by E. J. Mellow
“Check it out! I’ve never been able to do a split before!” I throw out my hands dramatically, like I’ve seen Olympic gymnasts do on TV, and hold my pose.
Rae blinks at me, deadpan.
“Not the right time?” I ask, continuing to hold out my arms.
He shakes his head while pressing his lips together, as if to keep from smiling. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“But…” I look down. “Split.”
Rae’s composure finally cracks, and he laughs. “Okay, get up.” He walks over, still chuckling. “Come on, get up. If you stay like that any longer, I won’t be able to wipe the image of your goofy, proud smile from my mind for days.” He helps me stand. “And I already have issues with concentrating as it is.”
“We call that ADHD on Earth, and sorry,” I say sheepishly. “Just found that to be pretty cool.”
He pats me on the back. “Trust me—that’s only the beginning of cool.”
“I don’t know. Splits are high up there on the cool scale.”
“All right.” Rae rolls his eyes. “Enough with the horse dancing.”
I blink at him. “Uh, horse dancing?”
“Yeah, you know, fooling around—horse dancing.”
“Rae.” I hold back a snort. “I think you mean horsing around.”
“Never heard of it. Now get over here.” He positions me in the center of the mat as I swallow back a grin. Horse dancing. “Okay, we’re going to see what you’ve obtained in your lessons with Elena. I’m going to come at you with no instruction at first.” He takes a couple of steps back and stands with his legs apart, looking like a predator about to pounce on its prey. Fun time is clearly over.
Taking in his new posture, I surprisingly find myself balancing on my heels, ready to move with his attack, but even so I can’t help the unease that rushes through me. The memories of my predecessors have revealed that we have done this many times before, but I personally have never fought another person my whole life. How can I possibly know how to engage a well-trained Vigil?
“Uh…maybe we should start with the basics first, then get into the all-out full-body contact?” I say with a shaky smile, all previous joking aside. What’s up with everyone here rushing into training? Dev did a similar technique when provoking my powers, except in his version he was throwing rocks and flaming arrows at my head. Such a sweetheart.
“We’ll definitely do that, but this is a good test to see how much latent ability you’ve picked up.”
With no more warning, he lunges forward, and I instinctively twist my body away, completely shocked to find myself crouching down and sweeping a leg out to trip him. Rae firmly hits the mat, and we’re both silent, me wide eyed, staring down at him, and Rae slowly smiling back.
“I’m so sorry!” I attempt to help him up, but he pushes me away.
“No apologies. That was outstanding. It seems the onboarding with Elena went perfectly.” He rubs his backside as he stands.
“I still don’t understand how I could do that. I’ve never done anything like that in my life!”
“You haven’t, but the ones before you have. Each one of you is connected through centuries of duty. All the Dreamers Elena showed today—you didn’t only transfer their memories, but you’ve also inherited their training. Everything they were ever taught for combat, you have now been taught. You might not currently know the extent of it, but that’s what this training is for. To awaken it, for you to experience it firsthand and feel comfortable using it again.”
This is wild. Could I really be able to do all the things I saw the other Dreamers do? I flex my hands, feeling a weird sense of power in them, like they know exactly what Rae is speaking of even if I—Molly Spero—do not.
“Come on. Let’s practice blocks.” Rae tucks his head behind his hands, like a boxer getting ready for a punch. “Show me your fighting stance,” he says with a nod.
Some part of me knows exactly what he’s referring to, and before I have time to think about it, I move my right primary kicking leg back—because now I guess I have a primary kicking leg—and my left leg forward. With my body turned to the side, knowing this makes me a smaller target, I bend my knees slightly for easy movability and raise my hands eye level, making them into fists.
What the…
“Perfect. Now let’s begin.”
Rae quickly punches out with his right hand, and I easily block it and step to the side. He comes at me with his other fist, and I block that as well. This feels foreign and comfortable all at once. Like I’ve danced these steps many times before, but it’s been a while. My muscles contract and respond with speed and grace I never ever associated with myself, and I can’t help but laugh.
“This is nuts!” I exclaim excitedly, so caught up in my glee that I miss Rae’s other hand, which flashes forward, smacking me palm-out in the chest.
Both the air in my lungs and I get knocked to the ground. I lay there for a moment, coughing and gasping.
“First rule in fighting, never let your guard down.” Rae holds out his hand. “Sorry about that, but I’m bound to get one or two in, so might as well do it early.”
“God, that hurt,” I say, rubbing my chest.
“There are many things that can hurt a lot worse, but hopefully you’ll never have to endure it.”
“So is this you being the tough teacher?” I ask ruefully, hesitant to show him I’m ready to continue, still smarting from that smackdown.
Rae laughs. “If you think I’m tough, just hope you never spar with Dev.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“If you ever thought you didn’t like Dev now…just wait.” He flashes a secretive smile.
Ugh, so not looking forward to that.
“Okay, let’s continue. You won’t have this much time after getting knocked down by a Metus to catch your breath. You’ll need to respond right away. Back into your stance.”
And so it goes for the next couple of hours, Rae commenting on some of my form and complimenting me on other crazy moves I seem to inherently know and act upon. With each passing minute, I grow more and more confident in the abilities I’ve acquired, and I begin to shut down my brain and move instinctually, letting my muscle memory guide my hands, feet, and body to where they need to go to defend myself. At certain points in my training, I lose track of which Dreamer I am and move into the body and mind of the Dreamers from the past. When this happens, I tend to find myself standing above Rae after knocking him to the ground.
This isn’t to say that I don’t get my fair share of butt being whupped. I know I’ll have some colorful, blossoming bruises and more than plenty of sore muscles from the sudden strain of use. But none of it is enough to douse the all-out, mind-boggling, holy shit I can really do all this euphoria I have pumping in my veins. Screw self-defense classes—everyone just needs some time in the Dreamer Memory Chair.
I’m sweaty and breathing hard as I face off against Rae again, our bodies moving around each other in a large circle. I watch his muscles and eyes for any clue of his next move. I’m not even certain what kind of fighting we’re doing. My abilities come from many different techniques and teachings, another hint of the diversity that were my predecessors.
Rae’s neck slightly tenses, and I’m more than ready when his arm swings out to catch me right between my ribs. Blocking his hit, I place my other hand on the outside of his forearm, straining his reach and twirling out of his path. I aggressively pin his hand behind him and without losing a beat kick the back of his knee, bringing him to the mat.
Clapping echoes in the room, and I glance up to find Dev casually leaning against the wall next to the door. His eyes are narrowed with appraisal, and his mouth is half-cocked in his signature amused smile. “Impressive,” he says as he pushes off the wall and slowly walks toward us. His sudden appearance and graceful saunter rock me out of my fighting mind-set. I take in his broad shoulders and the way his shirt hugs him like a jealous girlfriend
.
Letting go of Rae, I tuck strands of hair that fell from my ponytail behind my ear, suddenly aware of how sweaty I am.
“Thanks.”
“I’d like to see what you could do against a real opponent,” he says with a smirk, crossing his arms. The stance calls attention to his biceps, the same ones I once found myself mortifyingly squeezing.
I leer at him. “And I’m sure you think you’re said opponent?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Rae fluidly stands from his fall and drapes an arm around me. “Molly here is a natural.”
I snort out a laugh. “And I’m sure retaining past Dreamers’ abilities has nothing to do with it.”
“Don’t be so modest.” He squeezes my shoulder.
“Have you practiced with any weapons yet?” Dev moves toward an empty wall in the center of the room. Placing a hand on it, the area drops out, revealing a rack of diverse armament. There’s an abundance of blades, and my eyes pause on two hook swords, knowing how they feel in my grip, before traveling on to the axes, clubs, daggers, unusual looking guns, and blunt staffs. Here is where Dev stands, taking out two Bō—a Japanese long staff weapon. Somehow I know all the names and uses of these objects, except for some of the guns. Those remain foreign.
The only difference with these weapons and the ones I’d find at home is the material in which they are made—the same strange gunmetal aluminum as the Arcus. And if my memories from past Dreamers are anything to go by, they can be filled with an altered form of Navitas, making them glow the hot blue-white, and lethal toward any opponent.
“I was saving that part of the training for later,” Rae explains soberly.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Dev asks, handling the Bō naturally as he walks back to us. “She seems to have grasped her hand-to-hand combat for today. Why not finish with a little sparring?”
“See what I mean about the tough teacher,” Rae mutters to me.
“What do you say, Molly? Care to give me a go?” Dev taunts, holding one Bō while twirling the other.
I narrow my eyes and extend a hand. “I know I won’t hear the end of it until I do.”
He gives me one of his sexy grins while throwing me the staff. I snatch it from the air, immediately knowing I’ve been trained in the art of bōjutus.
I smile back.
Oh, it’s on.
As if reading my thoughts and without any further warning, Dev sweeps toward me. His intense blue eyes are the last things I register before my mind switches off and I lunge back.
— 5 —
OUR BŌ CONNECT with a clank, and I twirl away gripping my staff in thirds, swinging it around to block another hit. I move like it’s an extension of my arm, using my back hand for power and my front for guidance. The memories of the many times I’ve practiced with this staff swim around me.
Dev drops, sweeping the ground to trip me, but I jump just in time.
We face off again, Dev’s amused expression never wavering. I thrust out, and he meets my attack. We go back and forth, hitting and blocking the ends of our Bō from reaching one another. At one point I kick out, but he slaps my leg away. I wince in pain, frustration blossoming.
“Is that all you got, midnight?” he goads.
I’m surprised when a growl escapes me at the sound of his new favorite pet name, and I charge forward, spinning my stick fast and true, waiting for the satisfying thwak that will sound when it connects to his shoulder. It never comes. Instead I’m met with a sting to my back and fall forward, Dev moving with lightning speed to deliver the blow.
What the…
Crouching, I thrust backward to where I feel him standing, but my stick meets air. Another smack lashes my arm, followed by a low chuckle. I roll away and stand. Panting hard, my vision goes in and out of focus as Dev dashes from side to side at a dizzying speed.
In all of Terra…how is he doing that?
I barely make him out as he runs toward me. With a flick of his stick, he takes out my legs, and I hit the mat hard, feeling his Bō press against my throat as he pins me to the floor. Cocksure eyes gleam down as Dev’s muscular chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing. “I have to admit, I like seeing you under me,” he says with a quirk of his mouth.
I lose it. With a yell, and without thinking, I call up my power. Throwing my hand forward, I release a burst of air smack into Dev’s chest, sending him flying. He lands with a thump a couple of yards away.
Rae’s laughter brings me out of my rage, and I slump back on elbows.
Whoa.
“That was badass!” Rae beams. “Oh man. I wish more people were around to see that.” He helps Dev up. “I bet you’ll think twice about antagonizing our girl again.”
Dev’s gaze sparks with something that twists my stomach in knots. “On the contrary. I like a woman who fights dirty.”
“Me fight dirty?” I push up from the floor. “Um, who was the one that suddenly could move, like, superhuman fast? Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” I glance to Rae suspiciously. “Were you holding out on me?” How come I can’t recall the Vigil’s speed?
Dev chuckles smugly.
“Nocturna are generally faster than Vigil,” Rae explains. “I can move pretty fast, but not that fast. They are mainly created to protect and guard, so speed is a…requirement of being Nocturna.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be more than happy to give you another try.” Dev leans on his staff. “Who knew you could learn so much in a day. I’d like to see what other”—his gaze lingers up my body—“talents you’ve acquired.”
“Pfft. You wish.” I eye roll.
There’s a blur of movement before Dev’s right in front of me. “Is that a challenge?” he asks darkly, and I swallow, keeping myself from taking a startling step back but unable to stop my attention from going to his lips.
Rae clears his throat. “All right, that’s it for today.” He claps his hands together. “Really good work, Molly.”
I blink and turn from Dev, pushing aside the unease he so easily evokes.
“We’ll pick it up again tomorrow.” Rae takes our staffs, placing them back in the rack. “I’m also going to give you a regime to follow when you’re back in New York. You’ll need to do conditioning both here and when you’re awake. It’s not going to come as easily there, but we’ll need you in top shape to maximize your potential. And don’t worry. I’ll be there for that training too,” he says with a wink. “Gotta make sure you’re not slacking.”
I groan, wondering if I’ll have to run as part of my conditioning. I’ve always hated running. It doesn’t seem as cool as learning these talents I’ve inherited. Rolling my shoulders, I test how strained my muscles are from overuse. They’re definitely sore, but in a strangely pleasurable way. I’ve never felt so physically accomplished before. I would have assumed I’d be passed out on the ground right about now, but I’m surprisingly more awake than ever. Like Rae said earlier, I do feel a bit like a badass.
“I don’t know about you guys, but that definitely built up my appetite.” Rae pats his stomach.
“Everything builds up your appetite,” Dev says dryly.
“Hey, can I help it if I’m a growing Vigil?” Rae walks to the exit. “Come on. Let’s show Molly how we eat here in Terra.”
—∞—
After grabbing a quick shower in one of the changing stations, which felt more like a five-star spa—rain forest–style showerheads and side jets, yes please—we make it up and out of the Dreamer Containment Center, but not before running into Alec, who said he’d be waiting first thing tomorrow to escort me to my Navitas training. For as starched and folded as he is, I rather enjoy him.
Dev and Rae lead me to the west side of the city, an area they call The Market.
“There’s restaurants and stuff like that throughout the city, but if you want to see where it all comes from, eat the freshest of the fresh, you come here.” Rae retracts his Arcus and follows Dev down the land
ing platform.
We hit the sidewalk and are immediately swallowed into the crowd. Nocturna and Vigil mill around, talking and placing orders in front of vendor stands that are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Pristine white glowing cubes line either side of the road, their facades illuminated with strange symbols and images of what’s being sold. The merchants inside stand behind miniature circular pods that are laid out like a stovetop.
Stopping in front of a vendor that’s selling fish, I watch a patron click on a hovering screen in front of him that reflects the menu above. Just as he selects a fish, there’s instantly a bright flash of light, and a live flopping salmon appears on one of the empty circles in front of the merchant. He zaps it with some black square device—rendering it still—scoops it up, covers it with glossy silver paper, and hands it to the consumer. It’s all quick, painless, and practiced. The next patron steps up to place her order.
“Where are the fish coming from?” I ask as my eyes travel over the endless cubes that fill the street, all selling different things but in a similar fashion. What at first seemed disorganized and chaotic now seems to move like a well-oiled machine, no pushing each other to be heard over the next person, or fighting for a spot up front. The natural behavior in a Manhattan market is nowhere to be found here. I have to say, it’s kind of creepy.
“That’s where we’re headed,” Rae explains.
Taking side streets away from the primary market, we cut back onto a main road a few blocks down, and I halt when I take in the structure at the end. Rising higher than any other building is a giant biodome. The round glass-clad ceiling seems to touch the night sky, and the light from within illuminates tall trees of many variants, from northern evergreens at one end all the way to tropical palms at the other. And I don’t know if it’s my eyes betraying me, but I think I see clouds.
Holy Mother Nature.
I walk forward in a daze, craning my neck farther back the closer we get. “We’re going to eat in there?”