and cut.”

Cut? There was nothing at her fingertips besides grass.

. . Which were very much like threads. Heck, they were even called blades of grass. She’d been such an idiot.

Fiona focused, felt the edges of every grass shoot touching her, saw their delicate edges-and pressed until they sharpened and focused to a laser-thin line-

— that cut-each other-the ground-everything, slicing itself into a million wriggling shreds of confetti.

Fiona got up and ran to Eliot.

One of the boys sat with his full weight on her brother’s shoulders, pinning him facefirst in the grass. The other boy strode to Lady Dawn. And the third boy moved toward Amanda. . who, to her credit, was at least trying to outmaneuver the bully around a pole and get to Eliot.

The boy on Eliot reared back to hit his head.

Jezebel got to him first-tackled the boy-a blur of motion-they rolled together once on the ground. There was the snap of breaking bone.

The Infernal got up. The boy didn’t move.

Eliot shakily got to his feet.

Fiona joined him. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Eliot grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “If my head’s still on straight.” He gazed riveted on his violin. “Hey! Don’t touch her!”

The other boy picked up Lady Dawn.

A string snapped and sliced the boy’s arm-cutting the vein at his wrist.

“Holy-!” The boy dropped her and clutched his wrist, blood dribbling out.

A whistle trilled, and that sent shivers down Fiona’s spine.

Mr. Ma had appeared on the field (although Fiona had not seen him anywhere close). “That is the match,” he declared. “Halt all activities.”

Mr. Ma pulled out a handheld radio and called for medics. He went to the bleeding White Knight student and sprinkled a powder on his wrist, which staunched the flow of blood.

“Thank goodness it’s over,” Fiona breathed.

She turned to thank Jezebel, but the Infernal was already walking off the field.

“Did we win?” Eliot asked.

Mr. Ma now had an extinguisher in hand. He blasted a jet of frozen carbon dioxide at a fire licking a wooden pole on the obstacle course.

Had one of the White Knights tried to burn something? Fiona hadn’t seen any of them set it, but who else? What wouldn’t these people do to win?

The other four White Knight boys and girls slid down ropes in formation.

Robert, Mitch, Jeremy, and Sarah clambered down along different routes. . and from the long looks on their faces, Mr. Ma didn’t have to say who’d won.

How could this have gone so wrong?

“What happened?” she asked Mitch.

“Didn’t get there in time,” he said with a shrug, but otherwise seemed unfazed. “Once the music stopped, it took me longer than I thought to find the right way.”

Sarah stalked up to her. “Next time you be halfway to the flag, I suggest-strongly suggest-you keep going.