Page 72 of Two Who Live On

“It’s quite the travesty,” Jamie’s words echoed along the infuriated surface of Kenzo’s mind as he sprinted faster. “Your entire homeroom coven landed in the showcase, yet only three made it into the finale. It’s not unsurprising, though. Given your classes lackluster branches or lacking branches.”

“He thinks they’re so great, I’ll knock all six of those Whitehurst Washouts from the arena first.” Kenzo popped static at Tiffany Sparks’ familiar and Harrison Heywood’s vials.

“Not Tiffany,” Gael shouted beside me.

It didn’t matter if the others hadn’t said a word to Kenzo. In his mind, a war had been waged, and he wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him or his coven.Mostly him, though.Every time he pictured the disappointment on his classmates’ faces, he quickly buried it.

“Looks like we’ve lost our first two competitors. Knocked out simultaneously by Kenzo Ito,” Chanelle announced, resisting a desire to sulk. “Great, at this rate, he’ll knock my entire homeroom out before they have a chance to show off their talents.”

“Screwthem. If they can’tholdtheir own againstone pathetic hex witch, they don’t deservemy help.” Jamie sneered, opening a whirlpool portal and abandoning his homeroom that Kenzo quickly eviscerated. He didn’t give any of Chanelle’s students an opportunity to think, strategize, or cast.

Across the arena, Jamius and Caleb worked in tandem to knock another pair of witches out of the arena.

“Five minutes in, and we’ve gone from twenty-four to twelve,” Chanelle announced, a bit depressed only one of her homeroom coven students remained.

One I didn’t want to participate after the way he’d attacked Tara.

“Overmydead body will thisbranchless fuckearn a top place during the showcase.” Jamie’s mind boomed as a portal opened behind Caleb. “After whathepulled.I should kill him.”

I flinched, resisting the urge to intervene when Jamie began the same assault on Caleb he’d used against Tara. His sporadic rage bordered on psychotic tendencies. I’d seen this behavior from both ends of the spectrum. Some teens outgrew it as their minds and bodies developed; others, like, too many people, sank into that enraged hatred, and it became too suffocating to linger in their minds.

The proctors’ minds all buzzed with caution, at the ready. Most of the enchanters in the arena either held little concern—having faced worse themselves—or boredom by how the Novak kid held back against some no name. I ground my teeth.

Jamius sent two clones to help Caleb, but they ended up sucked into a whirlpool and knocked back into Jamius by Jamie. He had no time for any of the other competitors until he’d thoroughly proven how insignificant Caleb was. He wanted Caleb to understand the insurmountable difference in their abilities, by class, branch, and ranking. Each strike knocked Caleb closer and closer to the edge of the arena.

His footing slipped, and my stomach twisted, filled with guilt at how desperately I wished he’d tumble out of bounds so the beating would end. Caleb didn’t, though. Between his determination to change the tides of combat and Jamie’s craving to indulge in the sanctioned mayhem, Caleb remained in bounds, taking so many strikes I’d lost count. Another Jamius copy ran full force, ready to land a surprise strike but ended up transported out of the arena and thrown into the audience, where he splattered.

“Scaredy-Copycat is putting up a good fight, but he’s at fifteen duplicates and doesn’t have a branch or the root proficiency to handle those whirlpools.” Kenzo stood at the other end of the arena, studying the battle between Jamie and Caleb while contending with four other competitors who’d grouped together. “They’re using Recheeta George’s strategy. Pathetic but also effective. Dammit.”

Ugh. Him and his nicknames. Layla’s strategy had failed when Kenzo shocked everyone by collaborating, yet these four possessed perfect long-distance branches to catch and block his disruption hexes.

Each painful strike Jamie belted against Caleb drew my attention. Light pelting hits against his face, sharp, precise jabs into his ribs, and heavy assaults against his calves meant to drop him. Jamie didn’t want Caleb running. Fighting. Jamie just wanted everyone to see where Caleb belonged, beneath him. Jamie wanted Caleb on his knees, begging and broken.

I stood up, storming down the stadium steps because whether I was the only psychic with a clear understanding of what was happening or not, I wouldn’t endure another second. I’d sooner see one of my students disqualified or have this entire showcase called into question before I allowed another second.

“Telekinesis won’t move his whirlpools.” Caleb wheezed. “Sensory is an obvious no go. Levitation can’t escape when his portals chase me. I’ve got to think of something.”

I leapt over the rail guard. Caleb didn’t need a plan. I wouldn’t sit idle, hopeful and wishing and believing a second time. I paused, lost in how I’d failed Tara during her fight. If I’d intervened, shown my disgust for the tactics. Maybe…maybe it’d have been enough to keep Jamie out of the finals, away from others.

“Worthless. Piece. Of. Trash.” Jamie continued his assault.

I flew closer, finding my pursuit held back.

“Not yet,” Milo thought, locking my stance with precise telekinesis. “Give him the chance you’ve given others. Believe in your student.”

“You have no idea what you’re—”

“Enough.” Caleb’s mind surged above everyone at the academy. His entire body vibrated, shattering my telepathy from linking anywhere in the arena. The proctors appeared frazzled, frozen, but remained where they were.

Every single whirlpool Jamie created vanished instantly.

Caleb pulsed telekinesis, which knocked Jamius and two others nearby out of bounds.

“A perfected banishment.”“Impossible.”

“No way, from a branchless witch?”

“I’ve been refining my roots for years, and this child—”

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