I said way too much when we were stuck in that cave. Regret should be worming its way through my stomach, and yet, it’s something else. Something like relief.
Our hands brush against each other and we both jump. Ugh, I’m losing it.
“So Cathwell managed to hold her own again?” Johann asks. She handled herself last time, too. Maybe she’s more capable than I thought. “Pretty good for someone who’s been out of practice for two and a half years.”
Mendel’s eyes don’t leave his papers and I don’t offer an answer. It’s Kitahara who says, “Perhaps she practiced on her own. If General Austin was aware, then it’s no wonder he called her back. She’s a great fighter.”
I smile, then shake my head and frown. Seriously, what is wrong with me today? “Your intuition was good since you knew something was wrong, but you need to pay more attention to your surroundings,” I say. “Don’t rely on your gift too much.”
Kitahara blinks and looks down at the freshly bandaged cut on his arm. “Sorry. It was my mistake.”
“What about that guy you were fighting?” Mendel asks. “Devin, was it?”
My lip curls. “Don’t know.” I couldn’t read his thoughts, which was deeply disconcerting, but I’m almost glad I couldn’t. I’d hate to see what was going on behind those violence-crazed eyes.
And that group of rebels we’d been tracking. When I listened to their thoughts as they first appeared, they were at ease. Just passing through. They didn’t know anything about the ambush or the part they were going to play in it until they got the message to double back and help Devin. Ellis knew I’d be instantly aware of a trap if anyone in on the plan actually knew about it. She sent those rebels out clueless just to counter me.
But what really hurts is the knowledge that if neither Kitahara nor I could use our gifts on Devin, he must have a power crystal from Gabriel. One of the Order’s original members. Someone who was an older brother to all of us. Someone I can’t imagine turning his back on us to fight with the rebels.
He wouldn’t. He’s better than that. I know he is. Surely he couldn’t have changed that much in the last two and a half years. Right?
“Did he say anything?” Mendel asks.
It takes a second to come out of my thoughts and remember he’s talking about Devin. “Words.”
“You know what I mean,” Mendel snaps. Why did he know my name what did he mean do I know him why.
“Calm down,” Kitahara says. “He didn’t say anything of importance, just his name and some threats.” But even as he says it, he looks at me. Why did he attempt to take Cathwell with him?
I don’t meet his gaze.
Mendel’s jaw locks. He signs off on the bottom of his papers, shoves them to Kitahara, and leaves without another word.
“Did a Feral jump him or what?” Johann asks. Kitahara and Cathwell are being weird today, too. What’s with everyone?
I have to bite back a comment about “being weird today.” If even Johann has picked up on something, I really must be acting odd. And not in the usual way.
Kitahara only shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’s been acting strange ever since we returned—no, even before that. Then again, you were oddly cooperative yesterday as well.”
Johann looks up from her papers to find Kitahara watching her with a neutral expression. If I wasn’t a mind reader, it’d be hard to tell what he’s thinking.
“I haven’t been any different from usual,” Johann says.
“You followed orders without objecting once and didn’t nearly kill a teammate,” Kitahara says. “You’ve actually been getting along with everyone.”
I can feel the flicker of fire in Johann’s thoughts as strongly as if she’d summoned physical flames. “Are you saying I wasn’t good enough before?”
“I’m only saying you weren’t as willing to work with the team previously.” Kitahara’s tone is as neutral as his expression, merely stating a fact. It makes it hard for Johann to fuel her anger. “I didn’t mean to imply anything negative. But why the sudden change?”
Cathwell coming into my room, telling me she knows my secret. “I just decided a change was necessary.” Johann crosses her arms, daring Kitahara to contradict her. He raises an eyebrow and Johann remembers he can sense lies. Guilt replaces the earlier fire in her thoughts, but she says, “Any problems with that?”
“No. I’m rather glad for it, actually.” I can hear the sigh Kitahara’s holding back.
“I’m done with my report,” Johann says, another lie. She knows it’s done half-heartedly, but she doesn’t want to work on it any longer. That, and all of us are getting on her nerves, which I take some offense to. I’ve barely even spoken.
But again, Kitahara doesn’t call her out on it. He only shakes his head. “You’re free to go. I’ll contact you again when I’ve received further orders.”
I watch Johann exit and then lean back in my chair. “Guess that leaves the reports to you and me, then, huh?”
“You can go if you want,” Kitahara says. “I can take care of this.”
“Is that what you always did before?” I ask. “In Eastern? You told the people you worked with you’d take care of things and then they left you to do all the work?”
He frowns at me. It’s different from the looks he gave Mendel and Johann. “What makes you think that?”
“It seems like the sort of thing you’d do,” I say. He opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but I wave away whatever he’s about to say. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. But you don’t need to take everything on by yourself. We’ll do it together, like a team should.”
He stares at me over the tops of his glasses for a long moment. “Okay.” His happiness is practically tangible. He likes the idea of being part of a team. It’s a shame he got placed on such a radioactive one. “Together, then.”
* * *
That afternoon, Johann goes looking for me. Her thoughts are so loud with their strength and intent, I can hear them three floors away. Well. Guess I’d better go greet her, then.
She goes a few different places searching for me before I catch up to her. Our room, the mess hall, then to Mendel and Kitahara’s room to see if I went to pay either of them a visit.
By the sounds of the thoughts, it’s Mendel who answers the door. He and Al are obviously talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying, only what they’re thinking.
Why’s Mendel been so surly since yesterday I thought he was more laid-back.
Ugh I really don’t want to deal with Johann right now. Why can’t he take a hint and go away?
What the hell I just asked if Cathwell was here what’s with the attitude.
If this guy doesn’t shut up and leave he’s going to find himself stuck in the ceiling.
I round the corner just in time to catch Johann’s next words. “You’re the one who’s been acting like a malfunctioning Watcher ever since we got back. You keep snapping at everyone—even Cathwell, who’s barely paying attention half the time.”
Despite still being some distance away, I can see Mendel’s bright green eyes burn as he gets right up in Johann’s face. This idiot doesn’t have a clue. “Don’t talk to me about Cathwell. She’s—”
I cough. “Hello.”
Mendel and Johann both spin around to face me. The former reluctantly backs off. He straightens his collar while looking steadily past my shoulder. “Cathwell. Johann was looking for you.”
“I know.”
“Can you come see me after he’s done with you?”
“But I can see you right now. You’re right there.”
Mendel shuts the door.
I turn to Johann. “You needed something?”
Her original purpose in trying to find me returns and her energy sparks up again. “I’ve never really seen you fight, and I need to know my teammates’ strengths,” she says. “Train with me today.”
I consider her request. There’re so many soldiers out and about, all their thoughts melding to
gether to pound in my head like so many marching feet, that it’s a struggle to stay focused on what she said. Eventually, I nod. “All right.”
I follow Johann to the training hall and to a semi-empty space in the center of the room. The other soldiers make way for us. We get a few stares, but at least they’re trying to be discreet today. The few gifted soldiers present give us sympathetic looks.
There are enough people that I have to keep my hands moving all throughout our warm-up stretches to have something to focus on and avoid being overwhelmed by everyone’s thoughts.
Once we’ve finished, Johann doesn’t waste any time getting started. “You ready?”
I nod. “What are the rules?”
“We’ll start with hand-to-hand combat,” she says. “For now, let’s say the first person to land a blow wins. Any complaints?”
“Are gifts prohibited?” I focus my gaze somewhere past her shoulder. “I’d rather not burn to death, but it would be inconvenient for me if they were against the rules.”
Some Nytes have gifts like superhuman scent or the ability to attain perfect balance. Nothing significant, certainly nothing that could turn the tide of a war. Since I’ve never talked about my gift or used it with Johann’s knowledge, she assumed mine was something of that sort. Her assumption doesn’t change, but she does add the fact that my gift is useful in a fight to her list of mental notes about me.
I’ll try to figure out what it is during our spar so I need her to be able to use it. “Gifts are allowed. Don’t worry, I can control my flames to do exactly what I want.” She flexes her hands. “So if I wanted my fire to give off a lot of heat, but not actually burn, then I could make it happen. Don’t worry about getting hurt from that.”
I smile thinly at Johann’s implication. Just because her fire won’t hurt me doesn’t mean I won’t get hurt.
Not that it matters anyway. Johann doesn’t intend to use her gift, at least not the first round. She wants to see what I’ve got without anything getting in the way of her assessment.
“Are you kidding? There’s no way Lieutenant Cathwell will lose.” It isn’t until I overhear this that I realize a small crowd has gathered. They give us a sizable berth, but they’ve still formed a distinct circle around me and Al.
Someone whispers, “Isn’t it a bit odd? A well-practiced soldier fighting against someone who’s been stuck in prison the last couple years?”
I can almost hear Johann fighting the urge to whip around and make everyone scatter. As it is, her fists clench at her sides.
Someone else replies, “Haven’t you seen her training in here? Doesn’t seem like she’s lost any practice to me.”
“My money’s on Johann. Don’t care who this Cathwell is, no one ever lost to the sergeant major before.”
“You weren’t here three years ago, were ya?”
Johann charges. Partly because she’s impatient to start, partly to block out the voices of everyone around us.
That’s fine by me. I wait until the last moment to sidestep, eyes focused elsewhere in the crowd as I do.
Johann wheels around, leg extended, intending to strike me across the back, but I jump over it and land with a little bounce beside her. Her elbow is still moving with the momentum of her kick, so she aims for my chest. I lean back. She barely misses me.
Johann doesn’t hesitate in throwing her attacks at me, but I’ve had so much practice reading others’ movements that I don’t need to read her thoughts to know how she’ll move. The way her muscles shift, the direction her feet face before she attacks, how sometimes her eyes will flick certain places. She can feint, use one attack to lead into another, or throw out any other combination of tricks she likes, but I still dodge it. Every time, I do it just barely, intentionally. My steps are more bounces, my movements light.
I don’t attack. I hold my hands behind my back, arms straight, unchanged since the start of the match. Part of it is just because I like messing with her, and doing it in a way that she’ll know that’s my intention. Part of it is payback for nearly frying me on our first mission.
This is no spar. This is evasion practice. “What are you doing, Cathwell?” It’s the first time Johann’s let up on her rapid-fire attack pattern. “I thought you agreed to a fight with me, not a dodging contest.”
“Aren’t they relatively the same?”
Johann falls back a few steps, enough that I can’t reach her in a single stride. “Are you too scared of humiliating yourself to fight me seriously?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then you’re afraid to lose.”
“Like I’d lose to you,” I say before I can help it. I clamp my mouth shut. Idiot. Who falls for shallow taunts like that?
The crowd is dead silent. Whereas before there was low chatter, now no one speaks.
“Yeah?” This should be better. “Prove it.”
I attack first this time.
Johann waits until I’m practically on top of her before she sidesteps, mimicking my first move from earlier, but it was easy enough to guess she’d do that. I pivot around with her as she moves, leg whirring at her neck.
Her arm jerks up with barely enough time to block me.
I can’t hide my surprise that my kick didn’t connect—there’s no way she should’ve been able to block that quickly—but it doesn’t stop me from immediately switching legs to launch another. Johann ducks and swings her foot at the ankle that’s keeping me standing. I hop-jump above it, about to come landing back down on her leg until she quickly retracts it.
I pull myself down, knees bent, and use the momentum to aim an uppercut at Johann’s chin. She propels herself back, but the movement throws her off balance and she falls flat on her back.
As my fist comes flying at her stomach, her arms swing up to deflect my blow again.
Her reaction time is unreal. No matter how clearly I can read her movements—and eventually, her thoughts—despite knowing how she’s about to move, for some reason, I can’t get into her defense. Fighting as a telepath is an art I perfected years ago. The speed with which I can read my opponent’s thoughts and moves can keep up in almost any actual battle. So why is it so hard to do anything against her?
Johann has noticed I underestimated her. Or rather, that I thought too highly of my own abilities. I let my frustration show too clearly on my face.
Did she think it wouldn’t take this long once she got serious? This arrogant—
I messed up. In a lot of ways. As soon as I lose my footing in one of my more reckless attacks, Johann drives me back with a quick series of punches. She doesn’t risk a kick, correctly guessing that they’re my specialty and it could create an opening. I duck and weave through all her hits. At least dodging is one thing I don’t have to doubt my abilities in.
She’s good. But I’m starting to get the hang of how she moves.
I need to end this quickly, but without underestimating her anymore and without being reckless.
For a long time, we just keep punching and kicking and blocking, neither of us managing to land a solid hit. The soldiers around us, when I think to listen, have stopped calling bets.
Sweat runs into my eyes, burning them, but I can’t waste a movement to wipe it away.
Johann and I pull apart, both of us panting. My eyes rake over her, searching for an opening, the key to her movements, anything that will put an end to this.
“You’re good,” Johann says between breaths. Good enough for my team. She might have told me she accepted me when I blackmailed her, but she didn’t mean it until now. For obvious reasons. Threatening someone doesn’t exactly get you points with them. “How do you manage that when you haven’t fought in years?”
“I never said I didn’t practice.” I’m struggling to control my breathing. My fists are still up, as are Johann’s, but I really just want to end this. I haven’t had a practice match this long or intense in ages. It’s shown me just how low my stamina has become.
I hadn’t wanted to u
se this since it’s not always successful, but I force my mind to empty of everything except Johann’s thoughts. I breathe out deeply, then in, then out. My back straightens. My foot inches forward as I change my stance slightly. A low pounding resounds in my head. Every fleck of thought that runs through Johann’s mind echoes in my own simultaneously. I can nearly imagine I am her, I’m so synced in to her thoughts. But my body stays my own, and waits for the commands that will counter my—Johann’s thoughts. Her movements.
Warning bells go off in Johann’s head that something has changed, but she can’t tell what, and she can’t defend against what she doesn’t know. Even though she’d decided not to be the first to attack this time, the unease of knowing that something about me is different makes her itch to move.
She runs at me and twists the side of her hand, bringing it down like a blade across my shoulder. Or she would’ve. I leap clear above her and land lightly on her extended arm, foot already wheeling toward her face. She ducks—barely—and jerks her arm out from underneath me.
Even before she moved, I’d twisted so that when I hit the floor, it’s my arms supporting me, leaving my legs free to attempt a kick straight to Johann’s stomach.
Her arms coil around my ankle, trapping it, but I have enough momentum that I’m able to bring my other leg around and slam it into Johann’s chest before she can react. She hits the ground.
When I extract my mind from Johann’s, I register the silence.
Then someone says, “Looks like you haven’t lost your touch after all, Lieutenant,” and a huge round of applause goes up. Whether it’s for me or Johann, I can’t tell. I’m just surprised they’re clapping for us at all.
Someone whispers, “Thank the gods those demons are on our side.”
When I offer a hand to Johann to help her up, she looks at me with surprise. She grabs it, and then I’m the one who finds myself surprised.
“What happened at the end there?” Johann rubs her chest in slow, small circles where my kick connected. I should have held back, but she was too strong for me to be able to afford that. “Something about you changed.”
A Soldier and a Liar Page 14