Prey and Mercy

IV. Garden of Snakes

"I didn't see you at the game." I say and throw a punch. My fist collides with the glove and seconds later a swift pain plows through my arm. I'm hardly fast enough to through my left arm before I get socked.

Harper sighs. It's long and filled with thoughts I couldn't understand. "I saw you."

"Stalking the next ascendant, hm?"

My head smacks the ground first and then my shoulder blades, elbows. I should have seen his sweep.

"I could have helped before you went running into the forest." He all but yanks the gloves off his hand. From where I lay his black insignia's glisten against the light of the sunroof. They snake up to his elbows, lower than Mineras.

"You don't even know what I was doing."

I don't tell him that I can't remember what happened last night after the game, after I left. What comes to be in snippets is me stumbling threw the forest, my family blade tumbling threw my fingers, and the tip of an arrow against my heart. Obviously I didn't die, Prey never finished me off.

The next thing I knew I was being swaddled in the backseat of Minera's car while Idris ran his fingers through my hair, scowling at a bruise that had blossomed against my scalp. We spent the rest of the night back at his place, watching movies and attempting to make mortal food like buttered popcorn and marshmallow rice squares.

I don't try to remember. I know nothing good can come of it.

"Let's trade." Harper throws the gloves on my chest, takes a step back like a disappointed parent. "You suck at this."

Harper and I have had combat studies since I can remember. It's the one class I actually think I'm good at, but he says otherwise.

I have the gloves on my hand, straps tightened when the coach blows the whistle. Harper shoots me a look but I know he's not angry, just brooding. In a few days he'll sneak through my window or meet me on the steps all mysterious-like to tell me about it. That's usually after Minera threatens to roast it out of him, for my sake.

We huddle around the coach, Mr. Pates, watching as he holds the roster in his hands.

"Next week our class will couple with the other lesser gods of the academy. It's important to have variety in training, it develops expertise. The classes I have invited contain the children of Odphy-

The goddess of Life and Charity.

"Tiarus-"

The god of Hunting and Battle.

"Daemon-"

The god of the Mischief and Pleasure.

"And Ruris."

The goddess of Thunder and Equity.

In other words the monstrous Prey, Marjorie, Samuel, and my beloved Idris. All in one room.

"I'd advice you study up on the gods, learn what they can and cannot do. Find their weakness, exploit them. And bring this knowledge with you to class next week so I don't have to see any of you get kicked on your ass. Your children of death...act like it."

Mr. Murdoch Pates is a lesser god of authority and triumph. He teaches every combat class for every crest and its no wonder he succeeds. He's got a goddess looking over his shoulder and gold insignia's that stretch up to his collarbone.

No one's ever asked how many people he's killed. No has ever been brave enough and I doubt Pates would give a simple answer without turning it into a morality lesson.

He scratches his red beard and dismisses the class with a wave. He's had enough of us today.

"I'm sorry I took up all the training time." I say to Harper as we pick up our bags. "Prey's got me on edge lately."