Page 122 of Wings of Ebony
He’s close now—so close I can smell his stench. His mug is hateful, lips in a permanent grimace. His pasty grayish skin, like all the Ghizonians have, is dull in the lamplight, but his is extra flaky. Or something.
I hate him.
“A-ah,” he says, wagging a finger at me. “Now let’s not go pointing fingers. That was the Chancellor’s doing before I met him. Here, I’m practically following orders.” He smiles.
Every second he draws breath, I hate him more.
Confess.
“That’s what you call this? Following orders? Flooding East Row with drugs, hanging out at community centers, stalking schools, all the while holing up in Ghizon?”
A smirk splits his lips as if he’s savoring this moment. Satisfied with himself like he has me cornered or some shit. I’ll be wiping that grin off your face. I swallow the spit I wanna hurl at his mug.
“Well,” he says as if he’s amused, “when you put it like that… I’ll certainly take credit where credit is due.”
I’m up on my feet, inches from him. “Ain’t no other way to put it. You bleeding my block. You got a whole world in Ghizon to stir up shit, but you come here.”
His skin is even stranger up close.
I slam a finger at his chest. “WHY!”
He grabs my wrist. Tight.
For a second he’s so angry his head looks like a pimple that needs to pop. But as his grip tightens on my metal arms, his eyes grow wide.
Yeah, be scared.I shove him. “WHY?”
Confess.
He stumbles back and his jaw tightens. He points at me and the onyx on his wrists swirl with energy.
“You wanna throw down?” I roll up my sleeves and my cuffs gleam in the evening sun. “Go ahead. But before the light leaves your eyes, youwillsay what you did and tell me why.”
“You’re a waste of space, just like your mother.” He shoots first and I dart sideways, a streak of light flying by with a crack.
I fire back, flames rolling from my fingertips. They barrel through the air and catch his shirt. Flames lick up his sides and he growls before putting them out with a spray of water.
We circle. He spins and stretches light with his hands into the shape of a machete.Oh shit.He slashes and I jerk left, dodging. It flies by with awhoosh. Energy tears through my palms like barbed wire and I shoot, aiming for his head. He spins sideways a second too late and my magic slashes his cheek. He cups his face, gasping.
“Give it up, old man, you ain’t winning here.”
His blade slashes left, then right, as he steps toward me. The weapon’s heat swishes past me, so close. So very close, like dancing with fire. I step back and my heel catches on a crack in the pavement. I slam the ground, pain shooting up my spine.
I try to get up, but his blade is over me like a guillotine. It comes down fast and I shield my head.Clang.His machete slams into my wrist, his full weight bearing down overhead.
Up, I gotta get up.
Screeech.His blade scrapes my arms as I push, straining to force him backward.
“Ahhhh!”He’s so strong.I push, remembering everything I’m fighting for. I thrust with all my might and he falls back, his blade fizzling out.
I gulp down air while he’s on the ground, recovering from the blow.
P-pop, pop-p, pop, pop.
I fire blasts one after another, my magic slamming into him with ahisssss.He grimaces, clutching each singed spot. I fire again, harder, faster. His body jerks, convulsing with each hit. He tries to get up, but my magic knocks him back down. I push forward, blasting blow after blow, not letting up.
Something behind me that sounds like a door claps closed.
