Rayna tests the weight of the gun in her hand. It’s bigger than all of Rachel’s guns, which fit in one hand. This one requires the use of both hands to aim it and shoot it. “Rachel always said not to point the gun at Toraf—er, anyone. And now you’re telling me to shoot at humans?”

“It’s a paintball gun,” Emma reminds her. “If you shoot someone with it, all it does is splatter them with paint.”

Oh. Right. They talked about this. She can shoot anyone she wants, she just can’t aim for their head. “So if I shoot them, they lose?”

“Yes,” Emma says, putting on a black vest. She hands one to Rayna. “The goal is to be the only person left who hasn’t been shot.”

“What are the rules?” Toraf asks, sliding a bowl-looking thing onto his head. He flips up the front of it to wink at Rayna. She gives him a small smile, but nothing overly noticeable.

“There are no rules,” Galen says. The he looks at Rayna. “Except no. Shooting. In. The. Head.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that already!”

“I just want you to acknowledge in front of witnesses,” he says.

“Acknowledged,” she huffs. It’s a shame too, because it would be a great way to practice her aim. Rachel taught her how to shoot the little guns, but she’s never handled something this big before.

A loud whistle blows from behind them. “The game has started,” Galen says. “Get your helmet on.”

“If there’s no shooting in the head then why do we need helmets?” she says. Do humans do anything that makes sense?

“In case of accidents,” Emma calls over her shoulder as she runs into the wood.

“What, I’m supposed to chase them?” Rayna mutters after everyone has dispersed. With all their black gear on, they easily disappear among the trees and brush. “How exhausting.”

She inches her way toward the enclosed battlefield. Rachel taught her to walk with her gun pointed ahead, and to look in all directions before she proceeds forward. She moves along the outer rim of the enclosure, figuring that staying in the middle would only get her shot. Besides, from here she has a view of what’s going on inside. She hears the sound of a gunshot and of someone crying out in surprise. She thinks Emma might have just lost the game.

Quietly, Rayna moves toward the sound of the scream. Sure enough, Emma’s back is covered in bright orange paint, and she’s making her way out of the woods, helmet dangling in her hand. Rayna thinks it was probably Toraf, because she doubts her brother could ever raise a weapon to Emma—game or not.

There are no rules, Rayna reminds herself. With as much stealth as she can muster, she sneaks up behind Emma, grabbing at her mouth to stifle her scream. Emma is hardly a match for Rayna’s tenacity. With more ease than she’d expected, she drags Emma back into the woods.

Tearing down a sizable piece of netting from the boundary of the enclosure, she stuffs a wad of it into Emma’s mouth, then binds her hands and feet with it. Emma is clearly enraged, but Rayna shakes her head at her. “What do you care?” Rayna hisses. “You already lost. You want these boys to beat us both?”

Some of the fury leaves Emma’s face while she considers. Slowly, she shakes her head.

“Good,” Rayna says. “Now, you’re my bait. I’m taking you to the middle. Stay there and look helpless.”
Emma does a good job of looking like a victim, Rayna decides. Or she’s trying to actually escape, which isn’t going to happen. No one can loosen her bindings except Rayna; she’d used her own special knot for the occasion. On the floor of the enclosed woods, Emma squirms and wriggles like a hooked fish. Perfect.

From Rayna’s vantage point inside an overgrown bush, she can see everything. All she has to do is wait. And not very long, either. Within minutes, Galen is approaching Emma slowly, his gun lowered.

“Angelfish?” he says. He’s not happy with the sight of her tied up and gagged, if the way he balls his fist is any indication. Also, he’s not paying attention to his surroundings.

Rayna lifts her gun and takes aim. Thunk thunk! Two pellets strike him in his thick arm and he’s suddenly bespattered in vibrant blue paint. He turns to face her, flipping the front piece of his helmet up. He closes the distance between them in three bounding strides. With his free hand, he grabs her by the wrist and extracts her from the bush.

“You cheated,” he says through clenched teeth. She wonders if getting shot actually hurts, because he seems more irritable than he should be.

“There aren’t any rules, except no shooting in the head,” she says, lifting her chin. “Although your head is the easiest target, being as big as it is.”

“Help me untie Emma,” he says.

Together they undo Rayna’s special knot and help Emma stand. When Galen removes the clump of netting from her mouth she shoves Rayna back about two feet. Which is actually kind of impressive, for Emma. Rayna is about to reciprocate, but Galen stands between them.

“She put me right on top of an ant bed!” Emma explains to him in a sort of whimper-yell. “An ant crawled up my nose.” At this she claws at her face violently, as if it’s covered by a million ants. How

Galen could find this attractive Rayna’s not sure.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Rayna offers half-heartedly. But she’s wasting time with these two. Toraf is still out there somewhere, waiting to be taken down. “Go get cleaned up,” she says, eyes scanning the woods. “I’ve got to find Toraf.”

As Galen and Emma begrudgingly make their way back to the entrance, Rayna resumes residence in her new favorite bush. She knows Toraf is hiding somewhere. This was his strategy when they used to play as fingerlings. He would hide out and wait for her to cross his path.

Not this time.

The only way to win this game is to draw Toraf out from whatever sanctuary he’s found for himself. And she knows just exactly how.

“Toraf!” she yells into the woods, trying to sound scared. She’s not too familiar with the emotion, so she’s not sure if she’s doing it right. “Toraf, help me!” Then she lets out an ear-piercing scream, and the gust of it bends some nearby trees. They snap back into place, swaying as if dizzied. I’ve got to be more careful with my Gift, she decides. It’s kind of inconvenient, not being able to scream as often as she wants. Tantrums, for instance, aren’t as effective if she can’t scream.

After a few moments of waiting, there is still no sign of Toraf. Does he suspect what I’m doing? He does know her better than anyone, after all. “Squid breath,” she mutters. “Doesn’t even care if I’m in trouble.”

Deciding to trace the outer boundary of the paintball arena again, she creeps along, keeping her gun trained into the woods. Occasionally she stops, waiting for any sign of movement. Disappointed that he won’t let her win, she squats down on her haunches and balances her gun on her knees.

He won’t come to me. I have to go to him.

It’s risky, but she knows what she has to do. In a sudden burst, she sprints through the middle of the arena, trying to get a good look at her surroundings without tripping over stumps or braining herself on low-hanging branches. Thunk thunk thunk!

Trees around her explode into bright orange. Toraf is shooting at me!

She finds refuge behind the trunk of a thick tree. Peering around it, she analyzes the splatters of paint. To her horror, they’re all facing her. Which means that Toraf is—

“Drop your gun, princess,” Toraf calls from behind her.

“I can’t believe you shot at me!” she says, breathless. “What is the matter with you?”

This doesn’t settle well with him. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” But he sounds unsure.

“I thought we were on the same team,” Rayna says. “I thought we’re always supposed to be on the same team.” She turns to face him, slowly lowering her gun.

He pulls up the clear part of his helmet that covers his eyes. His scowl is deep. She does the same, eyeing him like wounded prey, as if at any minute he’ll pounce on her. He looks truly disgusted with himself. “Triton’s teeth, Rayna. I didn’t know that, I swear.”

She really is perturbed that he would shoot at her, but his remorse more than makes up for it. He wears his shame like humans wear clothes. “I don’t like games that pit us against each other,” she says, proud of how pathetic she sounds.

Actually, this is the most entertained she’s been in a while. Now she can see why humans like to go on dates. This is fun.

This completely disarms Toraf. He drops his gun to the ground—throws it, really—and starts unstrapping his vest. “No, wait!” Rayna says.

He stops. “Wait? For what?”

She lifts her gun and aims at his chest. Thunk. The mess of vivid blue on his vest reminds her of certain rocks she finds in the deep waters of the cold parts of the ocean. “I didn’t want you to take off your vest until I shot you,” she explains. She likes the shirt he’s wearing today; it would be a shame to ruin it with paint. A little bit of paint gets in his hair though. She’s not sure what they’re going to do about that.

“You lied to me?” he says, incredulous. “To win?”

“There are no rules,” she says. Why does she have to keep repeating this to everyone? “And besides, you were going to shoot me.”

A sudden, dazzling grin takes over his face, slightly affecting the rhythm of her heart beat. “That’s pretty impressive, princess.”

“I know,” she agrees. “Now let’s go find Galen and Emma so we can go on another date.”