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IT WAS AS IF Dave had just up and vanished. I’d fallen asleep on the small makeshift sofa in Al’s room because neither Al nor Larna wanted to leave me alone. I found myself wedged between two people who had confessed their love for each other—which was awesome. It was annoyingly depressing how those two kept stealing glances at each other, but they wouldn’t talk to one another. I think sometime during the night, Al had forced me to lie down. I hated sleep; it was such a waste of time. Also, I couldn’t shut my mind off about what Gabe had said about me and my family. All of my suspicions had been confirmed. He knew everything about us. I was extremely thankful Vinson had volunteered to check on them. Some maniacal douche-bag was using Larna to control me and had ratted me out. When he’d told Larna I loved her, it had been a gut punch. I had planned on taking that bit of information with me to the grave. Larna finding out I loved her was at the top of the list of most embarrassing things to happen to me. Now things had gotten awkward.
I switched gears, thinking about Dave and what he’d told me. Right now, I’d take the exception to my no-sleeping rule because I really wanted him to come back.
Larna, having heard me get up, appeared out of thin air with some aspirin and water in hand. The butterfly strips had come off some-time during the night. My cut had scabbed over, so I didn’t worry about reapplying new ones right this second—even though it still hurt like hell.
“What, no coffee?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Where’s Al?”
“Meeting with Sozo about Gabriel. We aren’t on lockdown, but in exchange, we had to agree to be shadowed by their guards.”
“Anything I can do to help smooth things over?”
“As a matter of fact, I need you to work on controlling that blade of yours. There’s a gym not far from here. How do you feel about getting a little workout in?”
I nodded slowly, giving it some real thought. “I think that’s a good idea. I could stand to clear my head.”
I looked her up and down, noticing the state of her clothes. Her black shirt was tucked into dark green cargo pants, a canvas belt cinched tightly at her waist. They were wrinkled, as if she’d been sleeping in them. Short jet-black hair framed her face, making her look edgy and hard—but no less hot. I could see the outline of her biceps and the cut of her abs through her shirt. It still surprised me how much she’d changed in a year. A pang of longing welled up in me at what could have been—and would never be. I’d only admit it to myself, but I was still reeling about Gabriel. No amount of therapy could take away my guilt. She’d been turned because of me—because I had a thing for her. I hated feeling this way. I had to learn to control my emotions. Learn to let love go. You couldn’t just wash away the lingering doubt and regret. I needed to beat them out of my brain.
Physical pain was so much better than mental pain.
I could still make this right. It was why I desperately needed to talk to Dave again.
“Let me change. I’ll come with you,” Larna insisted, bringing me out of my musings.
I shook my head a little too adamantly, glancing at the scabbed-over cut on her neck where I’d accidently cut her in the caves. “I need to figure this out on my own; if I hurt you again. I don’t know what I’d do …” My voice cracked and I stopped. “Besides, I have a feeling you and Al have a lot to discuss.”
Larna stepped closer to me. We were inches apart, and for one split second, I imagined myself pulling her into my arms to kiss her. I also imagined enjoying the warmth of her body as it melded into mine, like how protons and neutrons are held together in a nucleus by the strong force. The strong force gets its name by being the strongest attractive force—which is six thousand billion billion billion billion times more powerful than gravity. I didn’t know how else to describe the chemistry between us. This is exactly why I am a science nerd. Since she’d been turned, her metabolism had increased tenfold. I had thought it would have been the opposite—the myth of vamps being the undead and all. She reached out to me, but seemed to think better of it and pulled her hand back. Things had changed so much between us in the last twenty-four hours.
Damn Gabe for meddling in my life.
“I don’t like that glint in your eye,” I observed. “You’re not going after Gabe, right?” I raised a distrustful eyebrow. “You need to tread lightly—he’s dangerous.”
One side of her mouth tugged up at the corner as if to say, “You don’t have to tell me that.” “You concentrate on controlling that weapon of yours, and I’ll concentrate on our enemies. We’ve been assigned a guard detail. They’ll be stuck to us like glue.” She jabbed a finger to my chest. “And you, Corinth, you stick to the gym only.”
I put a hand on her arm, and a burst of static electricity arced between us. It was the first time I’d touched her since her admission about Al. I jerked my hand back as if I’d been burned, averting my gaze from hers. “What Gabe said back in the conference room—” I swallowed hard before continuing “—I used to feel that way, but not anymore.” I stopped, finding I couldn’t even say the word love out loud. It stung, lying to her, but I would not be the source of her not moving on. I could see it in her eyes: the conflict of guilt and pity. I wouldn’t be that person clinging to hope that she might see me as something more one day. Maybe if I admitted I didn’t have feelings for her anymore, I’d actually start believing it.
Her tone was gentle yet firm as she said, “I know this isn’t exactly an ideal situation between any of us right now, but we need to stay focused. What I said—about loving Alastair… well, I meant it, Corinth.” She cleared her throat. “And I love you too. I’m just not in love with you.” She cast a glance down, but not before I saw pink flood the contours of her cheeks. “Gabriel’s reason behind turning me, though, is not your fault—it’s his.”
I nodded, feeling a swirling hollowness in the pit of my stomach. She wasn’t in love with me. Ouch. It was hard to look her in the face and not believe her about Gabe. I whispered under my breath, “I guess we’re both on the same page, then. And it still doesn’t mean I feel any less shitty about it.”
I knew it had to be hard for her and Al right now. I’d felt the growing tension between them. If she told me she loved me, I’d be vaulting over the moon. Why did things have to be so complicated? I think they were holding back because I was so far wedged between them they didn’t want to hurt me. I wished I could tell them it was way too late for that.
***
Two big, burly-looking dudes were my security detail. One had a graying Gandalf beard, but he looked younger—and had bulging biceps. The other one had squinty eyes, a hook nose, and incredibly smooth dark skin and a shaved head. They were kind enough to point me in the direction of the gym, but not kind enough to tell me their names, so I gave them ones: Thor and Luke Cage.
Once inside, I realized this place wasn’t really a gym at all. A giant dome over my head lit up an Olympic-sized track-and-field-type arena. In the center of the sports ground sat all of the workout equipment I would ever need. I took some time familiarizing myself with the gear while my bodyguards disappeared from sight.
It appeared I had the run of the place, which was great; it meant I could explore my powers without turning anyone into a crispy fried nub. An assortment of oversized tires, ropes, and medicine balls lined the white-washed walls. There was a jogging track that looped around the field, much like the one at my old high school. A plethora of jump ropes, yoga mats, and free weights sat in the grass. I found myself gravitating toward the equipment, inhaling the heady scent of freshly cut lawn. It was real. I wondered if the lights overhead were ultraviolet or something, replacing the sun’s natural light with UV rays. I found I had missed the scent of dirt and earth and the outdoors. I inhaled deeply, enjoying solitude’s comforting embrace. And even though it was obvious that I was probably being watched, I still found my alone time cathartic. Maybe I’d give my audience something to talk about in the meantime. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe Luke Cage and Thor were keeping people from entering the gym… or maybe everyone here attended classes during the day, which left places like this empty for the uneducated, like me.
This might be a good time to really let loose and see what I could do. It was nice not having to worry about hiding my abilities or holding back. It also could have something to do with the fact that I always felt like I was within a hair’s breadth of frying everyone around me. There had been a lot keeping me in check as of late.
It was time to shake the cobwebs loose.
I wasn’t someone who enjoyed working out. To be honest, I’d rather be sitting in front of a computer with a can of soda and some Cheetos. But if I wanted to give myself a fighting chance against stronger beings—like angels and vampires—I felt it best to try and keep in a good a shape as possible. I was only human after all. Every time I tried to clear my head, I kept thinking about reasons why Gabe would want a cure for vampirism. Whoever had control over the most powerful weapon on the planet had control over the playing board.
I wasn’t the weapon though, the dagger was.
In the middle of flipping a giant heavy tire across the track, a very mundane task, I found it served the purpose of clearing my head. Too worried about breathing to overthink, I focused on moving the heavy object across the field, one foot in front of the other: flip, stoop, lift… flip, stoop, lift… Over and over again it went like this until I had to make myself stop for a sip of water. My arms were trembling, and the thin material of my shirt clung to me like a second skin. It felt good to pour myself into something other than the blade. And it wasn’t until my legs started twitching with fatigue that I realized how spent I really was.
My fingers skimmed over the hilt of the blade at my hip. Ever so slowly, I drew it out. The sound of it clearing the scabbard filled me with an unexpected and light-headed wooziness. The world tilted around me before I realized the dizziness had come from me holding my breath. I expelled the oxygen from my lungs. Come on, blade, work with me. I don’t want to fight with you anymore; I want to work with you.
Do you need a name? Should I name you? Holy crap, I hadn’t named it. I named everything. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the familiar weight. Evil’s Bane? The Sword of Time? Menace to Society? Girlfriend Blocker? El Capitan? Pain in My Ass?
One name kind of did stick: Thunderblade.
I kind of liked it.
I tightened my grip on the cool metal. It bit into my skin. “Why did you choose me? Tell me what you want from me, Thunderblade.”
Widening my stance just like Al had taught me, I started practicing a basic kata practical in weapons use. Recalling the right number of steps in the right order was the hard part: tighten my core, center my balance, lean into each strike, and use my torso, because that was where the power came from.
I slashed out, sweeping the blade back and forth in a wide arch. Once I was comfortable with the balance and weight, I started to add more difficult techniques to the routine. Twisting, turning, and kicking, I moved to a tune only I could hear, the blade humming menacingly as it sliced through the air. The finale was me adding in some spinning kicks—some difficult moves, but I felt connected to the blade in a way I never had before. I felt limber and centered and skilled. Each strike and block and slash felt like I was shedding the dead-weight of doubt and fear and loss of control. By the time I was done, sweat was dripping off my forehead, and running down my arms and legs.
And then I heard the sound of mocking laughter.
My eyes popped open as I searched for the source. A group of five guys were watching me across the open field. They stood on the track, their hands on their hips. Once they saw me notice them, they moved out onto the grass, heading toward me. By the derisive sneers on their faces, I realized they weren’t fans of mine.
I looked around for signs of Thor or Luke Cage. Maybe there was a reason for their sudden disappearance, or maybe these five guys took them out—in either case, my protection was now conveniently gone. These dudes looked like they were ready to rumble. I focused on the one standing in the front of the group with his arms crossed: most likely their leader—a shorter guy in the back, who had on a baseball cap with an original Yankees logo on it. The rest of the group was wearing basketball shorts and jerseys. Sports fans, I could use that to my advantage.
Still trying to catch my breath, I gestured at the guy with the baseball cap. “Yankees fan, huh?”
He cupped a hand over his mouth and shouted, “Best team in the world!”
I took note of his thick New York accent.
“You kiddin’? Agreed, The Bronx Bombers are the best!” I shouted back. Forgive me, Texas Rangers. My dad was a baseball fan, and I had picked up enough over the years to get by. But I was definitely not a Yankees fan.
He smiled and then elbowed the guy next to him, who nodded in agreement.
“You guys catch any of the games?” I asked, stepping behind the giant tire I’d been flipping. It would offer little protection if they did decide to do something stupid. Their eyes kept shiftily darting to the blade in my grasp. I swiped a hand across my forehead and smiled, what I hoped was a friendly, unconcerned one. I was concerned. Being outnumbered by five vamps was bad, very bad.
“Sure—we get the games here,” the Yankee fan said, eyeing my sweat-soaked shirt. “You looked like you were getting in quite the workout. Those were some crazy moves. Those high kicks you were doing looked like some kind of fancy dance routine.” He laughed, his eyes swiveling back to the dagger still in my hand. “That blade looks pretty sharp.”
I glanced down to it and then, as if making hopefully the right decision, sheathed it back at my thigh, shrugging nonchalantly. “It is.”
He said, “You must be pretty sure of yourself—putting that blade away like that.”
Again my eyes slid back down to the dagger and I shrugged. “I am.”
The leader, who had a crewcut and a bronze skin tone like an Italian, stepped forward. “That tire there”—he nodded to the one I was standing behind—“is about five hundred pounds. We saw you flip it all the way over here. You’re pretty strong, for being humanly impaired and all …”
I gave another shrug. “Just determined.”
“I heard you hunt vamps,” he said softly, a threatening undertone in his voice.
At the mention of the word hunt my heart began to thump wildly against my chest. He closed the distance between us. This was not going to end well.
I scanned the area, noticing I was right smack in the middle of the circular track, which was about a quarter of a mile around the entire complex. The rest of the guys had slowly maneuvered themselves to form a semicircle around me.
“I don’t particularly like to hunt.” I shifted on the balls of my feet, getting ready. “And I definitely don’t want to hurt anyone—unless I have to.”
The Italian shared a glance with his buddies and then thumbed a hand in my direction. He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This guy thinks he can hurt us.”
There one second, and gone the next, he was in front of me, picking up the tire that had been the only thing between us as if it weighed less than a feather. Using one hand, he tossed it across the track like a shot put. The tire bounced a few feet, thudding heavily against the track, and then rolled sluggishly over onto its side as if it had seen better days.
“That was impressive,” I said, and meant it.
“I’m John,” he said.
I wiped my hands on my pants, holding out a hand toward him, hoping he wouldn’t see it shaking. “Corinth.”
His eyes flicked to my outstretched hand then back up, and they just so happened to be glowing with his Sight. “Are you a betting man, Corinth?”