sorcery - CHAPTER FOUR

this is the fourth chapter of my teenage/young adult novel, "sorcery". i'd really appreciate feedback to help me grow as a writer. !TW - foul language!

CHAPTER FOUR

Vixen’s sensitive fox’s ears were still ringing as she slashed the air with another sweep of her claws. That one was for Evelyn Bexley. They’d all been for Evelyn Bexley. Fuck that bitch. Fuck her. She’d made Vixen feel insecure, powerless. She’d disarmed her. Shit like that didn’t happen – Vixen was the best at what she did. Because when she wasn’t…that’s when things got messy. When people started to hurt her.

Vixen let very few people close enough to take that chance – in combat, and in her personal life. People getting close was dangerous. And stripping Vixen of her weapon…that was far too close.

It was embarrassing, a bitch like that besting her. So what she’d still had her claws to defend herself? Vixen Rarkedz did not defend. And she did not get disarmed.

She would crush Evelyn Bexley during initiation. Destroy her. Let the bitch know she won this time. Let her get complacent.

She’d get what was coming for her when Vixen sliced her to pieces in those gods-damned trials.

No-one beat Vixen Rarkedz in a fight and got away with it. No-one was better than her. And no-one – ever! – made her feel this way.

Not without regretting it later.

“Time!”
Vixen sheathed her claws and stood straight, glancing around the arena with a disdainful curled lip.

She hadn’t deigned to fight with Evelyn Bexley today. Why should she bother with her, when she had her own training to do?

And maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to risk losing again.

Bexley had paired with Thunder, though neither of them seemed to have gained an advantage throughout their fighting. Other than Thunder’s singular use of his power, Vixen gathered that it had been uneventful.

The pale girl, Thalia, had been training with Catherine Grassingdon. The daughter of the grossly wealthy Grassingdon family, Vixen guessed. Though, considering Catherine was a female, she doubted the family would bother paying ransom money to get her back.

Not that Vixen had ever considered how much money she might be able to squeeze out of kidnapping the bitch, or anything like that…

She didn’t like Catherine. Something about her seemed…off, like she had more secrets than she was letting on, perhaps even to her friends. It was a little unsettling.

Vixen had never fought her – not even during training –, though she’d seen her fight, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Evelyn Bexley was good, but she relied on her powers to be great. Catherine Grassingdon’s weapon skills were almost frightening.

Almost.

Catherine’s talents were impressive, but she could be disarmed eventually. If they met in combat, Vixen could probably defeat her with pure animal instincts, since she doubted Grassingdon would have the ability to de-claw her.

She’d have to fight hard, though. You could never be too sure with people you didn’t trust. Or maybe just with people in general.

Vixen glanced across at Catherine, her fringe mostly covering her eyes to disguise her peeking. The female’s wavy, chin-length hair was drenched; blonde strands hanging limply around her face. The biting cold had brought a flush to the top of Catherine’s high cheekbones, and her straight nose was tipped with pink, against her pale complexion. She was taller than Vixen, though not by much, and her build was slender and lean, the training uniform hugging her figure. Steely grey eyes were unmuted by the pouring rain, but clouded with thought – perhaps of the secrets Grassingdon was hiding.

Vixen found it frustrating how little she knew about any of her opponents. But Catherine Grassingdon was the most worrying – people with mysteries often led to unwanted surprises.

Vixen hated surprises.

With a scowl, she stalked across the arena to the others. Thunder had hauled Spark to his feet, though the fire elemental was still shivering, even with Thunder’s jacket draped over his shoulders.

He would’ve been able to handle the rain and cold, even if it dampened his powers, if he hadn’t stayed up most of the night in Puppet’s room, drying her tears. The girl had never wanted to join Web, though she hadn’t had much choice when she was found by Ariachna a few years ago, discarded in a forest, silent despite the organization’s best efforts to make her talk. Even now, she barely spoke a word.

Spark didn’t show kindness to many people – he was selfish like that. But for those he cared about, he would sacrifice everything. He cared about Puppet as if she were his own sibling, something he had left behind when banished from Elemental.

Only Vixen and Thunder knew Spark’s story.

Only they knew his guilt.

Thunder had been in Puppet’s room too, but he’d fallen asleep despite his good intentions. Back in the dorm, Vixen hadn’t wanted to intrude. She liked the girl well enough, cared about her even, and Puppet wasn’t afraid of her like she feared everyone else, but Vixen had never been good with children, even her own little brother. She was too harsh, too impatient. When they cried, it pissed her off. When they became happy over the simplest crap, she had an urge to ruin it for them.

She hadn’t had a happy childhood, so why should anyone else?

But it was unfair to think like that, so she made sure to stay away. It was better for everyone – she didn’t feel so bitter, and no more tears were shed than they had to be.

So Vixen had gotten a good night’s sleep, while Spark comforted a seven year old.

She supposed she was the selfish one really. That was what her older brother always said when she would remind Cub just how hated she and Fox had been as children, just how hated he would be if he ever left Web. For fuck’s sake, Vix, he’s a fucking kid, let him be happy, Fox used to tell her.

Vixen had struggled with that, so she’d just stayed away. It was hard not to take out her pain on the brother who was too young to remember it. It was hard not to be jealous.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ariachna guiding Puppet away from the seats and back towards the airship, likely for a private training session. Ariachna would use Puppet’s power to her full advantage as soon as she became a full member of the organization. And that would happen far sooner than expected if Vixen and the others passed initiation.

She bit the right side of her lip with the point of a sharp canine, not realizing how hard until she drew blood. It ran over her tongue, warm against the chill. She glanced at Spark.

“We’ve got one week of training sessions left before the trials. One. If it rains, you’ll be useless, so let’s pray to the gods for some bright skies tomorrow, prick.”

Thunder gave her a disapproving look.

“Don’t get angry, Vix. He can’t help it. We don’t get annoyed when you complain about loud noises, so don’t be mean about this. We understand that you have sensitive ears-”

Vixen interrupted him,

“Yeah, thanks for that, you know warning me before you made that gods-awful racket to freak out Bexley.”

Thunder bowed his head,

“Oh. Sorry. I thought you wanted me to do that…”

Vixen sighed.

“I do, Teddy. I’m just in a pissy mood, that’s all. It’s not your fault, or Spark’s, I just…” she trailed off, not sure where to go from there. Shaking her head, she glanced back at Spark.

‘Come on. Let’s get you back to the dorm before you pass out or die or something, loser.”

Thunder wrapped his arm more tightly around Spark’s shoulders, helping him to walk.

“Thunder, I’m cold,” Spark complained, drawing out Thunder’s name like a whiny teenager, which, Vixen supposed, he was. They were all only sixteen, other than Thunder, who was fifteen, though he turned sixteen soon enough to be considered eligible for initiation.

Thunder pulled Spark a bit closer, nodding slowly.

“I know, S. Come on.”

Spark had never minded Thunder being close to him, though Vixen knew he took care not to lead him on. Spark had been Thunder’s gay awakening (something the elemental never teased him about, though he clearly took it as a compliment) and Thunder’s crush on Spark had lasted a year or so, before he eventually moved on. They’d always been close, but more like brothers now that Thunder was looking at different people. Even so, Spark had always made sure to never say anything that might make Thunder think his feelings had been reciprocated. Hurting Thunder was off-limits, something both Vixen and Spark had decided in a mutual agreement.

Thunder was to be protected. If anyone upset him, Spark had mentioned a few times that he would hunt them for sport, or something equally gruesome.

Back at the dorm, they shrugged off their coats, rain from the material dripping onto the floor outside their room. Thunder, who had given his coat to Spark, just pulled off his training shirt, wringing it out as water pooled beneath him and soaked into the airship’s interior. Spark leaned against the wall, hugging himself and shivering, as Thunder untied his knee-high boots, since Spark’s fingers were shaking too much to do so for himself.

It was payback, really, for all the times Spark had tied Thunder’s shoes over the past three years. Thunder still couldn’t tie laces yet, but fortunately for him, Spark was army-efficient at tying them into elemental military knots (when he wasn’t too cold to move his hands).

Well, at least Thunder could untie them now. It had taken two years for Vixen to teach him that.

Once they had stripped off their coats and boots (and shirts, in Thunder’s case), they stumbled, sodden, into the dormitory. After a few minutes, they’d all changed into warm, dry clothes, and had assumed their usual positions: Vixen sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, Spark laying on Thunder’s bed, with his head in the male’s lap. He was wearing one of Thunder’s jumpers, and it practically swamped him, though at least it kept him warm. He was falling asleep, Thunder stroking his hair soothingly.

“Wake up, S. Hey. Up!”
Vixen snapped her fingers in front of Spark’s face and he groaned, opening one eye. Thunder looked annoyed, and pulled him closer protectively.

“Vixie, let him sleep. He’ll get sick.”

Vixen sighed and backed off, watching the window. The airship would take off any minute now, and they’d be flying again, to some other forest and some other arena and some other training session: their lives for the next seven days.

And then initiation would begin. It would determine whether Vixen, Spark and Thunder could stay together with Web for the rest of their lives, or whether they would be separated from the organization and each other by failing initiation.

Vixen knew they could pass. She knew they were strong enough, and she knew they each had their own violent training. But if their opponents used their weaknesses to their advantage: Vixen’s fragile heightened senses, Spark’s struggle with everything cold and wet, and Thunder’s gentle kindness…

Vixen couldn’t let that happen.

These people were her chosen family, and nothing could change that. She would win for her present, and for her future.

And none of those stupid bitches she’d been put against were going to get in her way.