Page 22 of Failed State

“Now, children,” Rory interjects. “Personal differences aside, we all have weaknesses. Vicious here is the most limited because her Marker has fritzed her development… I think.”

Awfully intuitive for a sleazy magical himbo, but the sun even shines on a dog’s ass some days.

“Her magic is none of your business, dickhead,” Thad growls and I have to swallow a laugh. The boy is simply unable to keep his damn weaknesses to himself. If that was fishing, he just got hooked.

“Interesting.” Sebastian tilts his head, his eyes glittering with pleasure. “The bear’s weakness is not only his species based ones—overheating at speed and shitty turn radius—but also the girl. Good to know.”

“The mage is overconfident and lacks control,” I offer as I lean my chair back, balancing on the back legs. “Syd covered yours, fang face.”

“Holy water.” Everyone looks at the silent, hulking dragon standing a couple feet away from us in surprise. I tilt my head at him, curious why he was a lockdown loser beyond looking dangerous as fuck.

“Nada, compadre. That’s old news since the Church scandals. You’d have to find very specific priests and unsullied people to produce any that would burn me now. Weird loophole our kind found, but we’re crafty.”

His huge teeth are bared when he gives us a creepy grin. “You think they won’t find clean people if it makes this more exciting? Now who’s overconfident?”

Fuck me, the damn monster is right.

“We all have weaknesses, by species and personally.” Sydney pins each one of us with a stare, her expression serious. “It willtake time for the second half of that to feel safe to share—if ever. But if the crap they’ve been spewing about ‘all or none’ is true, then you motherfuckers need to get your dicks in line. I want the hell out of here.”

Elias studies her for a moment, then nods. “That should be our primary goal. We have little time to execute.”

My brow furrows as his words trigger something in the back of my mind. “You speak like someone who’s seen the back of battle, dragon.”

“I have. This will likely be worse.”

“Why?” Thad asks as his hand lands on our girl’s knee. “I mean, I don’t know what battles or why you’re locked up, but…”

The dragon grunts as he shifts, looking around the space for a moment before he responds. “I’m old enough to have survived many wars these people don’t even know happened. The seas, the air, the dragons, the leadership… My kind is built to swing the balance, no matter what flavor of dragon we are.”

“You’re superold!” Sydney gasps as she looks at him. Her lips quirk up and the tattooed lizard snarls softly. “Don’t worry, old man. Huck’s not a spring chicken, either.”

For fuck’s sake…

“The vampire is likely far older than he appears,” Rory says as his chest puffs up. “That leaves us and your teddy bear as the youthful contingent.”

“Shut. Up. Spellsucker.”

I have to turn away so I don’t laugh as the vampire grits his fangs and the dragon huffs. Caring about age is such a fuckinghumanconcept; it only proves Syd and the bouncy mage are the closest to their species in our group. Magic users always have been on that thin line between the two, and only when they have a great deal of power do they exceed their mostly weak meat suits.

Another reason I’m making nice with these fools—I’m fond of our girl’s meat suit and I’d like it to stay intact—not that they need to know that.

The balancing act of living after The Unveiling just got infinitely harder.

SASHAY-SHANTAY

SYDNEY

We got usheredinto the next area so fast I almost forgot it was to be stripped and measured. Krista, however, didnot forget, as evidenced by her squeals of excitement as they positioned each one of us on pedestals. A swarm of fucking designers and tailors in funky outfits descended on us like locusts, jabbering loudly to one another in small four person teams. I guess this is why there’s a lag between the rooms; they’re all beholden to these wacky humans and their pet supes figuring out how they want to dress us up for their rabid audience.

I despise this kind of foppery on principle—not that I’ve had much chance since the camps—but I hate it even more when I know it’s because we’re circus acts. My arms and legs are getting tired from being spread out like the Vitruvian man, and I have no intention of allowinganyoneto put me in something with glitter.

Prison be damned, I’m not a fucking Barbie doll.

“You’ll have a competition uniform, of course. Then a selection of gear branded by your team with your name on them—school uniform, gym kit, sleepwear, casual wear, lounge wear,and the like. The only thing you’ll be measured for, but not given at first, is formal wear for events we throw throughout the run of the show. Those will be earned in various ways that the hosts will make everyone aware of. It might be through performance or grades, winning a mini-challenge, or even through votes and social media.”

I blink.What the hell?No one in the camps is allowed more than basic tech and it’s heavily curated, so social media is pretty much out. Unlike humans, we’re all basically fetuses when it comes to the whims of the populace living on the Internet now. “Social media?”

Thad snorts and the crew at his legs grumble about moving. He can’t help smirking at me and I know if I turn my head to look at Huck, he’ll be doing the same. I’m not good with actual people, much less hordes of dipshits online. This will be a disaster of epic proportions if they think I’m going to be able to schmooze donors or some shit.

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