My mind whirled and whirled, trying to put everything together. “But why? I still don’t understand why.”

Katia gave me another of those you’re-the-biggest-idiot-ever looks. “For its magic, of course.” Her face turned sly. “You wanna know a secret?”

I didn’t respond, but I didn’t have to.

“I don’t actually have all that much magic of my own,” she said. “I have a very minor Talent for speed, but I found a way to increase it, to have all the magic I want, whenever I want it.”

My stomach twisted. “By killing monsters and people and taking their power.”

She shot her thumb and forefinger at me. “Bingo.”

Suddenly, I realized why Katia’s eyes kept going from hazel to green and back again—because of all the stolen tree troll magic pumping through her veins. Devon had said there was no way to cheat in the tournament, but he’d been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

“The trolls’ magic . . . Vance’s magic . . . you wanted it for the tournament. You took their power and used it to try to help you win.”

“Bingo again,” Katia said. “Look at you, on a roll and everything. And now I’m going to do the same thing to Deah. Come to think of it, I should have done this last year, when I had the chance.”

“You want her magic? You want her mimic power?”

“Of course I want it,” Katia snarled. “With Deah’s power, I can beat anybody and win any tournament I enter, and I can finally scrape together enough money to leave my father behind forever. And forget working for the Volkovs too. With Deah’s magic, I can do things the way I’ve always wanted to.”

She noticed my horrified expression. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. You know what a loser my dad is. You see how he drinks.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I know how much that must hurt. But that’s no excuse for doing horrible things. Lots of kids have crappy parents, and they don’t go around murdering monsters and people. Killing Deah isn’t the answer to your problems.”

“Sure it is,” she replied. “And yours too. With her out of the way, they’ll have to declare you the winner of the tournament like they should have all along. I saw your last fight with her, and I heard what she said to you at the picnic tables. You had her beat, so why did you let her win?”

“Because Deah’s dad would have hurt her if she didn’t win.”

She snorted. “Please. Deah should protect herself from Victor. She’s strong enough to do it. She just doesn’t have the spine for it.” Katia paused. “At least, she would have been strong enough, but now, all that lovely, lovely magic is going to be mine.”

I shook my head and stepped forward. “No way. I won’t let you hurt her. It’s sick and wrong and twisted, and you know it.”

Katia laughed, the sound cold enough to chill my bones. “Sure, I know it. But I don’t care. The only thing I do care about is myself and finally winning. You don’t have any say in it. Don’t try to stop me, Lila. You won’t like what happens.”

I raised my sword. “I’m not going to let you murder her.”

She grinned. “You don’t have a choice. And since you’re taking her side, well, I guess I’ll be getting two powers for the price of one today. More strength magic for me. Goody.”

Katia drew out a dagger from the belt on her waist. I recognized it—it was the same dagger she’d used to kill Vance and the tree troll at the Midway.

I snapped my sword up into an attack position, but then she moved, almost too fast for me to follow. Of course, she was fast now. Her eyes were as bright and green as a troll’s, which meant she had some monster magic running through her body.

I barely got my sword up in time to avoid her first blow and all the others she rained down on me. I’d fought people with speed Talents before, even during the tournament, but Katia was something else. She was just too quick for me, and it was all I could do to parry her lightning-fast attacks. A few more moves, and she would be able to disarm me. Still, I fought on, trying to figure some way out of this mess.

Clang!

Katia finally got the advantage and knocked my sword out of my hand. Desperate, I charged at her, but she easily sidestepped me. But that was okay because it gave me enough time to yank my phone out of my pocket. I hadn’t managed to connect with my earlier swipes, but I hit the screen and speed-dialed Devon. I could hear the call going through.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Katia hissed. “Who are you calling?”

She lashed out with her dagger, and I ducked out of the way. She made another move for my phone, but I threw it into the bushes before she could get her hands on it.

Katia rushed at me again, and I sucked in a breath to yell, hoping that Devon would hear the noise through my phone. But she was so quick that I didn’t even get a chance to do that.

Even as I opened my mouth to scream, her fist zoomed toward my face. I tried to turn away, but she was faster than I was, and I couldn’t avoid the hard, sharp blow.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The pounding in my head woke me.

I groaned and realized that my neck was twisted at an awkward angle and that I was slumped up against a hard, wooden wall like a sack of potatoes. My eyes fluttered open, and a couple of overhead lights burned into my brain. I closed my eyes against the harsh glare and sat upright, even though it increased the pounding in my skull. For some reason, my arm was wrenched up above my head, making my shoulder ache as well. I tried to lower it, only to find that I couldn’t.

Clank-clank-clank.

I peered up, squinting against the glare of the bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. A thick shackle circled my right wrist, above my silver Sinclair cuff, with a chain leading from the shackle to a metal loop that had been driven deep into the wall. I sucked down a breath and yanked and yanked on the chain, but it was made out of hard, heavy metal, and all I could do was make the links rattle-rattle together like bones.

I forced down my panic and looked around, trying to figure out where I was and how I could get out of here. There was only one door, directly opposite from where I was shackled, and the entire structure was made out of old, weathered boards, including the wall I was chained to. The wood might have been painted a cheery red at one time, but the color was now a dull, rusty brown. The wide open area and high A-frame ceiling reminded me of the picnic shelters by the lake. An old, dusty table and a couple of cobweb-coated chairs squatted off to one side of the room, along with two splintered oars and a wooden canoe with a gaping hole in its hull. The air smelled of fish, and I could hear the steady rush-rush-rush of the lake slapping against the shore.