Halo (Blood and Fire Series (A Young Adult Dystopian Series))

Halo (Blood and Fire Series (A Young Adult Dystopian Series)) by Frankie Rose Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Halo (Blood and Fire Series (A Young Adult Dystopian Series)) by Frankie Rose Read Free Book Online
Authors: Frankie Rose
accessing it. I never knew I was such a coward until now.
    All of the red banners and flags have been taken down from the Colosseum, and the four levels of carved sandstone are naked today, as we wait for the Belcoras boy by the main entrance. I’m wearing my knife belt, which feels blissfully normal even though it took a lot for me to strap it on before we left the house. The weight of it, knowing exactly where each and every blade is, the movement and shift of my weapons when I walk, is reassuring. It’s only when I consider taking a blade out and using it that I’m filled with alarm.
    “What’s up with you today?” my brother asks. Belcoras is late, and my brother has never had much patience. He has a pair of throwing knives in one hand. He scissors them back and forth, making them sing. I give him a look that makes him put them away.
    “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just waiting.”
    “You’re not waiting. You’re pacing. You’re all twitchy.”
    “I’m not, ” I insist. My brother shrugs his shoulders and accepts my denial, while I continue to pace and twitch. It feels risky being out here in the open, where anything could happen and any number of events could occur, leading to the discovery that I’ve been walking around like a ticking time bomb for the last four days. The fact that I haven’t told anyone about my halo is a major deal. If I get found out, I don’t know what the technicians will do.
    In the time we stand there waiting, the subtle pink hue to the morning sky diminishes and clouds begin to amass in the heavens. It won’t be long before rain kicks in and the day is a washout; there’s electricity on the air and a storm is brewing. Storms mean one thing in the Sanctuary: everybody indoors. Lightning strikes within the city limits are common, and the rain is usually so strong that flash flooding can occur without any warning. Living near the river is a blessing sometimes and a burden at others. When it bursts its banks, we’re actually permitted to sleep on the first floor of the house. Miranda says the frequency with which we get flooded is the reason why we don’t get carpet on the floor in our living quarters, but I know better.
    “Belcoras is here,” my brother says, pointing off through the crowds of early morning touts setting up their stalls of fruit and vegetables. I look in the direction he is pointing and pick out a sandy blond head amongst the jostling throng of people. It’s a Belcoras, all right. They all have that same dirty, straw-coloured hair. I know because I’ve killed three of his brothers. As he draws closer, we go out to meet him, and a light rain starts to fall. He’s wearing combat gear just like us, but his clothes are worn at the knees and scuffed. No doubt he has to share his clothes with all his siblings.
    The boy is probably the same age as me. He’s broad and strong and it’s obvious he’s a trained fighter, even without the faint scars that run down the lengths of his cheekbones. He holds out his hand to greet us and I shake first, noticing the way he holds himself. I do this subconsciously. Studying a fighter is second nature to us, wondering how they handle themselves, how they handle their knives, what their strengths and weaknesses are. I’ve already ascertained that he favours his right side and that he’s probably quick, but not as quick as me, by the time I let his hand go.
    He gives me a curt smile, knowing he has been sized up, and I notice that his eyes are mismatched. One is ice blue and one is so dark it’s almost black. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and for a second I’m stunned. A frown flickers over his face, and I realise I’m staring. I look away.
    “Good morning,” he says. “My Trues have requested we discuss a training schedule. I take it that’s why you came?”
    “It is,” I tell him, organising my face into a mask of nonchalance. “My last partner and I trained every morning from six until

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