Lincoln scoffed. “I’d like to see them try.”
Shea and I shared a look. They had semiautomatic rifles. We were weaponless, and Lincoln wasn’t looking so hot, sweating and breathing heavy. If they jumped us, we were getting our asses kicked for sure.
We entered the quad, and I could see right away that the buildings had fallen into disrepair. They were all cracked brick and corrugated metal of different colors, with two large buildings off to the left and a smaller strip of classrooms to the right. The campus must have been an old middle school or something. It was nothing grand like Fallen Academy.
Our guards had walked through the small atrium, and were now standing before an open classroom door.
As we approached, Lincoln stepped in front of me and walked up to the door, peering in. The guys had to step out of the way to avoid his wings. Lincoln must have been satisfied with what he saw because he entered the room, his wings folding back to get through the door.
The guards scowled down at us as we followed him inside, Shea in front of me as I tucked my own wings back to fit.
My eyes fell to my watch. We were only permitted to be here one hour. My gut told me if we overstayed our welcome, they had every right to do something about it. Now that Lincoln had moved out of the way, I could see a cheap card table had been set up with a hand-drawn poster in front. ‘Fight Night Sign-Ups’ was scrawled across it in red paint that dripped to look like blood.
“I knew it would be you, Shelly.” The girl who’d spoken sat behind the desk with a big hairy guy. She was staring at Shea.
Shea gritted her teeth, casting me a glance.
Damn, I wish I knew mind reading, because I had no idea who this bitch was.
The girl stood. She was tall with bright pink hair, and had the death mark tattoo on her wrist that marked her as a Dark Mage. “When they told me some prissy Fallen Academy kids wanted to sign up for Fight Night, I just knew it would be that bitch Shelly.” She winked.
Shea’s breath was coming out in ragged gasps, and I knew it was taking everything within her to not run over, and smack this girl down.
I stepped forward. “It’s Shea, actually. And I’m Brielle. You might want to write that down so you spell it right on our million-dollar check.”
She looked momentarily shocked at my words, but she smoothly covered it with a laugh and looked at her hairy boyfriend. “Oh my God, they are adorable. I can’t wait to pulverize them.”
At her last words, a blackish green magic rose up from her hands and I froze.
Shea had seemed to find her Zen now, stepping forward and holding out her hand. In it was our entrance money. “So where do we sign?” Shea added, ignoring the sickly looking magic exuding from the girl’s hands.
The magic retreated and the girl crossed her arms, looking at the one hundred-dollar bill in Shea’s hand.
“Oh, hun. That was the Tainted Academy price. If you want to enter, it’s going to be a grand. Each.” She grinned as her boyfriend laughed.
Bitch.
“We don’t have that kind of money!” I shouted. This was all a shit show. They weren’t even going to let us enter. How was I going to get my mom out of here now? We’d trained for nothing!
She shrugged. “Then run along, sweetie. Your boy toy isn’t looking so hot.”
I followed her gaze to Lincoln, who was grimacing, sweat rolling down his neck. I’d forgotten how badly being there affected him.
“Do you take Angel Express?” Lincoln asked and whipped out his credit card.
My eyes went wide, as did Pink Hair’s.
“You really want a beatdown that badly?” she scoffed.
Shea and I nodded, which felt stupid considering what she’d just asked us.
“Fine. It’s your funeral.” Leaning forward, she snatched Lincoln’s card, swiping it into an attachment on the end of her phone. She also had a little printer set up next to a cash box.
“I need to see ID,” the boyfriend growled.
Shea and I stepped forward, pulling out our Angel City IDs, which showed our name, school address, and age.
He swiped them into some machine and it started printing.
My gaze went over to Lincoln, he was signing his credit card receipt. I wanted to tell him not to, that I’d never be able to repay him two grand, but he just looked at me and winked.
Ah, the wink. Sigh. Wink number four. Each one was engraved in my heart. I was a sucker for Lincoln Grey’s winks.
“Brielle Atwater,” the hairy boyfriend said, looking at his girlfriend.
Her eyes narrowed on me, and then she grinned. “Mike’s sister, I presume?”