NIGHT
The fighter grew restless with the game. The island fueled her unrest, stoked her anger. Hate was a powerful emotion and the island relished hers; it would twist it for the island’s own pleasure.
It would twist her.
In the end she would destroy the one with murder in her heart. The fighter would serve the island’s end, until the one who wished to harm the island was no more.
Then they both would bleed, and the island would savor every drop.
* * *
From her vantage point in the trees, Carmen studied the players around the fire. Amara sat slightly away from the rest, rolling a small knife through her fingers, listening to Skye talk with a remarkable lack of expression on her face. She’s working hard to be intimidating, Carmen thought acidly as she glared at Amara. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t even take down the deer and had nearly hit Carmen’s foot with her poor throw, a move that infuriated Carmen to no end.
The only one who annoyed Carmen more than Amara was the wiry blonde, Skye. Carmen deeply resented how everyone treated her with respect when she’d done nothing to earn it. She also resented how the leader, Rives, looked at Skye as though she created air. It rankled Carmen that this mouse of a girl turned the leader’s head with the wave of one hand, that she meant so much to Rives he’d asked another boy, Thad, to watch over her when he left, as if she were a gem too precious to lose. This was a weakness for the leader, an obvious vulnerability making him less impressive in Carmen’s eyes. But more than anything else, she resented the power that flowed from Skye, as if she were more important than anyone else—including Carmen. The more she watched Skye from the shadows, the more Carmen detested her.
Carmen had never liked being second place.
* * *
“Carmen.” James spoke softly as he tapped her on the shoulder. He always took care not to startle her.
She turned. “Yes?”
James studied her, how fury flickered in her eyes like firelight. “Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Are you really here to make sure I had dinner?” Her tone matched her eyes.
“No. I am here to make sure you do not do anything that you might regret.”
Her eyes flashed. “And who”—her voice was dangerously low—“are you to tell me what I should do?”
“Your friend. And as your friend, I am saying relax. This is not a competition.”
“Isn’t it?” She smiled in the feral way James had grown accustomed to. “Why do they get to decide what we do? How the days should be spent? How the resources should be used?”
“Because they know more than we do.” James’s tone was flat. “And they will help us live another day.”
“I am the master of my own fate.” Carmen lifted her chin.
“‘Invictus.’” James was not impressed. “As are we all. But they have been here before, and they know the way. I think it would be wise to listen and learn from them.”
“Feel free to be their lackeys,” Carmen snapped. “A trip to some ruins that hold nothing but death? Or stay and babysit that idiot Chuck? Have fun. I choose another path. I’m going to find Lana, the girl who knows more than anyone. Where is she, James?” Carmen’s voice had grown dangerously soft. “I think she knows something. More than those fools. After all, she’s not here, is she?”
James didn’t respond. He didn’t share Carmen’s confidence in Lana. She had not seen what James had: Lana cowering on the beach, terrified of the bear; Lana creeping behind Rives and his friends. No, Lana was not a source of power.
But something on the island was.
Carmen bared her teeth in a smile. “Exactly. Good luck, James. I choose to make my own.”
She stalked off. James watched her go, unsettled. He was wrong; they were not friends. And he wasn’t certain they weren’t now enemies.