by A. L. Knorr
“You have to do it with a body count of zero. Use non-lethal force only.”
“Ah.” Those shadows moving in the distance were my enemies, not just a backdrop to distract me.
“Ready?”
My knees bent and quads flexed, fire licked through my torso, ready to be called upon if necessary. “I’m ready.”
A toneless electronic voice sounded in my ear. “Three, two, one.”
I took off across the gym, firing in my lower body automatically. My heart gave a high, frightened leap as a huge masculine form zoomed forward like something out of a nightmare, looming with arms reaching out to grab me.
Alfred and Tomio’s training kicked in as a startled yell ripped from my throat. I flew into a series of kicks, acting on pure instinct. There was no resistance, but fists swung through my head, making red flashes explode in my vision. The message was clear enough: the red flash meant I’d been hit. A flat buzz sounded along with the flash. A bright ding sounded when I made virtual contact with my enemy.
My heart crawled back down my throat now that I understood what I was up against. I let my combat training flow through my limbs from a place in my brain that had been asleep for most of my life, awakened now by perceived threat, real or imagined.
The shape reared back in response to my strikes, and several moments after our tangle began, his form shattered like broken glass. The pieces flew away and disappeared. I gasped, realizing my error. I’d used lethal force.
I had no time to lament my mistake when another hulking shape came at me from the left. I turned to face it, the grayed out backdrop of the fire-gym swinging and tilting. A realization arose with something akin to horror as I registered just how far off course the interaction with the first shadow-man had taken me. But there was no time to deal with my accidental wandering, a flurry of punches and kicks released an irritating stream of buzzes and red flashes. I’d already come to loathe the sight and sound of a strike.
Adrenaline and fire hurtled through nerve and muscle in an intoxicating cocktail that numbed logical thought. I fought back with a flurry of detonations and rapid offensive but non-lethal (I hoped) motion. The parade of buzzing sounds changed into a sequence of bright dings.
The shadow-man exploded like a Ming vase.
A deeper-toned buzzer sounded and the background of shadow-men faded away. Panting, I looked around as the darkness faded and the fire-gym solidified into view.
My heart fell. Thirty seconds had gone by and I had made it a mere quarter of the way across the gym. The green flag was gone but I recalled well enough where it was. I was nowhere near it. Turning, I looked up at the observation pod, breathing in gasps.
“How was that?” Basil asked in my ear, not sounding nearly as disappointed in me as I felt in myself.
“A bit of a shock, but fun.” I sucked in a breath. Gesturing to how far I’d made it, I slouched my shoulders forward in a comic parody of defeat.
Alfred chuckled. “It was your first go. Now you know what you’re dealing with. Shall we drop it a level?”
It took me a second to register that he meant level of difficulty and a wave of determination seized me by the throat.
“Please, don’t.” I made a ‘go ahead’ motion big enough for them to see from the pod and jogged back to the starting point. “Let’s go again. Nice investment, Basil.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Pleasure was audible in his tone. The man liked cutting edge technology as much as he liked antiques.
Turning to face where I knew the flag would appear, my fire coiled like a jungle cat ready to pounce. Adrenaline shot through my limbs and goosebumps of anticipation rippled across my arms and back.
“No body count,” I breathed. “I’m ready.”
An hour later, with a ten minute break for water and stretching, I laid hold of that virtual flag and punched the sky in victory. Every muscle burned and my lungs felt like hot-air balloons, but I had not been thrown down on the mat, punched, kicked or bruised in any way other than what I had done to myself. It was a whole different experience from live sparring. Fighting with Tomio went in fits and starts and was full of bruises, fumbles and self-checks. This game took all the unchecked energy I had. It challenged coordination and reaction time as I was required to handle target after target without stopping, as the clock counted down. I could feel my brain changing as I was penalized for the shattering of shadow-men, and rewarded when I’d neutralized an opponent without breaking them. My muscles began to memorize where to target on human forms of all sizes that would put an attacker out of commission without killing.
“Excellent work.” Alfred’s bug-voice came through the earpieces. “That’s enough for today.”
I fumbled for the little button on the visor. Depressing it erased all remaining VR imagery and loosed its hold on my head and face. Lifting it off, I raked a forearm across my forehead. It was hot and slick with sweat.
The sound of applause brought me up short and I looked toward the door. First-year students were filing into the gym for their skills class, but several were seated on the floor, leaning against the wall and clapping. Wanda Winkler was among them, as she taught the next class.
Embarrassment heated my cheeks. What an idiot I must have appeared to be, fighting invisible opponents, grabbing an invisible flag, and punching into the sky with pure cockiness.
I lifted a hand to acknowledge the students and fought the urge to run and hide. Alfred joined me on the floor.
“They’re here early,” I muttered.
“A few of them asked to be released from their first period classes early on Thursdays so they can catch the end of your training session.” Alfred took the visor and slipped it into a fabric sack. His brows drew together. “We can keep it private if you wish? We thought you wouldn’t mind, now that everyone knows.”
I wasn’t sure what to say so I just shook my head and thanked him for the session. I headed for where my water bottle sat on the floor not far from the entrance.
Wanda stepped out in front of the growing group of first-years. “We need ten minutes to prepare the equipment. Take yourselves through a warm up, please.”
She went to join Alfred and Basil as they set up for the next class. The usual equipment—what now seemed outdated after playing with the VR—began to emerge, the sound of casters rolling along tracks hummed in the background.
Gage, April and Jade stood just inside the door. Jade leaned against the wall pulling gum out of her mouth and twirling it around her tongue. Gage squatted with his back against the wall, watching me with a little smile. He grabbed my water bottle and towel and held them out as I approached. April looked bright-eyed and energetic, her hair done up in two buns that looked like bear-cub ears, her eyelashes were coated with sparkly blue mascara. She’d used only the mascara, no other makeup, like she thought she was only allowed one type of cosmetic per day so it better be flashy. Somehow, it worked for her.
“That was fun to watch.” She straightened the neck of her Arcturus polo.
I took my water bottle and towel, smiling thanks to Gage. I took a long drink and plugged the bottle. “I imagine it looks kind of lame when you can’t see what I can see.”
“A little.” She grinned, ever honest. She bounced from the ball of one foot to the other and back again. “Still, I hope the first-years get to try the VR this semester.”
Gage stood and stretched his legs, looking at April. “Why are you so giddy?”
April dimpled and batted her enhanced eyelashes. “Why do you think?”
I was torn between smiling at her obvious joy and scoffing because she’d obviously fallen for Ryan’s garish display the evening before.
“You’ve forgiven him then?” I tucked my water bottle under my arm and rubbed the back of my neck with my towel.
April looked scandalized that there could be any other option. “How can I not forgive a man who makes such a sweet public apology? My whole room smelled of roses this morning.”
Gage rolle
d his head to the side and sent me puppy eyes. “See, Saxony. What have I been trying to tell you? No one is perfect, and at least Ryan apologizes when he’s been wrong.”
I pressed my lips together, annoyed. “He’s got an ulterior motive.”
Gage’s face fell. He looked so genuinely disappointed that a needle of contrition slid into my heart.
“Why are you so unforgiving?” Jade’s voice came from so near my elbow that I jumped. She’d slid away from the wall to hover by our circle. “He never did anything to you.”
I propped a hand on my hip. “Are you going to forgive him for ditching you at the last minute before the exam?”
Jade shrugged and popped a bubble loudly against her teeth. “He apologized to me too, you know.”
“Yeah.” April jumped in. “Jade wasn’t in the lounge last night when he apologized to everyone so he searched her out specifically.”
“What a guy.” Gage watched me with an air of reproach. “I’m proud of my brother. Everyone deserves a second chance. Don’t you think?”
I dodged the immediate pressure to respond by taking another long drag from my water bottle. What could I say? Warning them that I suspected Ryan had something horrible up his sleeve or that he was positioning himself to use April to get to me would sound presumptuous and callous.
“Yes.” April answered when I let the silence draw out too long. “Everyone does deserve a second chance.” Her face took on a saucy, almost provocative expression. “Plans I had thought were derailed for good seem to have found their tracks again. It’s crazy how things work out. I call it serendipity.”
I frowned, knowing which plans she was referring to. A tangle of frustration and incredulity bound my stomach up in knots. What could I say that wouldn’t make me sound like an intolerant and heartless shrew?
I settled for a quiet: “Please be careful, April.”
I felt Gage’s eyes on me, disappointment oozing out of him like perspiration.
April bit her lip and swished her thin shoulders back and forth coquettishly, looking more like a washing machine than seductress. “Don’t worry, Saxony.” She leaned in close and whispered. “I plan to make him beg.”
Bile burned at the back of my throat and I took another quick drink to wash it down.
As I left the fire-gym, the halves of my brain engaged in a rowdy third-person banter.
What if Ryan was sincere?
But he threatened and tried to blackmail me.
But you do believe that everyone deserves a second chance, so why is Ryan different?
Because it’s not like him to apologize, and it’s not as if he actually cares about April.
But shouldn’t you at least try to give Ryan the benefit of the doubt, for Gage’s sake?
Nope. Three strikes, he’s out.
Ten
Next Level Evil
Rubbing my eyes and yawning, I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms overhead, rolling my head side to side. It was Sunday afternoon and I’d been camped out at the library since lunch with my laptop and a half-finished philosophy paper, which was due tomorrow before 5:00 pm. Taking a quick sip from my sparkling water, I turned the page of my Philosophy of the Human Person textbook, willing my eyes not to drift closed.
A squeak in the hinge of the library door lifted my gaze. Ryan and April entered, fingers entwined. Scowling, I lifted my textbook to block out the visual but watched them over the top until they settled at a small private table in a corner. They hadn’t noticed me and that was fine. Lifting my book higher, I dragged my mind back on topic. The next time the library door squeaked, I ignored it.
A few minutes later, something bumped against my sneaker. Lowering the book, I watched as Gage settled into the chair opposite me. I raised my eyebrows as he set a stack of books, a notebook and pen neatly on the table then pulled his seat in primly. He caught my gaze and set his two front teeth into his bottom lip, looking like an adorable nerd. He mouthed a bombastic, “Focus, please.”
I suppressed a smile and went back to work.
The sensation of a socked toe circling the ankle bone of my right foot made me blink and look up.
Gage kept his eyes on his notepaper, still with those two front teeth showing in a dorky smirk. I tucked my feet under my chair and began to read the same paragraph for the third time.
The socked toe brushed against the inside of my calf, then trailed its way up to the inside of my knee.
I shot Gage a half-amused, half-annoyed glare and pinched his foot between my knees in a vice-like clamp. He jumped and made a squeak of surprise, which made me snort.
Someone shushed us.
Gage parroted the shush.
Grabbing a textbook I’d borrowed from the Philosophy section, I got up from the table and left the study area for the stacks. I made my way through the library to the back to return the text, considering looping around the rear to view the offerings in the vending machine for the second time. I slid the book into its place and headed around the History stacks.
Gage came out of nowhere and bowled into me, his face buried in my neck as he herded me back against the bookshelves. I suppressed a shriek as he snuffled into my ear. I had to reach a hand around his neck and clamp it over my mouth. My body warmed and my heart thrilled as our bond flared through my body. My other hand couldn’t resist running itself through his hair, letting the soft strands slip through my fingers.
“You’re impossible,” I whispered, filled with exasperation and affection. Gage was exceptionally talented at walking that fine line.
“You smell so appetizing,” he murmured, sending chills up the hollow of my spine. He planted soft kisses along my neck, leaving a trail of delicate fireworks under my skin.
“Saxony?”
Gage and I jumped apart like a couple of convicts caught digging through the wall with stolen cutlery.
April appeared at the end of the History shelf. “Here you are. Sorry to interrupt,” she said to Gage. “Can I borrow her for a minute?”
Gage rubbed the back of his neck, blushing and looking guilty. “Of course.” He dematerialized.
I turned to April, heart still raging with delight under my sternum. “What’s up?”
She looked uneasy. “I can talk to you about anything, right?”
A red flag popped up like a jack-in-the-box with a nasty grin. The tingles from Gage’s kisses faded away. “Sure. Why?”
She leaned against the nearest bookcase, lucky that it was braced by a loadbearing wall. “Ryan and I are making plans for Easter, for the... you know.”
I looked at the floor and crossed my arms, putting on the posture of someone listening intently, which I was. I was also fighting to keep my emotions from spilling onto my face. “Mhmmm.”
“I’m so excited. Everything will be so romantic, there’s just one thing I’m not sure about.” April twisted her fingers together in apprehension.
I put a hand on her forearm. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to talk to about this. You know I don’t trust him.”
“I know, but don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Her expression turned pleading. “You saw his face. He was so sincere.”
“He looked sincere, April. That doesn’t mean he was sincere.”
She hesitated. “But why would he pretend? I can’t believe you’d be so skeptical for no good reason. What do you know that I don’t know? What’s his real motivation for apologizing and giving me those amazing flowers?”
I pressed my lips together, stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. I was finding myself here far too often. If I told her he was doing it to try to get to me through her, she’d accuse me of being the selfish, stony-hearted person she’d thought I was last semester.
I settled for: “He doesn’t deserve you. You can forgive him, it doesn’t mean you have to let him have your heart or your virginity. Find someone else to give it to. Someone who has never hurt you or betrayed your trust.”
“But, I don’
t want anyone else. Ryan and I have incredible chemistry,” April replied, a slash pinching her brows.
I straightened in curiosity. “Do you have a mage-bond?”
“A what?” She looked confused.
I stared, wondering if she was putting on ignorance. But April wouldn’t do that. She was brilliant, at least when it came to remembering facts.
“A mage-bond. A transfer of heat when you make skin-on-skin contact.” I watched her closely.
April absorbed this, shaking her head. “Is that a real thing?”
My mouth flopped open. “You’ve never felt a bond with any mage? Not even your mom?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You’re making me feel like I’m more of a freak than I even realized.”
I shook my head, resolving to bring it up with Basil. “Never mind. It’s off topic. I’ve said my piece. I think you should be friends with Ryan, but don’t trust him with your heart again.”
She sighed dreamily. “It’s too late for that.”
Resisting the urge to smack my palm against my forehead, I replied through teeth that wanted to grind. “What is it you aren’t sure about?”
She visibly gulped, looking as sheepish as a long-haired dog who’d been recently shaved. “We’ve got the night picked, we’re going to that cute little bed and breakfast at the other end of Dover, the one in the lighthouse. We’ll order room service and take a bubble bath.”
“The point, April,” I gritted out.
“He wants to record it,” she blurted, then clamped a hand over her mouth when it came out loud.
I felt the blood drain from my face as shock hit me like a blast of winter wind. “He... what?”
April bared her teeth in an embarrassed wince. “I know. Cringey, right?”
“April, no. You can’t. The internet is forever, what if he—”
All at once it came rushing in like the glaring halogen beam of a high-speed train. He’d lost his leverage when Basil had outed me in front of the whole school. He was generating new leverage. Anger stacked blood in my cheeks and head. My heart began to thunder as my fire grew teeth and gnashed against my ribcage.