The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)(103)

"This is the high council of the Warriors of Light," said Trey. He pointed to each of them in turn. "Master Jameson, Master Angeletti, and Master Ortega. This is Sydney Sage."

"You are very welcome here, little sister," said Master Angeletti in a grave voice. He had a long and messy beard. "The time for the healing of our two groups is long overdue. We will be much stronger once we put aside our differences and unite as one." I gave him the politest smile I could and decided not to point out the Alchemists were unlikely to welcome gun-toting zealots into our ranks. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sirs. Thank you for allowing me to come. I'd like to talk to you about - " Master Jameson held up a hand to stop me. His eyes looked too small for his face. "All in good time. First, we'd like to show you just how diligently we train our youth to fight in the great crusade. Just as you encourage excellence and discipline in the mind, so too do we encourage it in the body."

Through some unspoken cue, the door we'd just come through opened. A familiar face walked out to the center of the arena: Chris, Trey's cousin. He was wearing workout pants and no shirt, giving a clear view of the radiating sun tattooed on his back. He had a ferocious look on his face and came to stand in the clearing's center.

"I believe you've met Chris Juarez," said Master Jameson. "He's one of the finalists in this last round of combat. The other, of course, you also know. Quite the irony that cousins should be facing off, but also fitting since both failed in the initial attack on the fiend." I turned to Trey, my jaw dropping. "You? You're one of the... contenders to kill Sonya?" I could barely get the words out. I turned back to the council in alarm. "I was told I'd have a chance to plead Sonya's case."

"You will," said Master Ortega, in a tone that implied it would be a wasted effort. "But first, we must determine our champion. Contenders, take your places." I noticed now that Trey was also in sweatpants, looking as though he could be going off to football practice. He stripped off his shirt as well and, for lack of anything else to do with it, handed it to me. I took it and kept staring at him, still unable to believe what was happening.

He met my gaze briefly but couldn't hold it. He walked off to join his cousin, and Master Jameson invited me to sit down.

Trey and Chris faced each other. I felt a little embarrassed to be studying two shirtless guys, but it wasn't like there was anything too sordid happening. My impressions of Chris since the first time I'd met him hadn't changed. Both he and Trey were in excellent physical shape, muscled and strong with the kinds of bodies that constantly worked and trained. The only advantage Chris had, if it was one, was his height - which I'd also noticed before. His height. With a jolt, memories of the alley attack came back to me. There'd been little of our attackers to see, but the one wielding the sword had been tall. Chris must have been the one originally assigned to kill Sonya.

Another robed man appeared from the door. His robes were cut slightly differently from the council's and somehow sported even more gold embroidery. Rather than a helmet, he wore a headdress more in line with what a priest might have. Indeed, that's what he seemed to be as Chris and Trey knelt before him. The priest marked their foreheads with oill and said some kind of blessing I couldn't hear. Then, to my shock, he made the sign against evil on his shoulder - the Alchemist sign against evil.

I think that, more so than any of the spiels about evil vampires or shared usage of ancient symbols, was what really drove home the fact that our two groups had once been related. The sign against evil was a small cross drawn on the shoulder with the right hand. It had survived among the Alchemists since ancient days. A chill ran through me. We really had been one and the same.

When the priest was finished, another man came forward and handed each of the cousins a short, blunt wooden club - kind of like what police sometimes used in crowd control. Trey and Chris turned toward each other, locked in aggressive poses, holding the clubs in striking positions. A buzz of excitement ran through the crowd, as it grew eager for violence. Evening breezes stirred up dust devils around the cousins, but neither of them flinched. I turned to the council incredulously.

"They're going to attack each other with those clubs?" I asked. "They could be killed!"

"Oh no," said Master Ortega, far too calmly. "We haven't had a death in these trials in years. They'll take injury, sure, but that just toughens our warriors. All of our young men are taught to endure pain and keep on fighting."

"Young men," I repeated. My gaze moved down to the bleach blonde girl who'd brought me in. She was standing near our bleachers, holding her gun at her side. "What about your women?"

"Our women are tough, too," said Master Ortega. "And certainly valued. But we'd never dream of letting them fight in the arenas or actively hunt vampires. Part of the reason we do what we do is to keep them safe. We're fighting this evil for their good and our future children." The man who'd handed out the clubs also announced the rules in a loud, ringing voice that filled the arena. To my relief, the Juarez cousins wouldn't be beating each other senseless.

There was a system to the combat they were about to enter into. They could only hit each other in certain places. Hitting elsewhere would result in penalties. A successful hit would yield a point. The first person to five points was the winner.