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Thursday, June 25, one day after Zoe’s escape.
I slink away, leaving my father to pour over the old tomes and scrolls I just dropped off. It has gotten me thinking why he’s not released yet. Zoe’s birthday was yesterday, and yet he still sits in his prison.
Something is definitely wrong. Maybe she’s not the one who will fulfill the prophesy. The fairies have been wrong before. It’s rare but does happen.
Before continuing with Quinn’s phase three training, I decide to check in one last time with Zoe. She should have her full powers by now.
As soon as I approach the vocivus room, my body tells me something is not right. I appear inside the room, and Zoe is not in it. Broken glass lays scattered on the floor from the window. A breeze blows in smelling of stagnant, musty air.
She finally managed to escape. And it only took her a day. She’s going to be strong. Maybe as strong as me. I wonder briefly how she got out of the room. Did she sit and think about the window? Did she use trial and error and try breaking the glass? Did she use her Light for her getaway?
I guess it doesn’t really matter how she got away. She’s out, and I know exactly where she’ll go first. Phase three of my plan is underway.
Training with Quinn has been very productive, now to lay the groundwork for slipping her back into Zoe’s life. I’m hoping that Zoe remembers me telling her that Quinn is a Nephilim. Knowing Zoe and her friends, they’ll take Quinn under their wings and guide her.
“What are we going to do today?” Quinn’s eyes shine with excitement.
She’s been doing really well, but there still is sadness in her. I know she wants to get her Nephilim Sword, and I’m befuddled as to why she hasn’t received hers yet.
“Nothing you’re going to like.” I drive into the school’s parking lot.
“Why are we at school? It’s summer.”
“I know, so it’ll be empty, and we can use the track and field.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to like this.”
I park the red Spyder, and we proceed to the fence. It’s not locked because I came early to make sure. I don’t need more questions from Quinn as to why we’re breaking in. Also, we don’t need prying eyes watching us, so I had created a repel ward around the field. In case someone does wander over here, they’ll see and hear nothing. But if they try to come onto the field, they won’t be able to. The invisible fence will deter them and strongly suggest that they don’t need to be here today.
“Let me guess. I’m going to do a lot of running and jumping and stuff today,” Quinn says.
“Yes, that’s the plan. We need to build up your endurance, so you can survive upcoming battles.”
“Are there some coming?”
“Soon, but we’ll get to that later today. Think of it as your prize for completing today’s phase and doing well. You need to pass my inspection before I can throw your name into the hat for the next assignment. Now is the time to impress me. Don’t hold back because it’s between life and death out there after training.”
“I understand, I think.” Quinn stands on the grass and begins to stretch her hamstrings and arms. “So what’s first?” She doesn’t need me to tell her anymore about warmups; it’s become second nature to her. The time it takes normal Ordinaries is cut in half with Nephilim. After a couple of minutes, she’s ready.
“I want you to run until you can’t stand anymore. Push past it and keep running until I tell you to stop. I need to know where your endurance ends and push it further. It won’t be timed. Do a couple of laps at a sprint and start running at full speed.”
She nods, walks to the track, does some leg lifts, and trots down the lane, gradually picking up speed.
The first lap around, I note her pace is about two minutes. Pretty quick considering she’s sprinting. By the third lap, her legs are moving in a blur. I know she’s pushing herself to her limits. This is what I’m really interested in. She should be able to do at least six or seven laps at this speed. Quinn rushes by me on the fifth lap and on a whim, I decide to join her. Maybe feeling my presence pushing her on will tip her over the edge.
“Hey, babe,” I say as I catch up to her. “Thought you could use some inspiration on these next laps.”
“Thanks,” she huffs. “I think I’m about burned out, so anything you can do to distract me will help.”
We continue running like the Hell Hounds are chasing us. Lap after lap, we go around and around. I notice her waning, but her mouth is set into a grim line. She’s powering through. We’ve just completed the eleventh lap, well over my expectations.
Quinn slows a bit, and I zoom past her, looking back to make sure she’s okay. Her pace is still declining to a jog and then to a fast walk. I wait for her at the finish line as she shuffles past.
“I did it. How many laps was that?”
“Twelve, which is very good.” She collapses on the cool grass. Her chest is heaving. I give her a couple of minutes to recoup but not long. “All right, time to get up.” She blinks at me like I’ve grown horns out of my head. If she only knew. “Come on, endurance training, remember?”
“I don’t think I can walk.” She rolls over on her stomach and pushes herself up onto her knees. “Okay, maybe I can.” She presses forward and stands. “Can we do something with my arms for a bit? I just need a couple extra minutes.”
Driving her past exhaustion today is probably not the best idea, so I relent.
“All right, let’s use those arm muscles you have hiding.” I lead her to a table of spear and javelins. Even though men and women use different lengths and weights, I only have the men’s equipment displayed. “You’ll use this,” I say, selecting the javelin, “to throw. While this is about distance, it’s also about aim. See those lines? Don’t hit them. The head, which is the tip here, must land within the sector. The body, or shaft,” I say, running my hand the length of the pole, “cannot land on its side. Got it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Quinn picks up the javelin and bounces it in her hands, feeling the weight, balance, and length. I didn’t tell her about pose, form, or actually how to throw it. Gripping the shaft, she takes a couple of steps back. Bringing her arm backward, the javelin flies forward. With deadly accuracy, the head buries itself into the ground by a few inches.
“Again.” Thinking it might be a fluke, I watch as she hits the sector in the same spot. The javelins are poking out of the grass, side by side. “Again.” The same thing happens, repeatedly. “Back up a few yards.”
A cluster of spears now nestle together. No matter the distance, short or long, she’s hitting the mark. I’m impressed.
“Huh,” I say.
“That’s good, right?” Quinn waves her hand toward the javelins.
“Yes.” I nod. That’s all I can say. I’m a bit awestruck. “How are your legs feeling? Think you can run a bit more?”
“Yeah, they aren’t too sore. I won’t be setting any marathon records.” She shrugs. “Whatcha thinking?”
“That you should run across the field.” I point in the direction to one of the end goals they use for football.
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to hit you.” I pick up the duffle bag from the ground and unzip it, revealing knives, a slingshot, bean bags, and arrows. “You better get going because all of these hurt from this close of a range.”
That got her moving. She dashes to one of the goals as I load the bow with arrows and launch them in her direction. She easily side steps the first arrow. What she didn’t account for is that this isn’t a game, and I’m not an angel. Loading multiple arrows, I fire them off in rapid speed, sending a volley of them careening toward her. There isn’t anywhere to run, but I’m still careful that she doesn’t get, injured or killed.
But I don’t stop there. Taking the slingshot, I blast bean bags at her moving target. She’s fast, dodging them quickly, but my ears hear her grunting. Some are finding their mark. She is going to be very bruised tomorrow. And even that doesn’t make me stop. Quinn rushes toward me and darts to my left as I fling a knife at her. She dodges it at the last second, but more knives come flying her way.
What I haven’t prepared her for are the invisible blasts. I know she can’t create them, but she doesn’t know that. Sending a wave of air in her direction, her body sways, and she loses her balance. She glares at me while stumbling to upright herself. I shrug. No one said battles were going to be fair.
Air detonates around her from all directions as the bean bags assault her from another. Rubber tipped arrows rain down, a few hitting near her as she covers her head.
A bright orange glow emits from her body. Her wings release. Something glints from the sunlight. She’s still running erratically on the grass with the added weight of her wings as I send all the rubber balls bouncing her way.
Instinctively, Quinn reaches between her shoulder blades and clutches her Nephilim Sword. It’s there when she most needs it. She bats the balls and bean bags away, swings her blade to knock the knives out of the air. There isn’t anything she can do about the relentless, falling arrows, but she does her best to slash at them before they imbed into her body.
I stop the onslaught of weapons and motion for her to come to me.
“Is this what I think it is?” She stares at the sword in her hands and presents it to me.
“Looks like it.” I don’t touch it. The blade is long, and around the hilt are orange gemstones, fire opals. The color goes perfectly with her wings. “You’ve done well today. Better than I expected you would. And if I thought that throwing knives at you would get your sword to appear, I would have done that earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t think of doing that.”
“It’s fine, Aiden. I wouldn’t have thought that you putting my life in danger would trigger it either.” She bounces while a broad smile shows her teeth. “Does this mean that I can go on a mission now?”
“Yes. I think it does.”