She landed, breathing hard. Had this not worked, she would have had to come down anyway, and he would have had her.
The man took hold of the bars of the cage, but she quickly hardened them into steel-like strength, and he could not budge them. He felt all around it, but it was tight, having been adapted from one piece of ribbon. He was fairly caught. She had won.
He took it philosophically. “I would really have liked to breed with you,” he said. “Not only are you a real human creature, you are beautiful. But the magic that makes you so wonderful also makes you unconquerable.”
“So now we are free,” she said, satisfied. “All of us have won our duels.”
“Until tomorrow,” he agreed.
“Tomorrow?”
“When your next duels begin. You have won only the right not to breed with us whom you have defeated; the remainder of your thousand have not yet been decided.”
Nona was appalled, but the confirmation was coming in from the others. The man spoke the truth. Indeed, this had been clear throughout, and others had remarked on it. She just had not let it register for her own situation.
They had always said that the requirement was a thousand breedings for each of them. That meant that they were still trapped here for a long time. They could fight it every day against new opponents, or submit to it without resistance, but they would not be able to leave the nether world to complete their mission. The only way they could have the freedom to leave their duel-daises for parts of the day was to breed early, so that no further contests were necessary. In short, to capitulate.
What were they to do?
CHAPTER 13—ESTA
THEY were just in time; school was letting out, and the students were surging forth in waves. Slick let Colene off on the sidewalk where Esta normally walked alone toward her home.
“I’ll be near if you need me,” he said.
Colene watched the car pull away. She turned to look at the surroundings. This was a typical suburban neighborhood. It reminded her of her own—and of how she, hardly more than a month ago, had spied a man in a gully, and helped him, and that was Darius. How her life had changed, because of that one encounter! Of course nothing like that was in the offing now, but it did give her a certain perspective.
The girl appeared, crossing the street at the intersection. She was small and thin, her hair reddish and somewhat frizzed. Slick had said she was thirteen; she looked eleven. Youth was supposed to be the time of carefree innocence; Colene knew better than that, and the sight of this approaching girl was further evidence. Esta’s head was bowed, her body slumped, and her clothing was careless. A rumpled dark green skirt, an olive-green shirt—a bad combination. This was a nothing girl; It showed all over. She surely had no friends.
Slick thought she was suicidal. He could be right. What reason would such a person have for living? Colene herself had been popular, yet possessed of a deathwish. How much easier it must be to fade away if one’s prospects really were blah.
The girl passed without pausing. Colene, surprised, hurried to catch up. “I must talk to you.”
“No.” Esta walked on.
“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I really need to—” Colene broke off, because the girl was ignoring her.
This was a problem Colene hadn’t quite anticipated. But she regrouped. “I’m not exactly a stranger. I know your name. Esta. Just wait a moment.”
“Anybody could have told you,” the girl said, not breaking her stride. “Leave me alone.”
“Just listen a moment. Are you okay? I mean—”
“Not supposed to talk to anyone. Go away.”
This wasn’t working. Colene was starting to feel desperate. So she took a chance. “Slick,” she said. “Slick sent me.”
Now Esta reacted. “Uncle Slick,” she breathed.
“Oops,” Colene said, with partially feigned chagrin. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. He’s under court order not to see you.”
The girl abruptly halted. “Court order?”
“You didn’t know? You thought he didn’t care?”
Esta stared at her, and Colene realized that this was exactly it: the girl had not been told. So she rushed on. “He loves you, Esta, but he’ll be arrested if he’s caught close to you. So he just sort of watches from afar. But none of your folk know me, so I can be with you, if they don’t catch on. Talk to me, Esta; I can be awful good company when I try.”
The slight humor of her phrasing was lost on the girl. “Why can’t Uncle Slick visit me?”
This was definitely not the time for the whole truth. “Your mother thinks he would be a bad influence.”
Esta made a sound. It was, Colene realized, a laugh, but it was so forced and pained that it sounded more like a cross between a bark and a whine. Colene had never heard such an utterance before, but she recognized it instantly: it was sheer misery. This was indeed a lost soul, and there was absolutely nothing funny about it.
“Esta, we really have to talk,” Colene said.
But the girl had recovered her isolation. “No. You’re just more trouble. Go away.”
Time for another desperation ploy. Colene kept pace, unwrapping the band of cloth around her left arm. She held it up before the girl’s face. “See what I am,” she said.
For there were the scars of her nature: many thin white welts across her wrist, and one great long one on her inside forearm. The average person might mistake their significance, but Esta should recognize it.
The girl’s eyes widened. “But you’re pretty!” she exclaimed.
Now it was Colene’s turn to laugh. “Do you think that matters?”
Esta shook her head. “I guess not.” But she kept walking.
Colene followed up her opening. “Okay, so you’re not supposed to talk to anyone. I don’t want to get you in trouble. But your uncle really wants to know how you’re doing, and now I know he has reason to be concerned. Look, I don’t have to go in your house or anything; we can talk outside—no, I guess not, because people would see. I know: your bike! I can maybe fix it. I know about bikes.”
“Flat tire,” Esta said. “Keeps leaking air. Overnight, or in the day.”
“I know something that’ll stop that,” Colene said eagerly. “Tire sealant. I can get it at a hardware store. Is there one near here?”
“No.”
So much for that. But Colene refused to be balked, now that she was making progress. She looked around.
Sure enough, there was Slick’s car parked around the corner. He was watching.
She beckoned to him. Meanwhile, to Esta: “Pretend you don’t see anything.”
The car glided up. The window rolled down halfway. “Bike tire sealant,” Colene said. “One package. We’ll wait.”
The car glided away. Esta’s eyes were round. “That was—”
“Remember, court order,” Colene said. “You didn’t see anyone.”
The girl was impressed. “You really are from—”
“A friend,” Colene finished. “Let’s just walk slowly. No one’ll care if you have company one day.” She realized that this was a good break; it verified her authority.
“Oh, God, I wish—” Esta started, but didn’t continue.
“I don’t know if I can help,” Colene said. “But tell me. I’ve got a notion what it’s all about.” For surely Slick’s worry had substance, and this girl wanted to die.
But Esta was silent. Colene saw the fear in her. She didn’t dare talk to any stranger about it, however well connected that stranger might be. This was understandable.
“Let’s do this,” Colene said. “Let’s just walk around this block, waiting for that tire sealant to get here, and I’ll talk and you listen. Okay?”
Esta didn’t answer, but she did turn the corner when Colene did, walking down the block instead of crossing the street. She was listening.