The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(20)
Author: Gena Showalter

Each of the women radiated a white-hot tension that blended perfectly with Kaia’s own. All thanks to the very stupid Strider. He wasn’t going to support her. Earlier today Gwen had led her to believe…had made her think…hope…crave…oh, well. Strider hadn’t shown up, even though she and her sisters had waited outside for half an hour and were now late to the meeting.

Stupid, stupid Strider.

Doomed, doomed Kaia.

Well, she had finally written him off and admitted that she was better off without him. He was rejection, humiliation and heartbreak wrapped in a pretty package. She could find another pretty package without all the extras, thank you.

At least Bianka and Gwen would be well-guarded, and that eased her stress somewhat. But if anyone so much as threatened them because of what Kaia had once done, she would turn the Slumber Party Massacre into Blood, Bath and Beyond, a documentary by Kaia Skyhawk.

And if anyone teased Bianka about dating an angel, well, they, too, would have a starring role in that documentary. Sadly, she had a feeling there were going to be a lot of starring roles.

At first glance, Lysander looked every inch the do-gooder. His hair gleamed as if the strands were gold silk. His skin was just as pale with only the faintest hint of rose. He wore a long white robe, his golden wings tucked in, the tops arching over his shoulders. He had no visible weapons. But then, he didn’t need them. He could create a sword of fire from nothing but air. Only after a second glance would the Harpies realize he was a warrior through and through, muscled and brawny, with a ruthless determination to protect what was his.

By then, it’d be too late.

Sabin, well, everyone would know what he was the moment they spotted him: a badass lacking any type of moral compass. He had brown hair and ocher eyes, his features a study of harsh planes and sharp angles. More weapons spilled from his six-foot-seven frame than an entire human army could carry, and his every step reminded her of a dying heartbeat. Thump. Pause, pause. Thump. But, uh, what was with the bullhorn in his hand?

There’d be no teasing Gwen about him, but her little sis would probably have to beat the ladies off him. Sabin was everything Harpies admired. Wicked, ungoverned by society’s rules and way beyond dangerous.

A danger readily apparent, even though he wore a T-shirt that said I’m Not a Gynecologist, but I’ll Take a Look.

Kaia wanted to buy one of those for Strider.

Finally they reached the doors to the auditorium of the elementary school. Yes, an elementary school. In “Brew City,” Wisconsin.

Only this morning had the texts gone out, informing everyone where to go for Game Orientation, and the location had puzzled her. A million years ago, orientation had been held in a wide-open field several miles from civilization. Sure, times had changed. But an elementary school? Really?

After expressing his own puzzlement, Lucien, keeper of Death, had flashed her and Gwen, dropping them off at the school’s front doors. Lysander had flown Bianka in, and Taliyah had simply materialized from what looked to be a thick, dark mist. Girl had developed a new ability, apparently, but when questioned, had refused to give up the deets. Like what the ever-loving hell could she do? Kaia had never, in all her centuries, seen anyone step from a misty doorway of their own creation.

Wasn’t fair, either. Taliyah already had a kick-ass ability. She could shape-shift. Not that she ever used the ability. But now she could do this, too, yet Kaia couldn’t do anything cool.

Pouter! Kaia stopped when she reached the auditorium doors. They were closed, a murmur of voices drifting through the tiny crack between the metal slats. A tremor slid down her spine, vibrating into her limbs.

Taliyah stopped, too. She sheathed her weapons and placed a firm hand on Kaia’s shoulder, her crystalline gaze pointed. “You know I’m with you, no matter what. Right?”

Her heart swelled with love as she shoved the hatchet and blade into their holsters. “Yeah, I know.” Her mother might have written her off, but her sisters never had. They supported her. Through anything, everything.

“Good. Then let’s do this.”

Taliyah pushed open the double doors, the hinges squeaking in protest. Without the barrier, the murmurs became full-blown conversations. Conversations that died as all eyes swung to the newest entrants.

Kaia searched the sea of faces she hadn’t seen in centuries, but didn’t spot her mother. Or any other Skyhawk for that matter, despite the fact that there were close to a hundred females watching her through narrowed eyes. She raised her chin. Several of the ladies reached for sword or dagger hilts, but none so much as stepped toward her.

All that hate-filled attention should have intimidated her, she supposed. However, Kaia found herself delighting in it. She was strong, stronger than ever, and she would prove herself. Finally.

Finally they would know she was worthy.

Tabitha could take her “almost improved” and shove it up her—

“Well, well. Look who decided to join us, everyone. Kaia the Disappointment. And company, of course.” The familiar voice echoed from the walls. Juliette the Eradicator. “What a surprise. We thought you’d opted not to enter, which would have been a very smart move on your part. But then, you’ve only got half a brain, isn’t that right?”

Annnd here were the twins-only-got-half jokes again.

Juliette went on, “I feel obligated to warn you that you will lose, and you will not have fun when you do. Or survive. Not that I’d know anything about that. I’ve taken home the gold in the last eight games. But I guess you wouldn’t know that, seeing how you weren’t invited to them.”

Bianka growled, Taliyah tensed and Kaia gritted her teeth as she faced her nemesis.

Juliette stood in the center of the stage. Tall, toned and stunning, she had shoulder-length black hair and eyes of the purest lavender. She wore a tank top and a short skirt that revealed the tattoos inked into her legs. Ancient godly symbols that bespoke revenge. Loosely translated, each one meant “the redheaded bitch must suffer.” Nice.

“Pretty soon, you’ll have to kiss your gold goodbye,” Kaia told her. “It’s mine this time around.”

Juliette grinned slowly, smugly. “Actually, no. No, I won’t. In case you didn’t know, I won’t be participating this year. I’m running things. In other words, I’m top dog. The elders met, decided, and I am now the be-all and end-all.”

That so did not bode well for Kaia’s victory. As the woman who called the shots, Juliette would decide who broke the rules and who didn’t, and in the end, she would tabulate the final scores. No wonder Kaia had been invited to participate. Nothing was stacked in her favor.