03 Saints (40 page)

I turned away from the funeral and went to where Daniel and I trained. I sat down in the sand and watched the shipping barge bob in time to the waves lapping against it. I was there for only a minute when I was joined by another. Instead of Alex, who I had been expecting, it was River. She sat down next to me and looked out over the barge.

“It’s not your fault,” River said.

“It’s not yours, either,” I said. I laughed once, without humor. “We should throw an ‘it’s not your fault’ party, so we can all feel better.”

River smiled. “Maybe when Quinn is dead.”

“Maybe…”

“I came to warn you specifically,” River said.

“About what?”

“You know all that business about Elizabeth suspecting someone else holding Quinn’s leash…”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Elizabeth only suspected someone, because she overheard Quinn talking about you on the phone. It sounded as there was a plan in motion. This challenge could be part of it.”

“The only group who would plan out an elaborate capture is the Seekers. They’re the only ones who track people down, so to speak,” I said. “They tracked me for two years once.”

She looked intrigued by the news I had been tracked for so long, but unsurprised I had chosen the Seekers as the culprit. “The thought has crossed my mind,” she agreed.

“Awesome,” I said.

“Just be careful…and stay with your friends. I know you can fight, but don’t take any chances you don’t have to.”

“I usually don’t have to take chance anywhere. It doesn’t matter who I’m with or where I’m at, chance finds me,” I said.

“So you should be doubly careful,” she said. “I do not wish to bury anymore friends.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I agreed.

River looked at me with an expectant expression on her face. I realized she wasn’t going to leave, until I returned to the school. I sighed and stood, accepting her protectiveness as par-for-the-course after what had happened with Elizabeth. Everyone would be feeling more protective; it was only natural; even more so for River, if she held some unspoken debt to Elizabeth’s mission.

River was only content when I was in the common area with the kids and Alex and surrounded by members of Reaper’s generals. The generals, excluding those guarding the doors to Quinn and Reaper, kept moving from one group to the other, to discuss what had happened and to go over their next move. They encouraged the lesser members to be strong and wait out the fight…they encouraged loyalty.

I watched them, wondering if a traitor was in their midst. Shawn had admitted to Elizabeth to taking Quinn to Compton, but that could have been in the hopes that Quinn would kill Elizabeth; it could have been a setup. If I had to suspect Shawn, didn’t I also have to suspect Sara? They were twins, inseparable when they weren’t carting people to their various destinations. If one was betraying the group, the other had to be involved. But why did that feel too easy? Preacher was gone, but what better alibi than being away? He could run things from a cellphone. River seemed adamant, but could her story of another spy be a means to trick me later? Moira was impossible to read…King had been at Lorian’s house when I had first met him. They all seemed like likely suspects; the nature of their work made suspicion only stronger.

The doubt, the questions, circled my mind for hours. It had me feeling tense and a scowl dominated my face. The kids maintained their banter and joking, to keep things light, but even they didn’t mess with me or try to pull me out of my thoughtful repose.

Finally, as dusk descended on the school, the kids left, taking with them their laughter and their distraction. The number of people at the school swelled in size as others from all across L.A. came to watch the fight – even those who normally kept to secluded lifestyles were curious what would happen. Word had spread quickly and there were more than a few people interested in the outcome of the fight.

It was as the new people mingled in with the familiar faces that I realized Spider hadn’t left with the kids. He ran around the room, making connections and forging deals. I contemplated forcing him to leave, but I knew him better than to think it would do anything beyond make him more determined to stay. He had made up his mind…just like I had made up mine. I would just have to keep an eye on him once the fighting started.

Not long after the kid’s departure, the Watchers in the room started to move out of the common area in pairs and groups. They moved down the halls, creating lots of noise throughout the school. Jokes, music, playful flirting and banter circled the fall air. The feeling in the air was charged and full of excitement; it was almost as if I was the carnival or some other festive event. I got up, to follow them to the source of their coming amusement, but Alex didn’t move.

“I can’t watch it,” she admitted when I turned back for her.

I understood the feeling.

“Okay,” I said.

She bit her lip but didn’t answer. I could tell she wanted to change her mind and join me, but her anger and her fear kept her in place.

I joined the people moving downward, feeling odd at leaving her alone. I had to see, though. I had to know how the fight turned out. Ahead of me, Spider circled around people, collecting bets on the match. He looked completely natural – everyone accepted his presence, as if he had always been a part of the Saints.

Daniel and King were gone when I got to the dirt tunnel. The silver door was open and empty. The ruined desk was the only proof that Reaper had been in the room. I followed the crowd through the tunnels, curious about the one room in the school I had yet to see. My curiosity was not disappointed.

The doors that led to the arena were massive. Silver and a foot thick, they stretched up ten feet from floor to ceiling. They were open but transmitted a feeling of magnitude, respect, and ultimate appreciation for how serious the Saints took what happened inside. Though the people were festive and cheerful, as they walked the dirt hall, they knew the consequences of the fight well. The doors were a reminder.

Inside, the dirt hall opened out to a large circular chamber. Rows of seats surrounded a dugout pit that was closed in by silver barbed wire. The seats were dug out of the earth and topped with concrete. At full capacity, the room looked as if it could hold four hundred. From the way people were starting to line the back of the room, I knew that the room was maxed out beyond capacity.

I looked around for a place to sit, figuring I would end up lining the wall as well, and saw Daniel wave at me from a bench at the bottom of the stairs. Next to him were Reaper’s generals. King sat on his right, while an empty seat was to his left. No one dared approach Daniel to take the seat from him.

“I saved you a seat,” Daniel said when I joined him.

“Thanks,” I said.

I sat next to him and took his hand. His thoughts were calm and confident, surprising me. He did not harbor the same doubts I did. I wondered if it was because of a vision, or trust in Reaper’s abilities. I would have liked both. He looked back at the milling crowd, searching for a familiar face.

“Alex?” he asked.

“Didn’t want to come,” I said.

“Ah,” he said, as if he had expected as much.

River stood as he spoke. The people in the room stopped talking and took what seats were left as she did. She didn’t say anything to calm them; they knew it was time. Expectant excitement filled the air. On the opposite side of the room, I saw the two men who followed Quinn everywhere. They had smirks on their faces, as if they thought they were about to inherit the world.

When the silence had spread to even the most enthused of the crowd, River spoke. Her voice was quiet and precise, but everyone in the room heard her words.

“There has been a challenge issued today. The fighters must fight to the death. And, as Quinn is the challenger, Reaper has been given the choice of weapon. He has chosen knives. Use of talent is not permitted – to do so is to forfeit. We abide by the rules of the fight. It ends here,” she said.

The heightened tension of the room swirled around me. I felt my heartbeat increase with her words.

“Bring them out,” she commanded.

Two doors on opposite sides of the pit opened at the same time. Reaper walked out of the door to my left, while Quinn walked out of the door to my right. They were both stripped to the waist and were carrying silver knives. Reaper’s dog tags were around his neck, a contrast to his pale skin. He didn’t look up at the crowd; he kept his eyes focused on Quinn.

Quinn, however, waved to people, as if he were about to perform something a lot less deadly. I felt my hands clench at his smile and his obvious disregard for the life he had taken. No one cheered as they entered; the room remained silent and still. It was a great pause before the coming storm.

Reaper stopped exactly in the middle of the circular pit and waited for Quinn to stop waving at people. He held his knife casually in his hand, but his muscles were coiled tightly, ready to move at a second’s notice. Quinn stepped in front of him, his knife held just as casual. He coldly smiled at Reaper, a threat hidden in the depths of his eyes. Reaper smiled back, the threat in his face more evident.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, without warning, Quinn lunged forward. His knife slashed at Reaper’s belly. Reaper jumped out of the way of the blow and returned with his own slash. Quinn ducked the blow and returned with a kick to Reaper’s legs. The kick connected. Reaper hit the ground with the force and used his momentum to roll out of the way of Quinn’s follow through lunge. Reaper rolled back to his feet and waited for Quinn to attack him again. Quinn obliged, jabbing at Reaper’s throat with the knife. Reaper stepped back in time to dodge the blow, but not entirely. The knife cut in to his chest and silver blood started leaking from the wound. It was nothing more than a serious scratch, but enough to make Reaper angry.

He lashed out at Quinn as Quinn recovered from the blow and a gash appeared on Quinn’s arm. Quinn moved out of range of Reaper’s next attack, a jab that was a bit higher, and looked down at his bleeding arm. He almost looked shocked he had been hurt.

Reaper charged Quinn without pause, and the pair hit the dirt. Quinn caught Reaper’s wrist as Reaper made for a low jab. Quinn returned with his own jab. Reaper caught Quinn’s wrist, and they fought for the upper hand. They rolled on the ground kicking at each other, trying to keep the tip of their opponent’s blade from coming in contact with their skin.

Reaper finally kicked Quinn off of him. Quinn rolled on to his back, the wind knocked out of him. Reaper didn’t hesitate. He moved to Quinn and stabbed him in the chest. Reaper pulled the knife out and stabbed him again. Blood bubbled to Quinn’s lips. Quinn tried to say something, but his words were cut short. His body went limp and his eyes lost their light.

Reaper rocked back on his heels. His back moved in time to his heavy breathing. A low whisper floated through the arena as people talked about the dramatic conclusion of the fight. It felt so sudden.

Reaper stood. The blood from his chest wound dripped down to his stomach. His black hair had come out of its rubber band and the left side of his face was covered in dirt. I had never seen him look so human.

“Is there anyone else who would like to challenge me?!” Reaper yelled to the room.

The whispers cut off abruptly.

“This is your last chance! After today, there will be no more challenges! The Saints is my group…my vision! Not his!” He pointed at Quinn. “Not yours! If you don’t agree with that vision, leave! I will not tolerate this sort of backroom betrayal again! So, is there anyone who would like to challenge me?!”

He waited a long moment. His eyes swept the crowd for dissenters. I saw him look directly at the pair who normally followed Quinn. Both men looked at the ground, their faces full of fear.

“Good,” he said. “Because now, more than ever, I need you on my side. I need brave people, who are committed to the mission of peace I have always stood behind. We are about to take on the brothers. We are about to end the war and stop the hunting. What we have always fought for is about to become a reality. Are you with me?”

The room erupted in to cheers. People jumped to their feet to show their support. Those who didn’t agree with Reaper’s vision were either pretending or quietly slipped out of the arena, before anyone remembered their opinions from before the fight.

I clapped along with the others and stood as Daniel stood. Reaper accepted our cheers with a small smile; then he bent down and took hold of Quinn’s shoulders. He pulled Quinn’s body on to his shoulder and walked out of the pit. Conversations took the place of the cheering. People started moving toward the exit as they talked. Spider started running through crowd collecting money as he went.

“Talk about an easy con!” he said. “Always bet on the guy who grew up stealing from people. It’s a sure win!” He chortled as he passed us.

“He’s got a point,” Daniel said, gently pushing me toward the door.

“I know I always bet on the street kid,” I agreed.

“Are you flirting with me?” Daniel asked.

“I guess I am…in a weird way,” I admitted.

“Yes,” he agreed.

I let out a long sigh. “I’m glad that went the way it did,” I said.

“Me, too, as I promised Reaper I would challenge Quinn should he loose,” Daniel said. “He trusts Moira…but, well, I am his oldest friend.”