“It’s not clear?” he finally asked in the wake of all these unasked questions. I shook my head. “I was trying to find my way to you, Joanna. Once it was clear where you’d gone, I decided to come get you. I wanted you back. Safe and sound.”
His hands fell again over my back, reminding me of the bruises there. Sound. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his chest. I wasn’t that…but as he pulled me close, dropping a kiss to my temple, smoothing back my hair with his smooth fingertips, I almost felt safe.
Then he spoke again. “C’mon. Let’s train.”
And he pulled me to the door, not knowing that what awaited me on the other side was the exact opposite of safe and sound.
“We have to drop back ten and punt, my friends,” Warren was saying as Hunter and I joined the rest of the troop in the shooting range. I scanned the cavernous room, quickly noting who was there and who wasn’t. Vanessa was absent, of course, probably given over to Chandra’s care since Micah was here, and a quick scan told me that Kimber had been omitted again. Dammit. My first thought had been to stick close to her, the weakest in our troop, during this training session. Though perhaps her absence was for the best. Her dislike of me had shifted into unconcealed hatred, and she would have probably used the opportunity to settle scores.
Not, I thought, something I could currently afford.
I turned back to Warren as I leaned against the plastic screen Felix, Jewell, and Riddick were clustered in front of, and fought to keep my thudding heart in check. It was beating too fast, and, though they didn’t seem to notice, I glanced back to find Hunter—arms crossed, one brow lifted—staring right at me. I jerked my head and turned away. Tekla was to the right of him and, though she had her eyes closed, she was always aware of her surroundings. Shit, we could probably communicate by mental telepathy, and she’d still know it.
Of course, our appearance together—and mine in particular—was also noted. Micah and Gregor managed to nod and merely look away, though Felix wiggled his brows, and Jewell blushed for me. Riddick looked more like he wanted to question me about Midheaven—they all probably did—but Warren had obviously already filled them in or told them to drop it until later. Probably both.
I crossed my arms self-consciously, and pulled Hunter’s sweatshirt tighter about me. Warren ignored the curious undercurrent and knowing glances that met our joint arrival, returning the group’s focus to the point at hand.
“Safe zones,” he said, positioning himself in the cavernous room’s center, “have now become the least safe places for us in this city. Therefore, we need to rethink our place in this valley—indeed, in our entire world.”
“You mean now that there’s no place for us to hide outside of the sanctuary.”
I automatically cringed. Gregor hadn’t meant it as criticism, but I still felt it as such.
Warren, though, uncharacteristically shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter.”
I tilted my head, unsure that I’d heard him right. “What?”
Warren fisted one hand on his hip, the other raking through his short, choppy hair. “Obviously I’d prefer if the Shadows were the ones hamstrung by a lack of safe zones, but we feel it as a loss only because we’ve known the alternative. This is what I mean by reconceptualizing our world. We must now reimagine our territory.”
“I’m sorry. Are you telling us to…think cheery thoughts?” Felix clearly hadn’t forgiven him for keeping them in the dark about Midheaven’s existence. “What? And it will all go away?”
“I’m saying check the attitude, son. Change your mind, and you can—”
“Change the world. Yeah, yeah. Got that memo.” Felix crossed his arms. “And we still have no safe zones.” He shot me an apologetic look when I ducked my head again, because his anger wasn’t for me. But Warren was too obtuse and stubborn and focused to note it, or care. “So what’s your suggestion, hide out in our sanctuary?”
“I suggest,” Warren said coldly, “that we don’t hide at all.”
An appropriately dead silence met that proclamation.
Warren’s mouth lifted at one side. “Inside the safe zones, we are vulnerable to our enemies’ weapons—”
“While they remain impervious to our own,” Tekla added, opening her eyes. I realized she already knew what Warren was going to say. However, the rest of us were still in the dark.
“But outside of those zones…”
Warren trailed off, waiting. And, slowly, one by one, understanding crept over each face. Outside of those zones, our weapons still worked. We could still fight. Hunter was the first to voice the new thought. “We just don’t enter the safe zones. We meet them, only and always, in our city.”
“That’s where we take our stand,” Riddick added, punching a fist into his opposite palm. “On the streets.”
“That’s our even ground,” Jewell added, with a lift of her chin.
“But we don’t do it alone. We do it back to back. In teams.” Warren jerked his head at our surgeon…and scientist. “Micah.”
Micah had moved to a table containing what looked like a fire extinguisher, and we all watched as he pointed the hose and nozzle toward himself. “This is a fortifying preservative. Chandra and I have been working on it for some time now. It defends against attack.”
He demonstrated by spraying his thigh with a mist that fell like a spider’s web over his frame before disappearing. Then he whipped his conduit, a pristine scalpel that caught light as if drawing it in…and plunged it into his leg.
Jewell screamed.
The scalpel bounced off of him…and the webbing rippled with the after-effects, then fell away, dissolving on the floor.
“And now I can be injured again.”
“So it’s a shield?” Gregor asked, touching the nozzle. A shimmering strand adhered to its tip like a piece of chewing gum as he pulled his finger away.
“More like a fire retardant over clothing. You’re safeguarded for exactly one strike.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “I mean, I can see its use if we’re ambushed, but why do we need a protective layer in training?”
“For the same reason Tekla just walled in the entire warehouse,” Warren cut in, joining Micah, and crossing his arms. “We’re in an all-out war, but right now the stakes are higher for us than for them. Right now we’re off-balance.”
“And in order to regain our footing,” Micah said, motioning with his reclaimed scalpel, “we need to train harder than they do.”
I was happy to don all the protective layering I could—I’d wear a hazmat suit everywhere but the shower if it meant unconditional safety—still, I was missing something. “But we’ve never worn protection while training before.”
“Because we’ve never done a live-fire exercise before.” He gestured to Micah and smiled. “Suit up.”
The others lined up to be sprayed like bugs, but I just stood there. Live fire. That meant full force. And that meant training with the intent to kill.
Friendly fire, live fire, playing with fire…I couldn’t afford any of it. So while everyone else crowded Micah like they were being crop-dusted, I slipped behind the plastic partitions and joined Warren. “I don’t have a conduit.”
He shrugged as he busied himself with what looked like a brand new iPhone. He hadn’t missed a beat in dropping his hobo cover. For some reason, it made me want to iSmack him. “Then work on your defense.”
Sure, no big deal to him. Throwing walls up into the air, like Tekla had when covering my retreat in Chinatown, was as important as remembering to hold your breath underwater. But if I missed? If I threw something up even a nanosecond late? Bye-bye defense, and bye-bye Jo.
“Jo! C’mon, it’s your turn!”
Warren turned his back to make a call, effectively shutting me out. So I trudged over to Micah, still searching for a way out of this without letting on that I wasn’t much more than a fast, bitchy mortal. “How protective is this coating?” I asked, as he sprayed my skin, clothing and hair. It felt l
ike roll-on antiperspirant gliding over my entire body. I sniffed, expecting to smell powdery.
“It’ll deflect any conduit once, no matter how hard the impact. Don’t worry.”
“Can I have two layers?”
He gazed down at me from his seven-foot height, and gave a fatherly sigh. “Now that’d be cheating, wouldn’t it?”
“But I’m the only one without a conduit,” I argued. “Two layers will even the playing field…and it’ll be better for my partner, too.”
“Nice try. But your partner can take care of him- or herself.”
He looked less sure of this when Warren named him as my partner, but it was too late. The preservative was back on the other side of the partitions. Meanwhile, Gregor and Jewell had paired up—a senior agent with a junior—as had Tekla and Riddick. Hunter was paired with Felix…two senior agents, and the strongest team here.
Warren, as usual, took the center spot in our huddle. “I want full force contact here, kids. Don’t hold back. These are Shadow agents. They’re trying to kill you, weaken your troop, and overtake your city.” He made eye contact with each of us before turning away. “Tekla will run the drill.”
“Wait,” I said, stepping forward. “Where will you be?”
“Back in the panic room.”
“Why?” Hunter asked, sounding wary.
Warren’s answer was a flat look. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Riddick twirled his conduit, a pencil-thin steel rod with hooks on the end, and everybody cringed. Dental tools. Fuck, they were scary. “So, um…once the protective layer’s breached, stop attacking?”
Tekla smirked, as she pulled out a weapon similar to my crossbow, though with a retracting chain and anchor. I’d seen her remove hearts with that, leaving behind a warm body, still standing. “We’re battling Shadow agents for the welfare of our city. A little reminder of what a conduit can do under controlled conditions won’t hurt anyone. Just be sure to pull that punch.”
A pulled punch, I thought with a sigh. Just a little something that could maim me. I dropped my head to my hands as I thought about battling my allies…for my life.
“What’s wrong with you?” Hunter asked, coming up behind me as I tried to decide if I was going to center myself so that I could fight effectively…or run for my life.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re tense all of a sudden.” He dropped a hand to my shoulder and I flinched, underlining his point. “You look worried about something.”
I glanced around. “No one else seems to think so.”
He leaned so close his breath stirred my hair. “No one else was living inside you a few hours ago.”
I swallowed hard, and looked away. Not just my body. My bloodstream and marrow. My heart and soul. We could all intuit moods more easily than mortals—with most people it was as simple as reading a magazine. Flip a page and the emotion was simply revealed there. Agents had the ability to disguise their emotions more easily too, synthetic compounds and strong wills helped with that—but he was right. I could still feel his warmth inside me, and I didn’t doubt it was the same for him.
“That’s why I wanted to be partnered with you.”
“Micah will have your back.”
Micah didn’t know my life was in his hands. Hunter felt my anxiety spike again at the thought.
“Why are you suddenly so afraid?”
Just tell him.
Tell him that I could now be injured and killed? And then he’d report it to Warren, who’d lock me away and treat me as shittily as he did Kimber. Like a nuisance, something that gave drag, deadweight to be discarded at the first given opportunity. And in spite of my wishes and the soft feelings Hunter had for me—perhaps even because of them—he’d support it. No, thank you.
I shrugged, but the movement was too jerky. “I just wish I had a conduit, you know?”
“The best offense is a good defense,” he said, unfurling a black, barbed whip. It was as wicked looking as the other conduits, though it gave Hunter a reach they didn’t have. Great. Now I had to keep from getting killed by my lover.
“Then a good offense,” I muttered, as he left to confer with Felix, “is massive artillery.”
We paired up, taking on cross-angles in the giant room, and I worked on settling myself. I could do this. This was training. Not remotely as difficult or dangerous as the battles I’d survived over the past year. I’d fight, deflect, and gain ground for Micah, and if it looked like I was going to be hit or overpowered, I’d either duck behind the giant man, or call the match. None of my allies was going to keep pounding at me if I called a truce, right?
We turned our back to the others, and Micah stretched, lifting his arms over his head. I looked straight up at ten feet of agent of Light. And Hunter thought he had reach.
“You’ve just gotta cover me,” Micah reassured, as if I didn’t know.
I gave him an obvious once over, from head to toe. “That’s a big fucking wall.”
We turned, looking at Tekla, as did the others. She remained supremely still, waiting until everyone was steeled in their stances, conduits palmed.
“Make the walls invisible,” Micah muttered from the side of his mouth. “That should buy us some time, and an advantage.”
Tekla jerked her head, a short nod, and we were off. Suddenly bodies whipped through the air, sticking in pairs as Warren decreed, individual strength doubled. As the weakest team, Micah and I were the biggest targets but this surprisingly worked to our advantage. Two of the three teams collided on their way to beat me down, which left Gregor and Jewell for us. I timed my first invisible wall perfectly and Gregor face-planted like a cartoon character. Micah actually laughed before lunging at the junior agent.
You had to give it to Jewell. Seven feet of big, mean motherfucker coming at her, and she only flinched a little. She had to wait until he got in close; her cover in the mortal world was that of a schoolteacher…and a party girl. In both instances, a set of fisted keys were not out of place…but Jewell’s keys locked around her knuckles once laced together, and each was honed to a lethal point. It still wasn’t an even match, not with Micah’s experience making his blade work extra dangerous, but she was fortunate enough to also be considered paranoid in the mortal world. So she had two sets of keys, one for each fist, in contrast to Micah’s sole weapon. In his mind, this clearly made them even. He swiped.
But by this time Gregor had ducked my wall, and his eyes flicked from Micah to me, first assessing…then knowing. Knock me out, and Micah would be his. Fortunately, Riddick came from nowhere to cut Gregor off with a leap and an agile slash of his hooked blade, which connected…and pulled Gregor’s web of protection free. It shimmered as it stretched from his body…then fell. Gregor leapt to safety, calling out his apologies as he left Jewell alone, and I turned my attention to Riddick.
“Box him in!” Micah called, as Jewell backed up. Riddick heard Micah’s orders, of course, but it was still a good idea. He, too, had to get in close, as his conduit wasn’t anything he could risk throwing.
The biggest problem now was Riddick’s partner, Tekla. Sure, this aptly illustrated the effectiveness of working in teams, but I was too busy trying to stay alive to appreciate it. She pointed her weapon at me, and the anchor imbedded in my wall so fast I was surprised I managed to raise it in time. She retracted the anchor, my wall fell, and we countered again. My wall shook this time. Fuck, she was strong. I doubled up, bent and crossed over my own body to shield Micah from Riddick…and that’s when I hit my groove.
If you’ve trained hard enough—and if you last long enough—there’s a point in every altercation where muscle memory takes over. It’s like a pilot getting everything set, then giving the plane over to autopilot. Make the right move at the right time and suddenly your whole being—body and thought and will—snaps into alignment. It’s the same feeling athletes get when they’re “in the zone.” I whirled, feinted, and suddenly my body was singing.
My stance was wide, arms extended full length, and I circled Micah, keeping close as I deflected left and then right, crossing arms, and at times, not even glancing in the direction of my deflections. I put up a wall so strong Tekla’s anchor got stuck. I held it, and another, while delivering a back kick that sent Jewell barreling into Hunter’s range. I erected walls that were both vertical and horizontal, climbing them, leaping twenty feet in the air…certainly no longer the weakest link.
Riddick decided to follow my lead, and drove up a wall between himself and Micah, then dropped it before charging the bigger, slower man. I raised another at the last second, buying Micah time and space to fall back, and when Tekla tried to do the same for Riddick, I flipped my wrist so that my wall spread horizontally, splicing her visible one so that it rose only to waist height. She gasped and turned on me, wide-eyed. Micah leapt, I kept the surface as strong as a table, and he dispatched Riddick with a single, deft slice.
Then Hunter’s whip appeared out of nowhere, and I screamed. The reaction was inappropriate—I was nowhere near the conduit, but had yelled as if I were—so Hunter’s head jerked my way, but it was already too late. The whip snapped and Micah’s protectant went down. Hunter, seeing the vulnerability, stood down so that Micah could clear the floor without mortal injury. Micah leapt, dropping f-bombs as he soared from the battle area, and Felix—Hunter’s partner—immediately began advancing upon me.
“Shit.” I backed up, knowing my fear was pumping out pheromones inappropriate for a training exercise, but I wasted no energy trying to stop them. Felix scented it, and like a Viking berserker in the throes of battle-lust, his eyes glazed over with martial fury. I slammed up three vertical walls in quick succession, which was a drain on my energy, and with every additional shield, the previous ones weakened. I whimpered.
“Jo?”
It was only a murmur, but Hunter’s concern cost him. He should have been covering Felix—and his own ass—but Jewell saw it and struck.
She caught him at his wrist, following up quickly, clearly expecting to miss. But she didn’t miss, and his whip dropped, skittering behind us like a sidewinder. That was enough to pull his web of coating away…and the follow-up nicked his arm. Jewell blanched as blood bloomed in the room, and looked as if she wanted to apologize. Someone gasped on the sidelines. But Hunter’s gaze was for me. He couldn’t stay, of course. Live fire was now as dangerous for him as it was for me, and Tekla and Felix, battling hard, probably hadn’t seen his disarmament.
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