I collapsed into the shitty picnic chair and grabbed the phone. “You okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” His voice sounded groggy.
No. I needed a five-hour nap, chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and a million dollars.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I lied.
“Listen, I sent another healer. She’s going to cover the next two fights, and then Noah and I will come back for your big finish. You got this. We’re bringing your mom home.”
He sent a new healer? Who is it?
His pep talk totally made me cry, tears streaming down my cheeks as I fought to keep my emotions in check. “Everything hurts,” I admitted.
He sighed. “I know. You need to reach that point where you’re fighting with something other than your body. Your mind needs to take over. The hurt will heal, you just need to power through.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded legit.
“Okay.”
“Brielle, I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He sounded tired and defeated. I knew it was killing him not to be there with me every second. It would kill me to not be with him too.
“I love you too,” I told him and hung up.
After taking a deep chug of water, I checked in with my best friend.
“How you doing? Lincoln said he’s sending another healer for the next few fights, and he and Noah will come for the last two and fully patch us up.”
She looked awful, bruised and bloody, probably how I’d look if I checked the mirror, but her spirit wasn’t broken, that I could see. She hated this school, these asshole kids. They’d made their mark on her in her short time here, and she hadn’t forgotten.
“I’m ready for a three-week vacation in Hawaii, but I’m good.” She grinned and her healed lip cracked, dripping blood onto her teeth.
“Looks like you girls are in need of a healer,” a familiar female voice trilled.
I spun in my seat to see Mrs. Greely standing there, clutching her tan purse and looking like a poodle in a pit bull shop.
“Mrs. Greely! You came.” I stood and pulled her in for a hug even though it hurt. When she moved back, she smoothed my hair.
“Of course, dear. Raphael had to bribe the border guards a bit, but I’m here.”
Raphael took part in bribing Demon City border guards? Now, that I would have paid to see.
Mrs. Greely made quick work of resetting and healing my pinky, then moved on to Shea’s elbow. It was hit with some type of damaging spell. A ton of these students were Dark Mages, and they’d clearly been throwing premade spells their advanced teachers had crafted.
During my most recent fight, I’d squared off with a Centaur, hence the split eyebrow. He’d kicked me right in the face! We were lucky each competitor had submitted and we’d yet to have to kill anyone, but I doubted the entire night would go that way.
Shea leaned into me. “The others are getting tired too. We need to be explosive, go big right off the bat, and end these next few quickly.”
It was a good plan, but harder when reality didn’t pan out that way.
“What do you have in mind?” I mused, thinking she may have some plan to use our weapons. The announcer had stopped asking us to put them in the center of the room after it became obvious Sera was loyal to only me.
“Remember that black whip thing you did on the Succubus demon?” Shea recalled.
I shivered. I hated that I was using my dark magic to win these fights. It was also depleting my energy quickly.
“Yeah, assuming I can just do that again,” I retorted.
“Next few fights, the second the buzzer sounds, just lash out with that whip. I’ll create a magical shield of sorts to keep any spells from hitting us.”
It was a good plan that hinged on me being able to just conjure up the whip like I did it all the time.
‘You don’t need the whip. Let me at them and I’ll cut them to pieces!’ Sera screamed.
I snickered to myself. I didn’t like to admit it, but my dark magic was extremely easy to call forth now, so I was betting I could do it. Sera was amazing, but using her required me to get very close to my opponent to cause serious damage. I needed to save Sera’s power for our final fight. She was susceptible to fatigue the same as me, and she wasn’t getting power boost lozenges.
“Worth a try,” I told Shea.
“Shall we bring our pretty angels back in the ring!” the announcer boomed.
He’d nicknamed us “angels,” which couldn’t be farther from the truth.