Page 29 of Torn

With a single pirouette, she drives the board into the stranger’s face, taking him off guard because, really, it’s a skateboard. Since when does anybody use such an apparatus for battle?

The seismic figure staggers, the hill rippling in response. Merry pivots in the opposite direction, catching the nemesis across the ribs. Juggling the board between her hands, she evades the assailant’s fists once more, then thrusts the board’s nose into his jugular, clipping his voice like string.

The interloper crashes to the ground. She’s never seen him before, with that hawkish nose and the long braids at either side of his head. He’s got livid features, which is a pity considering what she’s just done to him.

She registers the jagged sound of Anger. “Everlasting shit!”

He takes in the intruder, his visage contorting with recognition. His head veers toward Merry, his reaction transforming from stricken to dumbfounded.

There’s a moment. And then there are tears. Merry drops the board and blubbers, flapping her palms wildly while bursting into a crying fit.

Anger sputters, “For Fate’s sake—”

“I’m sorry,” she weeps. “I don’t like to hurt people! I just feel so bad!”

He doesn’t know what to do with that information. She doesn’t blame him, because this always happens when she’s threatened. She goes the necessary mile, then gets hysterical. But she doesn’t have time to sniffle her way back to sobriety, not while backup has just released an arrow from a different vantage point.

More than one? Why hadn’t they expected that?

Before Anger can retrieve his bow and quiver, Merry wheels the board to prevent the arrow from denting her soul mate’s jaw. The second attacker sprints toward them, a feminine hourglass in a sheer gown, the butterfly-wing material fluttering from dark-skinned shoulders.

Anger doesn’t have time to aim, nor does it appear that he wants to. He’s gone pale, color leaking from his countenance. He gapes at the woman in supplication, about to sink to his knees and pay homage to her.

That is, until the archeress nocks an arrow. It’s a graceful move, made of the wind itself.

Well, she may have velocity on them, but does she have wheels?

Anger catches Merry’s gaze. They bolt at the same time.

Merry jumps, her sneakers slapping onto the board. Anger lands behind her, and she yanks on his hands, hooking them onto her waist.

“Hold on!” She kicks the board into gear, and they barrel down the hill, a funnel of air whipping her hair into a frenzy. Glancing backward, she and Anger spot the pair of archers on their tail, the one she’d knocked down having recovered, his brows stapled together.

Her stunt has insulted them. But who are they?

You know, Merry.

You have to know by now.

She’s learned plenty from fellow outcasts. Belatedly, the arrows tip her off—azurite from the god, pearl from the goddess—and the speed of these enemies exceeds what mere archers are capable of.

Only supreme beings can move that swiftly. Only they would compel Anger to kneel.

In a simpler world, Merry would have been ready to prostrate herself like him. In a luckier world, Merry would have taken the opportunity to greet them. In a pristine world, Merry wouldn’t have been targeted without mercy. In a lovelier world, Merry would have already met them when she was born.

In an equal world, Merry wouldn’t have been discarded by them.

They’re being chased by members of the Fate Court.

That means those arrows can kill.

At this juncture, negotiation is out of the question. These rulers have their minds made up about tonight’s agenda. She’s not going to mollify the Court by curbing her board and giving them a proper curtsy.

She pitches the skateboard down Stargazer Hill, the balmy air lashing her clothes. Anger grips beneath her ribcage, his fingers digging in hard. Hitting the knoll’s base, Merry drives ahead, the wheels skidding across the lanes.

The board twists, veering them east, toward the Enneagram Maze. It’s a jungle of hedges, thickets fencing them in and collectively shaping intersected nine-pointed stars trimmed with fairy lights. They zigzag through, Merry directing the board at harsh turns that force Anger to clasp her tighter.

Will the deities know how to solve the maze? In mere minutes?

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