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“Even better,” he says.
They face off against each other, Dean bouncing lightly on his feet, and Ares standing still with the mats deeply indented under his weight. Dean is a little shorter than Ares, but we all know how fast he is, and how savage. He was a bare-knuckle boxer in Moscow, fighting in the abandoned subway tunnels beneath the city. According to him, he never lost a fight. When he and Leo come to blows, as they have on several occasions, it’s inevitably messy and bloody, with no clear victor.
Ares is no pacifist—he got in a brawl with Bram and Valon last year. But he doesn’t like to fight, and even in Combat class he’s careful and restrained, never losing his temper.
Dean clearly views this as another opportunity to stick it to Leo by beating the shit out of one of his friends. He circles Ares with obvious intent to injure.
He goes in hard, raining down a relentless onslaught of punches almost too fast for my eye to follow. Ares keeps his fists up, but the hail of blows hits him hard in the ribs, the shoulders, and the side of his head. He blocks the worst of it, though I’m sure it still hurts.
Most of the other students have stopped sparring so they can watch. Even Professor Howell shifts position around the edge of the mat, his whistle raised to his lips to stop the fight if necessary, but his dark eyes fixed on the boys with watchful interest.
Unsatisfied by his initial onslaught, Dean attacks even harder, swinging his fist like hammers directly at Ares’ head. He lands one hard blow under Ares’ eye. Ares responds with a right-cross that knocks Dean backward on his heels. I can see the surprise in Dean’s face, and the new level of caution as he circles around, trying to catch Ares off balance.
Dean hits Ares in the body again and again, each thud loud and distinct in the near-silent gym. Ares’ jaw is tight, his face stiff. With each blow that strikes him, the patches of color on Ares’ cheeks get darker and darker. I get the strangest feeling that he’s allowing Dean to hit him. But every time Dean obliges, something builds inside of Ares. Something very like fury.
Dean attacks his head again, buffeting Ares with punches that are both fast and hard, coming at him in a flurry from all directions. It’s relentless, furious, far beyond the level of aggression we’re supposed to show in sparring.
Professor Howell doesn’t stop them. He wants to see how Ares will respond, just as much as the rest of us.
At last it works—Ares snaps. With a howl of anger, he lashes back at Dean with full force. He swings his punches with all his mass behind them, and all the benefit of his long reach. He knocks Dean’s fists aside, hitting him in the nose and jaw.
Far from calming Ares, the landed blows only enrage him further. He’s totally lost control, roaring like an animal as he hits Dean again and again and again with both fists.
Dean fires back, clipping Ares in the lower lip.
Ares hits him back just as fast, a punch so hard that Dean actually staggers and falls to one knee, something I’ve never seen before.
Face flushed, eyes wild, Ares cocks his fist again, ready to twist Dean’s head around with a finishing blow.
The cold silver whistle slices through the air between them, warning Ares to stop.
Ares drops his fists, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He reminds me of Hercules, driven mad for a moment, shaking his head as he comes back to himself. He looks shocked and a little horrified. Scared, too—scared at how he lost control.
Dean jumps back to his feet, eyeing Ares with a calculating expression. Far from being upset at the surprising turn of the fight, he seems oddly pleased as he spits a mouthful of blood on the ground.
Leo goes over to Ares and claps his hand on his shoulder, making Ares jump.
“Hey. You okay?” Leo asks.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” Ares says.
His expression has almost returned to normal. But I can see his hands trembling beneath their wrapping.
“What the fuck was that?” Anna murmurs to me.
“You know Dean,” I say to her. “He gets under everybody’s skin.”
“That he does,” Anna agrees. She’s still looking at Ares, frowning.
I understand what she’s thinking.
I noticed the same thing.
For a minute, Ares didn’t look like himself. He was a completely different person.
Christmas rolls around.I always like this time of year at school, because the dining hall is decorated with fresh fir boughs, and the professors take a break from their usual curriculum to teach us lessons that might actually be considered fun.
Professor Lyons shows us how to make LSD candy, which she then invites us to sample. As leery as I am to accept any kind of food from the most famous poisoner of the modern era, I slip two pieces in my pocket thinking that I might work up the courage to try it eventually.
