Where Monsters Lie (The Monster Within 2)

If anyone is going to make a fighter out of Erin, it’s gonna be Luiza.

“We’ll be doing demonstrations today,” Professor Davies says as Luiza hands out the last of the weapons. “Dagher, how about you go first? You’re skilled with a staff.”

My eyes go to Piers, and the rage flares up in my stomach. He puffs his chest out as he stands in a wide, empty space in front of the class, twirling the staff in his hands.

“Any volunteers to spar with Dagher here?” Davies asks.

“Me,” I say loudly. Everyone’s eyes go to me, but I don’t care. I walk toward Piers, clutching the staff. These boys have been wanting to spar with me all week, so why, now, when I approach him, does his expression deflate?

I stare at his eyes. They’re just like his father’s. Fuck you, I think as I glare at him, my fingers flexing on the staff.

“Great.” Davies doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the air. She starts talking about something to the rest of the class; proper technique, stances, grips. I’m not paying attention. I’m staring Piers down, looking into the same blue eyes I looked into earlier today. This boy’s father had something to do with the death of my parents.

And this boy, standing right in front of me, will be the death of me if I’m not careful.

“Avery,” says Luiza’s voice from somewhere far away. I glance over. She’s standing next to Davies, looking worried.

“Not paying attention?” Davies asks sharply. “I said, are you ready?”

“Ready.” I look away from her, back to Piers.

“Ready,” Piers says.

“Three, two, one—begin.”

Piers spins the staff in his hands. A stupid, pointless flourish. All style. He thinks he can show off? Let me show him something worth showing off.

I lunge forward, swinging the staff around like a bat. He’s so distracted by another fancy twirl that I get a direct hit to the side of his knee. He cries out as his leg buckles beneath him. The rage that’s been welling up for a week finally bubbles over.

“One point, Black,” Davies’s voice says. Points? Who cares about points?

I’m going to beat the shit out of Piers.

I don’t let up. I bound forward, thrusting my staff directly into Piers’ chest. His breath escapes his lungs with a grunt as he falls backwards. Even without any air in his lungs, he manages to catch himself before he falls and bring his staff up to block my next strike.

Annoyed, I push my staff against his, and we struggle for a moment. He’s panting, gasping in air, while I’m barely breathing hard. Looks like one of us took it easy this summer, and it wasn’t me.

“What the fuck, Avery?” he pants. “We’re just sparring.”

I don’t answer. I drop my staff and whirl it away from him, dancing back as I do. His balance is off. He lurches forward and has to take a moment to catch himself, but I don’t let him. I slide up beside him and swing my staff again, smacking him hard in the lower back. He falls forward this time, his staff rolling away.

“Three points—Black wins,” Davies says.

The fight should be over, but Piers flips onto his back and kicks out, connecting the heel of his boot with my left shin. Pain shoots up my leg and anger shoots through my chest. I see red. Without knowing what I’m doing, I swing my staff down, hard, across Piers’ chest again.

He yells and grabs it, trying to wrench it from my hands.

“Hey!” Davies yells. “Black wins! Enough.”

“You’re a coward!” I scream at Piers, yanking my staff back from his grip. He rolls out of the way as I swing wildly at him again. “A coward, just like your fucking father!”

The blow narrowly misses, giving him the chance to spring back to his feet. “You take that back, you bitch,” he snarls.

I swing at him again, and this time my staff connects with a satisfying thwack. Piers yells and grabs at his jaw, where the blow landed. I move into another strike, lunging at him. He sidesteps, just barely dodging, and I yank the staff back, landing a blow to his shoulder. He cries out in pain.

Earlier, I was aiming to bruise.

Now, I’m aiming to maim.