You're a liability.

"Shut up."

You're gonna get us all killed, Mikey.

"Shut up," I repeat.

Your siblings are holding you back. Why don't you just let someone else take care of them?

"Shut up," I grumble, the incessant voices in my head ceasing for the moment. My dad's been missing for who knows how long now (thirteen years), and I've had to deal with younger siblings that share only half of their DNA with me. I love them to death, but what kind of parents walk out on their own children? Their mom? Sure, I can see that. She's always been a no-good woman with her own agenda. But my dad? He didn't even abandon me when I murdered my mom on accident nineteen years ago, why would he disappear one day? Either way, the both of them deserve a lashing. I'm the only family they know, and I will never abandon them.

"Biscuit, who are ya talkin' to?"

I cast a glance over my shoulder as Maverick shows himself into the room. His long, black hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and he looks like he's dressed as a pirate with his billowy shirt, high boots, and snug pants. His glowing red eyes dig deep into me, the only person who understands me and what I've been through. He's been alive for centuries, and his paling skin tells me he's nearing the end of his long, vampire life. Immortality is only a placeholder word for how long creatures like him actually live. True immortality only comes in the forms of Bleeders, and I can tell he's never envied me once for it.

"The past," I mutter as I place my chin on my crossed arms. The lights around the mirrors before me beam heat down into my skin, sweat beginning to prickle along my edges. I watch him as he approaches, a reflection only given to born vampires. The bitten are the ones effected by silver. Even then, most mirrors aren't made with silver anymore, but aluminum. The main ones you can find with silver are either old or magic.

He sets a hand on my head, ruffling my short blonde hair. Some twerp hacked it off last week in the last hum-fight and I had to get it styled so it didn't look like I was shoved through a woodchipper.

"The past is the past, Mikaela. Bury it."

"I'd love to." I sit upright and twist around in the chair, hearing other humans getting ready for tonight's fight. "But even Moaning Myrtle over there keeps reminding me."

I jerk my chin to the corner where my so-called "coach" named Murphey sits, muttering to himself about money and bets he's planning on making for and against me.

"He only does that so ye don't ferget what's at stake."

I roll my eyes and straighten my white tank top, unrolling the pink undershirt so it feels more comfortable. A pink A is centered in the middle with a circle around it, and my jeans are bloody and riddled with holes. An old pair of Chucks I'd stolen from the antique store I'd lived in most of my life cover my feet, hiding the most neon pink socks I could find. As for makeup, who needs it? The only makeup I need is the blood of my enemies.

I chuckle quietly to myself at the thought.

"Yeah, well I think he's just lucky I'm not what everyone thinks I am," I whisper quietly. I'm sure Murphey has guessed I'm not a normal human, but if he has, he's definitely not sure. If that was the case, he'd bet a lot more for than against me.

"Mikey!" Murphey suddenly pipes up, waddling over to me. He's a short, fat dwarf with a five o'clock shadow that could kill you if you got too close. His little round nose is as red as a cherry, and his eyes are the biggest and brownest I've ever seen. "You just need to beat three contestants, survive whatever creature wants to eat you, and you'll be on your way to the championship. If you win, you'll be set for life."

"Good," I say as I wipe my palms on my pants and glance at Maverick. "Then Tanya will finally stop lecturing me about this career choice."

"It's a bloody good one," Murphey says lifting a handful of money. "You've made me thousands."

"And lost you thousands," I retort as he heads for the door. "But that's what happens when you bet against me."

"Hey, you're an inexperienced, twenty-something, five-foot-four female with daddy issues. Of course I'm going to think a man with muscles the size of your face is going to beat you."

With that, he exits, talking to himself as he shuts the door behind him.

I give Maverick a sideways glance. He's been by my side for as long as I can remember. When everyone's against me, he's there to back me up or talk me down.

"Be careful out there. You may be indestructible, but you aren't replaceable. If you take a blow that's supposed to be fatal--"

"I can't show my face anymore, yeah, yeah, yeah," I interrupt, waving my hand.

Maverick sighs and sets his hand on my shoulder before he sees himself out. He hesitates by the door, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Mikey, whatever happens tonight..."

He trails off, like he's uncertain of his words.

I snort. "You make it sound like something life-changing is going to happen tonight." I shove my hands in my back pockets, feeling the coin he'd given me. It tracks my location when I'm in danger. "Tonight will be the same as every other night. I'll win, go back home to the abandoned movie theater Kyler and Reba keep trying to sneak out of, and wait until the next hum-fight."

Maverick gives me a long, long look, alighting my nerves.

"Just... be careful, Mikaela."

With that he shuts the door, and I can't help but feel like he's had a peek into my future.

And from the ominous energy surrounding me, I'm pretty sure it isn't a good one.