I opened my mouth to ask something, then shut it again.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me.”
“Well… You’re berserkers,” I said. “You’re competing against a bunch of normal humans, and you have a magical advantage. That’s not really fair, is it?”
“We don’t use our powers in the competition, Susan, that’s the whole point. These games are like a yearly rite of passage for all of us. We get to compete against the fittest humans on earth and see how strong we are without using our magic. It’s a challenge, not just in strength, but in control. Which,” she added, “just between us, we’re not great at.”
“Oh. You’re testing yourselves.”
“Exactly.” She nodded vigorously. “You remember that episode of Buffy where the Watchers dulled her strength to see how she’d be able to handle being the Slayer without it?”
“Oh, that was a sad one,” the jacked-up man behind her said. “She really never forgave Giles for that, did she?”
“No.” Candice shook her head. “Poor Buffy.”
“Poor Buffy,” a few other berserkers echoed.
I blinked. They waited patiently.
I got it. “Poor Buffy.”
They nodded sympathetically.
“It wouldn’t be a challenge if we used our powers,” she said. “And there’s not enough of us to hold our own games, so we do this. It’s like a religious experience for us, Susan.”
“Okay,” I said. “I understand. You were nervous and worried about the banwyn. Can we get back to why you stole Audrina?”
“Like I said, we heard the Devourer was here in the human realm, so we panicked, and came up with a plan. We thought Connor might leave us alone if he thought our stone was already closed. That’s what you do, right?”
I nodded.
“So, we decided to find you, and see if you’d close our stone for us. We thought it was a great idea.”
I suspected as much. “You could have asked, you know.”
Candice shifted uncomfortably. “Well… there was a little dissent in our ranks. The rumor mill in supe circles is running high right now, and nobody is really sure if you’re the good guy or the bad guy. We thought it would be best if we abducted you and interrogated you a little first, before we decided what to do.”
My eyebrows rose. “Really? Why would I be the bad guy?”
“We heard you stole magic from the siren stone and from the scribe stone,” she explained. “Some people are saying that it makes you just as bad as the Devourer.”
“I didn’t steal it,” I gasped. “The stones gifted me with magic before they closed.” The suggestion that I was just as bad as Connor was both insulting and worrisome. “That’s a little offensive, if I’m being honest, Candice. I didn’t want the magic. I didn’t ask for it, and I’m not on some crazy tyrant power-trip to take over all the Worlds like the Devourer.”
“And,” she went on, ignoring me, “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but there are some supes who think you are the one we need to watch out for. If the prophecy is true, then you might turn out to be a worse bet than Connor.”
“What does that mean?” My fists clenched. Suddenly, I was furious, but not at Candice or the berserkers. In fact, I was so mad at myself, it was a surprise that I didn't turn muscley or purple.
Whenever something important came up, I had always prided myself at getting all the information I needed to make an informed choice. I didn’t make rash decisions, and I carefully assessed all the information at hand.
But I’d never demanded to know exactly what this prophecy was. I’d dismissed any idea of it because I didn’t believe in prophecies.
Nobody could tell the future, and I was sure of that. Despite devotees breathlessly pointing in retrospect to the ramblings of renaissance-era poets high on magic mushrooms, nobody had ever successfully predicted a major event occurring in advance. Not once. Not ever.
In my pigheadedness, I’d missed an important point. It didn't matter if the prophecy was real or not. It was enough that it existed, and people were making decisions based on it. Their decisions led to actions, and their actions led to consequences. Which led me here, to a warm-up room filled with purple monsters, and Audrina still in danger.
I’d made a mistake. Again. And it wasn’t one I could blow off this time.
Candice peered at me. “You don’t know what the prophecy is?”
“Don’t tell her!” Cecil’s muffled shout drifted over to me.
“Cecil!”
“Not yet, Chosen. Donovan doesn’t want to scare you.”
“Argh!” I clenched my fists. I couldn’t possibly be more scared than I was now, but it wasn’t for myself. Only one thing mattered right now. “Candice. Where is Audrina?”
She grimaced, shrinking a little. “Well, that’s the thing. While we were willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and question you, and maybe get you to close our stone, apparently, we weren’t the only ones that wanted to get hold of you.”
My gut felt like it was going to explode. “Where. Is. She?”
Candice lowered her eyes, looking away from me. “The centaurs took her,” she whispered.
“The centaurs?”
