Thirteen

Your worst nightmare.

The words pierced Iris’s soul like a razor blade scratching away at her skin. She wondered what they truly meant. Did the witch see her visions in the Hollywood Cemetery when she searched her brain? Was she just speaking figuratively? Was she just trying to get to her?

The problem was, the witch said nothing more. After she saw whatever clue was hiding in Iris’s mind, the witch turned mute. No more words. No more screaming. No more … anything.

But as much as she wanted to, Iris couldn’t focus on that today. It was training day, and Arlo was her first apprentice. She was up and ready to go at 9 a.m., gathering the gear they would need to get started. The only thing missing was Arlo.

He was still sleeping and Iris felt weird about waking him up. He was also still bunking in Iris’s room, and she was taking her parents’ bed for the time being. She didn’t have the heart to let Arlo stay in the underground dorms after the Hunters had given him such a hard time yesterday.

She knocked on the door of her room half expecting to find a grumpy Arlo waiting on the other side. She could tell he wasn’t a morning person.

“Arlo. Hey. Open up, it’s me,” she said softly. “Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Arlo,” she tried again. “Open up. We need to get to our train—”

The door finally opened and her skin burned when she saw Arlo wearing nothing but boxers. They were hanging low on his waist revealing his very prominent hipbones.

“Oh. Uh. I’m so sorry for getting you up, but we need to start training.”

“At nine freaking o’clock?” he whined, rubbing his eyes.

“I know this sounds crazy, but people do get up before noon.”

“Ugh,” he spewed. “I hate those people.”

Iris stood in the doorway fidgeting while Arlo threw on a T-shirt and some sweatpants. She tried to look away but her eyes continued to find his stomach. More accurately, his abs. His lean but defined abs, peaking effortlessly through his olive skin.

“So … you a coffee drinker?” she asked, looking the other way.

“Am I ever.”

“Well, there’s coffee in the kitchen and then we need to get started A.S.A.P.”

He quietly huffed. “Jeez, Yoda. Relax. I have the Hunter gene right? So ‘The Force’ is strong with me.” He paused. “Train to be a Hunter I will,” he said in a shoddy rendition of a Yoda voice.

Iris remained stone-faced, though she desperately wanted to laugh. There was a playfulness about him. And in a world that was so dark and often filled with tragedy, his positive presence was refreshing. Like the cold ocean water on a scorching hot day.

“Oh come on, turn that frown upside down.” His eyes brightened. “I promise I will be the best Padawan learner ever. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers.

Iris couldn’t fight it anymore and she finally cracked a smile.

“There it is.” He moved closer and pointed to her face. “Your ‘I’m trying not to smile, but I can’t help but smile,’ smile. It’s cute.”

She wasn’t sure if it was hearing Arlo call her “cute” or the fact that he was now standing right in front of her, but either way she felt abnormally warm. Iris worried that she was beet red and hoped Arlo didn’t notice. She thought it was best to get to work before she spontaneously combusted. Figuratively, of course.

“Let’s just … ,” she stammered, “get to training.”

*

They had a busy day ahead of them, full of hand-to-hand combat, gymnastics, physical conditioning, basic first aid, and witch lore. Iris loved training with Arlo and she was especially fond of how severely she kicked his ass in the boxing ring. And rolling around with his sweaty body wasn’t so bad either.

They trained hard, because the threat they faced was deadly serious, and giving anything less than a hundred percent could result in death.

The W.H.O. training room looked like a gym on steroids. In addition to the boxing ring, there were treadmills, weights, mats, mirrored walls, all the traditional gym stuff. But there were also things a bit more nontraditional as well. Like simulators to learn how to spot specific spells, and a knife-throwing station. They could also change the weather in the gym so they could learn to fight properly, no matter what kind of Ethas they were dealing with.

After finishing a round of boxing, she stood at the front of the gym preparing to prep Arlo for his next session. “When you carry the Hunter gene, you almost have a photographic muscle memory,” she explained, standing tall.

“You’re saying a bunch of things I don’t know again,” Arlo said, wiping his forehead.

She shot him a snappy look. “It means that once you walk through something a few times, you just know it.” She cleared her throat. “So now, I’m going to run at you, and you’re going to block and take me to the ground like I taught you.”

“I just … feel bad trying to hurt you.”

Iris shook her head. “No, don’t start thinking of me as a girl, or your friend, or anything; think of me as a Hunter.”

Arlo squinted his eyes and nodded. Iris set off, charging Arlo at a full sprint. She cocked her arm and prepared to strike, but before she could land a shot, Arlo dodged with surprising speed, grabbing her arm and hurtling her toward the ground.

Iris caught his ankle on her way down and pulled his leg out from under him. They both went crashing to the floor.

“Okay. That was freaking awesome.” Arlo laughed as they both lay on the mat, panting and out of breath.

“Not bad, WHOR. Not bad.” Iris was pleased the training was going well. She didn’t want to have to call on Deacon or one of the other Hunters for help. That would be embarrassing.

“So, do you guys ever get like horribly injured?” His breath was finally steady.

“Oh. All the time.” Iris smiled. “But we have a recovery serum shot—a healing injection we carry with us in case something goes off plan. Technically it’s a concentrated Curas spell. It won’t bring you back from the dead, but it could save your life.”

“Off plan? What does that even mean?”

Iris almost didn’t want to tell him. But there was no getting around it. Witch hunting was a dangerous lifestyle. “Well, a couple of months ago Knox got stabbed by a witch all the way down to his bone. I wasn’t there but Dex said it was horrific.” She propped herself up on her elbows.

“So, let me get this straight,” Arlo interrupted. “Witches carry weapons?”

“Well, with their spells, they don’t really need to. But certain Matas have nails that can turn into claws as sharp as the animals’ they summon. Knox’s stab wound was pretty bad. If he didn’t give himself the injection, he would have been dead. And let me tell you, that shot is a bitch!” She shuddered. “We do heal quicker than normal, but if it’s a bad injury the serum is enough to get us back on our feet, or at the very least, buy us enough time to get back here to our doctors. We have some of the brightest medical minds in the world—The White Coats—right here in the Bently Fortress.”

“Hmm.” Arlo scrunched his face. “Is that why I never really got hurt much as a kid? ’Cause I had the gene and didn’t know it?”

“Probably.”

The two lay on a mat in the gym and carried on for some time. Iris told Arlo war stories, occasionally slapping him on the shoulder as they laughed. It was nice. So much better than the last few days.

“The White Coats also helped develop our Hunter vehicle. The Armada is strong enough as it is, but with bulletproof windows and an arsenal of hunting weapons, it’s the closest thing you’ll find to a witch-proof vehicle,” Iris said, proudly.

“That has to be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Arlo gasped, holding up his hand for a high five that he did not receive.

“Hey, let me see your hands,” she said, grabbing for Arlo’s palm.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“What’s with all the calluses?” she asked, turning Arlo’s hands over as she examined them.

“I’m a guitar player, remember?” Arlo replied. “Been playing since I was old enough to hold one.”

“That’s right,” Iris said, staring at the ceiling. “Hmm…”

“What are you thinking?” Arlo asked. His eyes narrowed.

Iris jumped to her feet. There was something about his hands that sparked a thought and she wanted to put her theory to the test.

“All right, I think I have an idea. Come with me.” She motioned with her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To our archery range outside.” She beamed. “You don’t seem like a gun guy, but I have a feeling you’d be good with a bow.”

“I’m gonna try and take that as a compliment.”

They made their way out the door and Iris basked in the warm sunlight as it found her skin. She took in a deep breath of freshly cut grass bonding with light notes of a hot asphalt. It was a surprisingly pleasant scent.

“All right, the archery range is … just … over …” Iris was suddenly light-headed. Her heart raced and her palms were cold and wet. The sky above her was spinning, and before she could steady herself she collapsed to the ground.

Everything around her went black and flashes of the murder scene played in her head like a rapidly flicking slide show. She saw the house of the actress and images of what she looked like hours before she died. She remembered keeping watch from inside The Armada from a couple of houses down. The actress was laughing and talking on the phone to someone. She was so young. So bright.

Then, something different flashed in Iris’s mind. It wasn’t a memory, and it wasn’t her vision in the cemetery. This time she was lying in a barren desert, the hot sun beating against her body. Her Hunter gear was off, and she was in just a T-shirt and jeans. Arlo sat next to her and even in her daydream, her heart began to flutter.

He trailed his fingers down her cheeks, brushing over her lips ever so lightly. His touch made her tremble and sent a series of sparks down her spine. He grabbed the small of her back and she jolted, letting out a soft whimper. He pulled her face closer, hovering his lips over her mouth and—

“Iris! Are you okay?” Arlo said, kneeling beside her and jerking her awake. “Can you hear me?”

Iris blinked her eyes, narrowing in on Arlo’s face. She grabbed the collar of Arlo’s shirt, pulling his firm body on top of hers. His face softened and his eyes flickered while he tried to resist her grip.

“Iris,” he whispered near her ear. “What are you doing?”

She felt the itchy grass against her skin, realizing quickly that she was no longer in the desert. She pushed Arlo off her, crossing her arms and dramatically hiding her face. She was mortified.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “What just happened?”

“You just fell, out of nowhere. Are you feeling all right?”

She was surprised Arlo left out that she just grabbed his neck and tried to kiss him. But she was glad that he did. “I’m feeling fine,” Iris lied. Physically she was up to par, but mentally, she was in a whole different space. “We need to get back to training,” she said, hopping to her feet.

“Um … I don’t think so. Not after you collapsed like that.”

Arlo extended his hand and Iris slapped it away, jumping to her feet in one swift motion. “No really, I’ll be okay.” She was not about to make a fool out of herself as a trainer.

“Look,” Arlo said, putting his hand on her arm. After the hot vision in the desert, Iris instinctively moved away. “Why don’t we just go get some lunch. Maybe Rodeo Drive? I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”

“Rodeo Drive?” Iris said with a smirk. “Tourist, much?”

“Well, I am from out of town.” He bit his lip. “Come on,” he pleaded, tugging at her hand. “I’ll take you to lunch and then we can get back to training. Are you into seafood?”

“Seafood? Oh Lord. No.” Iris cringed. She hated fish almost as much as she hated witches. “But I wouldn’t mind some coffee and maybe a pastry at La Patisserie Artistique?” she bargained with a small smile.

“Deal.”