by Julie Hall
With a sigh, my body melted into his hard chest. The quickening of my pulse now had nothing to do with the demon stalking us, and I forgot why we were kissing. A moment later, when Logan pulled back slightly, I found myself stunned, and a small sound of protest slipped out of my throat. He looked down at me with lidded eyes. Like always, his steel-blue gaze held me prisoner. We were both breathing far too quickly.
“I think it worked,” he said huskily. I was close enough to feel the words vibrate in his chest.
The sound of his voice snapped me out of my daze. Right! The demon! The kiss was to throw the demon off us, and it had been my idea. My earlier embarrassment flooded back. One of my hands rested on his chest and the other was still buried in his thick, soft hair. I felt his heart beating through his shirt, almost as fast as mine.
With a small gasp, I yanked my hand out of his hair and pushed against his chest to free myself. But his hold on me tightened, and I found I couldn’t move. He tilted his head down to bring his mouth close to my ear. His breath caressed my neck, and his thumb was now making lazy circles on my cheek.
“Hold still. It’s still out there.”
My body immediately tensed, and he felt it. “It’s okay. I just want to get a little more distance between us.”
Logan held me close, trapped between his arms and chest, for what seemed to be a few more minutes. My heart beat wildly, and my whole body remained tense. What had just happened?
Finally, Logan used the hand under my chin to force me to look up at him.
“Are you all right?”
His blue stare captured me. He should not be allowed to be dead with those eyes.
It took me a second to find my voice. “Yeah,” was all I could squeak out.
“That was pretty quick thinking.”
I did not want to talk about that kiss, especially since we were still in a “fake” embrace. I put pressure on Logan’s chest again, and this time he released me. I took a few shaky steps back and looked anywhere but at him. The air felt hotter than it had under the midday sun. My mind grasped for a way to escape the discomfort.
“So where do we go from here?”
Logan took a moment before answering. When he did, there was a change in his voice. He was all business again. “We have to find the backup extraction point. I don’t want to go back to the beach tonight. I think I know of another one in the area, though.”
“How do we know we won’t be followed?”
“I’ll be more careful this time. I should have seen the last one coming from a mile away. I was distracted.”
I snuck a look at Logan. He wasn’t looking at me. He had a shoulder leaned against the wall of the stand and was scanning the crowd behind me. He looked both casual and alert.
Where had Logan been when I got to the beach? I was about to ask when he straightened and quickly brushed past me.
“Come on,” he said as he passed.
He stopped at the boardwalk to wait for me. Serious Logan was back, and for once, I was glad of it. I bent over to grab my discarded items. I must have dumped them on the ground when I attacked Logan. He didn’t grab my hand this time when he stepped out into the crowd. I was glad about that too.
We walked along the boardwalk in silence. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to still make it appear that we were together. It was probably the most awkward moment of my life. Or so I would guess, since I couldn’t remember any of the other moments.
Shaking my head in chagrin, I realized I had been right about one thing: change had definitely arrived.
11
The Day After
Is there a word stronger than “awkward”? If so, multiplying that by twenty would describe what it was like to be in the training gym with Logan the day after our trip to Earth.
We’d returned the evening before and were immediately directed to fill out a report on “the incident.” I’d mumbled through some answers before finally claiming a headache, hiding from Logan as much as from the questions. Logan stayed to finish the report while I fled. I cringed to think of what he’d revealed.
I lay awake half the night thinking of other ways we could have escaped the demon. We could have hidden behind a building, pretended to be in line for cotton candy, taken an empty seat on one of the rides, or jumped off a high bridge into shallow water. So many attractive options. Why couldn’t I have thought of one of those?
Hunters swarmed our training gym in the morning, wanting to know all the details. I wished we’d come up with something clever to tell people other than that we’d made out. And that it was my idea.
“Hey Audrey, I hear you knew the demon was coming or something? That you could feel it? What’s the deal with that?”
The curious question came from someone to my right. This was a safe topic. Some of the murmur died down.
“Yeah, well, it’s hard to explain, but I just kind of knew it was gaining on us and generally where it was. It felt like a pressure. Or maybe a smell, but it was a smell that wasn’t a smell, ya know?”
Apparently the articulate part of my brain was in the off position.
The guy, most likely trying to help by changing the subject, veered to a topic that caused my stomach to jump to my throat.
“Well, what did you guys do to shake it? I’d love to hear how you gave it the slip when it was already on to you.”
Heavy silence hung in the air as they waited for an answer, hoping to discover a secret for bluffing a demon. A sea of faces full of anticipation. My cheeks heated and my mind buzzed. My “technique” could not be duplicated—not by this bunch of meatheads, anyway. I couldn’t think of what to say.
An unexpected rescue came from across the room. “Audrey pulled us between two of the stands.”
“And it didn’t see you guys? That didn’t look suspicious?”
“We tried very hard to look inconspicuous.”
The way Logan said it gave finality to the answer. There was a disappointed murmur throughout the crowd, evidence that the muscle-bound hunters didn’t understand the logic. “Sorry it’s not more exciting. We were lucky to have gotten out of there unscathed. And if you guys don’t mind, we’ve got to get back to training so the next time we won’t have to do so much hiding.”
There were a few chuckles from the crowd at the not-too-subtle dismissal, but they got the point and dispersed.
My feeling of relief was short-lived. It was only after the last person left and the doors slammed shut that I reluctantly turned in Logan’s direction. Taking a deep breath, I looked him in the eyes. His clear gaze stared back, and his familiar stoic expression was in place. That, in a way, was oddly comforting.
“Do we need to talk about this?” His voice was flat and to the point.
“Nope,” I answered just as directly.
“You sure?
“Yep.”
“Okay then, let’s get back to work.”
And with that, the matter appeared to be closed. But I couldn’t shake the awkwardness of simply being around him.
Before yesterday, I’d spent a good amount of time imagining Logan getting his butt kicked by one of the other hunters or losing his balance and falling on his face. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit he’d always had unquestionable good looks going for him, but he drove me so crazy I never cared. He yelled at me, pushed me past my limits, made me train when I didn’t want to, and remained a constant reminder of every strength I didn’t possess.
Now, what I thought of Logan was all jumbled up, and I didn’t like that. I’d even arrived a few minutes late this morning because I couldn’t decide what to wear.
The change in my behavior was not welcome. How could one stupid fake kiss change so much so quickly? I was resolved to get back to where we’d been before, even if that meant being at each other’s throats. At least that made sense to me.
Only I wasn’t sure how to make that happen.
Logan was characteristically quiet as he went across the room. I tracked his movemen
ts as he bent over and pulled something metallic out of his bag. He brought it to me, stopping with a gulf of space between us. He tossed the object. I snatched it from the air before it collided with my face. Perhaps my reflexes were improving.
Pinching a section, I rubbed it back and forth between my fingers. It was some sort of fabric or bendable metal, incredibly smooth and slick, almost like reptile skin. I held one end up and let the rest drop to the floor—a garment. It made a faint clinking noise as it fell.
“It’s your body armor.”
Oh.
“It’s what we wear for hunting. It creates a barrier so the demons can’t create an empathy link with us, and it protects us from getting physically hurt. It’s very difficult to cut through.”
I took my eyes from the material and looked up at him.
“You were wearing this the first day we met, weren’t you? When you sparred with Alrik?”
That had been the first time I’d seen anyone dematerialize anything. The sight of the armor melting off Logan had been shocking. That day seemed lifetimes ago.
“I was. Sometimes we wear it when sparring—it’s good to be accustomed to it. It’s incredibly strong. You know chain mail, right?”
“Huh? Like a spam e-mail you’re supposed to pass on to everyone you know?” I couldn’t see how that had anything to do with the bundle in my hands.
A small smile snuck its way onto Logan’s lips before they flat-lined again. “I believe you are thinking of chain letters. Chain mail is a type of armor. They used it in the Middle Ages. It’s made from metal linked together.” He linked his fingers together to demonstrate.
“Oh right, that.” I ducked my head in embarrassment.
“Well, this material is similar except the links are unimaginably small. And it’s made from a metal that’s not found on Earth. That’s what makes it so light but still strong and protective.”
“That’s pretty cool, actually.” I brought the material up to my eyes. Despite closing one eye and squinting at the armor, I couldn’t discern the weave. It looked completely smooth, like a flat sheet of metal.
“Anyway,” Logan continued, “I figured since our adventure yesterday, it’s time for you to start learning about our fighting gear. It’s what you’ll be wearing the next time you face a demon. So you need to go and get that on.”
“It goes right over my clothes?”
“Yes. It will form to whatever you’re wearing and create shields for extra protection on vulnerable areas of your body.”
Logan materialized his own armor covering. Shadows clung to his form, and an instant later solidified into a full body covering.
As I remembered it, his suit was made of closely fitting metal armor. His shins and thighs were covered with extra plates, the ones on his shins stretching low enough to cover his ankles as well. A belt encircled his hips, complete with a scabbard encasing his sword. A breastplate protected his chest, and similar plates of metal shielded his arms. From the neck down, whatever parts of him weren’t fortified by a metal plate were covered with metallic material, including his hands and feet.
The armor made him look like a cross between a medieval warrior and Batman. Logan wore it as if he were born to do so.
I really did need to learn how to materialize things better. It was going to save me tons of time. I looked down, doubtful that what I had in my hands was the same thing Logan had just materialized. I grimaced at my mental picture of myself in the armor.
“Okay, Show-Off,” I said lightly enough so he would know I was kidding, “I’ll go put mine on.”
Logan didn’t crack a smile, but his jaw twitched—as if he was clenching his teeth to keep his mouth shut. He really was in rare form; as if he couldn’t decide what his mood should be.
I pushed through the training gym’s doors, forcing Logan and his moods out of my mind, and walked toward the girl’s locker room. Empty. I turned the fabric over in my hands, trying to find an opening to insert a limb. I was baffled. The armor rolled through my fingers like slippery seaweed as I searched for a seam or some kind of shape.
“It’s easier to put on if you hold it right-side up.”
Startled, I dropped the material. It landed on the ground with hardly a sound. I spun.
Resting a shoulder against one of the lockers was a girl dressed in black-and-pink workout clothes. She was tall and lean with honey-tanned skin. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that brushed her right shoulder. My hair never looked that good in the sporty do, but it both fit and complimented her features perfectly. She reminded me of a beach volleyball player—not overly muscled like the guys, but well-toned.
And gorgeous.
I gaped as she continued talking, repeating herself as if I hadn’t understood the first time. “You know, the armor.” She gestured toward the heap on the floor. “You need to hold it the right way to get it on.” She was smiling, but I wondered if it was really a smirk.
“Oh, well, that’s news to me,” I answered with bite to my words. Why hadn’t Logan explained that?
“Whoa there.” She pushed her shoulder off the locker and put her hands up in front of her in an “I mean no harm” manner. Two perfect eyebrows rose. “Listen, it just looked like you needed some help.”
“Sorry.” I blew out a frustrated breath and forced a smile. “I’ve just been a little stressed lately. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s one of those days, you know?” I looked down at the material at my feet and bent to pick it up.
She nodded as if she understood, her smile still in place. I couldn’t shake the suspicion she was laughing at me.
“So, ah, could you tell me which side is right-side up?”
“Here, do you mind?” She plucked it from my hands. “You see this?” She showed me an almost indistinguishable bulge in the material. “You need to hold it there.”
When she demonstrated, the armor magically took form. There was clear definition between the top and the bottom as well as where your limbs were supposed to go.
She continued, “Then you see there’s a seam here that acts kind of like a zipper. You slide it down in order to step into it.”
She handed the bundle back to me right side up. I quickly found the seam she was talking about. I lifted my head to say “thanks” only to catch a glimpse of her back as she exited the locker room.
Now that was weird. Who was she? Another hunter? There were other female hunters, but besides Romona, I hadn’t seen any, and frankly, I’d hardly given them much thought.
But if I had done so, that girl was what I would have imagined. Nothing like me. Whereas her limbs were long and toned, mine felt short and weak. Her posture oozed confidence; mine usually radiated clumsiness.
The new feelings bubbling up inside were ugly. I shoved them down.
Giving my head a shake, I forced my mind back to the task at hand, which was getting into this ridiculous outfit. Twenty minutes later, I achieved victory.
I was taken aback when I faced the mirror. Mine was obviously a girl version of the suit. The metal plates that covered my legs, chest, and arms were less pronounced and more delicate. The armor fit like a second skin, as much as it did Logan. I looked like some sort of futuristic, comic-book warrior queen. All I needed now was dark, smudgy makeup and a few purple highlights. Perhaps looking the part would help with my training?
I threw a few practice kicks and punches at the air in front of the mirror. The suit still felt slightly cumbersome despite its sleekness. It was going to take some getting used to . . . but I was willing to put the work in. I definitely looked more hardcore now.
I was in a decisively good mood as I marched down the hallway back to the training gym. I received some curious stares and someone even whistled at me, which in a weird way helped increase my confidence as much as it tinted my face. I was giving myself a silent pep talk when light, singsong laughter wafted out from our training gym. I stood on tiptoes to peer through one of the door’s high windows. It was a prec
arious position to say the least, but it offered a view of the whole gym.
Logan was standing in the middle with the girl from the locker room, facing her with an easy smile on his face. He said something, and the girl tilted her head back to laugh, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder at the same time. She leaned in closer and put a hand on his armored bicep, whispering something in his ear. Logan smiled and nodded at her when she pulled back.
That same ugliness gurgled in my chest once again. It nettled me immensely that she had touched him so familiarly, and even more so that he didn’t seem to mind.
A hand on my back scared me so much I yelped and pitched forward, smashing through the gym doors with a crash and landing sunny-side down on the floor. I somehow managed to elbow myself in the stomach on impact, knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasped for breath on the ground, my face squished to the padded floor. I seriously needed to get better at reacting to the unexpected.
Logan and the girl looked up from their conversation with matching expressions. My attacker quickly stepped forward and offered me a hand up.
“Oh man, sorry about that, Audrey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I craned my neck to look up. It was Kevin. Tall and lankier than most of the warriors, Kevin was nevertheless imposing. He glanced down at me and then at Logan and the girl, and then back at me again. The look on his face said he realized what an awkward situation this was.
“Ah, yeah, it’s no problem,” I mumbled hastily and accepted his offered hand. He practically dislocated my shoulder jerking me to my feet.