All That Lives Must Die

reaction.

He bounced onto the edge of the next platform, half on, half off.

Luckily it had swung toward him. . or he would have missed.

As he pulled himself up, Jeremy landed next to him. He didn’t help Eliot, but kept running, jumped off, and landed on the next platform.

This left Eliot behind on a crazily gyrating platform.

Not nice. But it was an effective tactic.

By the time he got to his feet, Jeremy was two jumps ahead, and the three Team Wolf interceptors were halfway to Eliot.

Eliot had to figure how to move fast, or he’d get taken out.

But everything moved-this way and that, up and down, ropes and platforms and chains. It seemed like the entire jungle gym was alive.

Eliot heard it, too. The squeaks and groans and clinkings and rattles. . they sang to him. Each motion, the vibrating ropes, the pendulum arcs. . those were beats, plucked notes, all combining into the phrases of a chaotic clash of noise. A symphony.

The gym was an instrument. Not one that Eliot could play by himself, but he could play a part like one person in a larger orchestra.

His body moved in time to this motion, and in response the platform under him synched and swung harmoniously.

He jumped-the action timed at the precise moment dictated by the gym’s song-landed perfectly on the next platform-jumped easily to the next, and again, until he had covered half the distance along the platforms.

Team Wolf was right behind him, however.

He ignored their curses and threats and kept moving.

They’d catch up; he was dead unless he did something. But without Lady Dawn, what could he do? Fight three against one? Robert had taught him that even fighting two on one, no matter how good you thought you were, was a bad idea.

Eliot landed on the last platform-one bolted to massive timbers that went all the way to the ground and was rock solid.

A curve of chain-link fencing arced up from this. Jeremy had already scrambled partway up. It was loose and swayed, however, so Jeremy’s progress was slow.

But he was ahead of Eliot, and that was the only thing that mattered.

The three boys from Team Wolf, led by Donald van Wyck, were one jump away.

Something thudded softly next to Eliot-he turned.

Jezebel. Beautiful, radiant, and utterly unperturbed.

Eliot froze, shocked speechless at her sudden appearance.

This seemed to please her because a slightest smile flickered on her lips.

She had landed so quietly and with such grace that it almost seemed as if she had stepped down, instead of-Eliot glanced overhead three stories-made a jump that would have broken an ordinary person’s legs.

“This fight is my job,” she told him.

The Team Wolf boys hesitated at the sight of her. They whispered to one another.

“No way,” Eliot said. “I’m staying with you. Like in the alley.”

“One day you will no longer be a fool,” she muttered. “I hope I live to see it.” She turned to him, glowering. “I have no wish to lose another match. Go and win it. Win it for me, if you need a reason.”

Jezebel touched his arm. A simple thing, but to Eliot it was electric. It was like they were back in Del Sombra, that he was just normal, nerdy Eliot, and she was sweet, mortal Julie Marks.

She withdrew and was hard, cruel Jezebel again. She turned to Team Wolf. “Or stay,” she hissed. “I shall not be responsible.”

Although it went against every instinct, Eliot climbed the chain link. He’d trust Fiona’s plan. . and Jezebel’s ability to take care of herself.

The Team Wolf boys jumped, landed on the platform, and circled her.

Eliot scampered up to Jeremy, who flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Come on,” Eliot urged. “We’re almost to the top.”

The ribbon of chain link had been nailed to a wooden beam overhead. That beam, in turn, ran straight to a zigzag of stairs. . that would take them to the top, and Team Scarab’s flag.

Robert, Mitch, and Amanda, already limped up those stairs.

They were close to winning. Once they got to their flag, all it would take was either him or Jeremy-it didn’t matter who-to get there as well.

That would make four. The match would end.

Maybe Eliot could stop this before anyone else got hurt.

He glanced down.

The Wolf boys had Jezebel surrounded. She held her hands up in a martial arts stance.

A thin fog blew in and vapors swirled around her.

The smallest Wolf boy (Eliot recognized him from the duel by the fountain) had a wooden club. He darted in, struck her leg-and danced out of her reach.

She fell to one knee, but didn’t cry out.

“Jezebel!” Eliot cried.

Another boy stepped closer, grabbed her injured shoulder.

Jezebel winced, shrugged off the boy’s hold, and backhanded him-off the platform.

She whirled toward Eliot. “Stick to the plan!” she shouted.

Van Wyck moved in-his hand ghostly insubstantial, the bones within visible, his motion trailing increasingly thick fog vapors.

Jezebel deftly avoided his grasp.

She shot Eliot a hate-filled glare. “Go!”

Nothing was worth this, Eliot decided-not winning-not even if it meant flunking out of gym class. Seeing Jezebel fight alone, already injured, he couldn’t stand it.

He started back.

The chain link that Eliot and Jeremy clung to, however, pinged, and the nails holding it to the beam popped out.

They plunged-jerked to a halt and dangled. . one corner tenuously secured by three nails in the beam overhead.

Eliot’s heart hammered in his throat, but still all he could think of was Jezebel.

He searched for her. The fog below, however, made it impossible to see the platform. He heard the Wolf boys moving, grunting; there was the cracking of wood.

There was no choice on which way to go for him, though; he was certain he wasn’t over the platform anymore. Eliot pulled himself up, hand over hand.

Jeremy hauled himself up, too. “I’ll be first to the flag,” Jeremy whispered.

Eliot straddled the beam and offered Jeremy his hand.

A curious look narrowed Jeremy’s eyes as he reached forward and clasped Eliot’s hand.

Eliot pulled.

Jeremy gripped the beam with his other hand and pulled himself up-yanking Eliot hard.

The unexpected motion threw Eliot. His hand slipped from Jeremy’s sweat-slick grasp. . and Eliot tumbled off.

Airborne, panic spiked through Eliot. He was in free fall, arms and legs thrashing.

Three fingers dragged along the chain link-grabbed-and he whipped around, slamming into it.

Overhead, two more nails screeched out.

Jeremy had pulled him off deliberately.

He’d said he had to “be first to the flag.” Was winning so important to Jeremy he was willing to