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Lance pointed out the weapon shop he’d been eyeing on our tablet, which led us away from the park and deeper inside the giant city-state. Further in, the occasional car shot by without regard to crossing pedestrians. About ten blocks from the store, a small group of people leaned with their backs against the brick wall of a store entrance, holding small rolls of burning paper between their fingers and breathing out thick waves of smoke. I coughed at the odd, bitter smell that clung to my nostrils. Lance eyed it curiously, and they narrowed their eyes.
I picked up my pace, thankful that Lance did the same.
“What was that?” The Community had nothing like it.
“No idea.”
After taking a few wrong turns, I got the uncanny feeling we were being watched. I paused, trying to sense it out. Nothing. I tried to shrug off the discomfort, but still... “Are you sure you want to get your sword here?” The few people standing in the streets wore hoods over their heads, the shadows of tall buildings concealing their faces. They kept to small groups and hushed conversations. A few cardboard boxes were set up along the alleyway with newspapers jutting out from underneath them.
“I’ve got to get a new sword eventually,” Lance pointed out, “and this is the only shop I could find.”
“Let’s hurry,” I whispered.
“We should be fine; there are leaders.” Lance pointed to two women chatting on the corner. They wore short, lacy skirts and thin tops that revealed both undergarments and midriff. Each had high, pointed heels and bright red lipstick, with colorful eye shadow and dark eyeliner that marked them as social leaders... even if it was a bit heavy-handed. No real surprise, though. In the Community, we wore plain, unfitted clothing, which was more efficient than the scanty clothing many leaders wore—especially during the cold winter. However, where everyone could look like a leader, I imagined they’d have to do more to stand out than usual.
One of them blew Lance a kiss. He smiled respectfully and waved back. I did the same. I might not be as fond of the inefficiency of leaders, but I needed to keep in practice with the formalities of the Community if I ever wanted to return.
Inside the shop, weapons of all kinds hung in cases and were displayed against dark, grimy walls. A gruff voice called to us in a language I didn’t understand. Behind us, a dark-haired Asian man lounged in a metal fold-up chair. He was a bit on the heavier side, and he fixed us with a short glare. “You tourists, or you buying?” he asked, this time in English. “I don’t take visitors.”
“If we find something we like, we’ll buy it,” I said shortly. Lance skipped over the various guns and rifles and went straight to examining the swords. I wandered around, but not much interested me. I already had my plants, and the guns looked like overkill—except for fighting a toughness beast or Special Forces. I recognized Quin’s favored nunchaku and found several display cases sporting whips, various throwing knives, and several weapons I’d never seen before.
Despite the rude man’s grunts to hurry up, Lance took his time and picked out a large broadsword. The man unlocked the case, glared at Lance, and then handed it over. Lance stepped into a little practice area, slicing the air with careful precision. The shopkeeper tensed, but now there was a gleam of approval in his eyes that was more likely motivated by money rather than Lance’s swordsmanship.
“How about this?” Lance grinned and offered me the weapon.
I nearly dropped the heavy thing. “Perhaps something lighter? At least if you plan to keep using two swords.” I grimaced as I handed it back. Next on the list of training exercises, weight lifting. “You can’t hold it one-handed.”
Lance frowned, and then exchanged the broadsword for a katana. This time he was faster, his movements as if he was dancing. Careful steps, striking and dodging invisible beasties, ducking as if there was a fireball and then quickly righting himself to block a beast behind him. He focused on his work, his unruly, dark brown hair only adding to his handsome features. Despite my reservations for his readiness for battle, he seemed majestic. When he finally froze in a waiting pose, his sword held parallel with his body, his eyes locked on mine, I gulped.
He was actually kind of attractive.
The shopkeeper leaned over the counter, the metal frame creaking with his weight. “Not bad. You buying?”
“It looks nice,” I admitted. “Coalition colors.” The sword was similar to the one Lance got from Jack, the one he didn’t break. The handle was wrapped in blue and gold fabric.
Lance beamed and presented the sword to the shopkeeper. “How much is it?”
The man flipped it over in his hands. “Thirty-six thousand yen.”
I whistled and Lance’s jaw dropped. Inese had given us quite a bit for expenses, and she had given Lance extra so he could get a new sword, but still. Expensive.
“Why don’t we call Pops and see if he says we should get it?” I started to lean against the counter, then reconsidered at the shopkeeper’s disapproving scowl. “How much did Inese give you?”
“Twenty-five thousand, though I lost some at the casino.” He glanced at me, and for a moment it looked as though he were trying to imitate a puppy. I bit my lip. Lance’s constant fighting got on my nerves, but I didn’t want him getting killed, either. “I could pay the other part, if Pops says it’s all right.”
His eyes widened. “Are you sure?” I nodded. “Thank you!” He fumbled to get the radio off his belt. After a few minutes, Pops agreed we should get the sword while we were here, but we needed to haggle the price down to twenty-eight thousand yen.
A heated argument later, with Lance pointing out that there was some minor flaw or whatever that reduced its value, we got the price Pops wanted. The shopkeeper took considerable time counting and recounting the notes and coins, and then happily handed over the sword and bid us a wonderful evening.
We thanked him in return, and stepped outside to a racket in the street.
A cluster of haggard men in shredded t-shirts and jeans jeered at the leaders we’d seen earlier. They jabbed at them, poking their ribs and grabbing their wrists. One of them tried to caress the woman’s cheek, and she slapped the man’s hand away. He glowered, grabbing her orange-streaked hair and yanking her so they were nose to nose.
How dare they attack the leaders! I unfurled my vines from their delicate crisscross pattern and Lance drew his sword. “Try not to kill them,” I murmured, sprouting thorns along the vines. “I’m not sure what the laws are here.”
“Kind of hard not to do, even with only one sharp side.” He held up the sword, reflecting the street lamp across from us. Though it was still daylight, the skyscrapers cut enough light to require the dim yellow lamps.
One of the men struck the leader’s face. His fingers were adorned with multiple brass rings. The woman shrieked, clasping her bruised cheek with a manicured hand. The other woman caught her as she fell. The men snarled, closing in and brandishing their fists.
My heart thundered in my ears. So much for three days without excitement.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Leave them alone!”
The men turned. One of them laughed, otherwise ignoring us as if we were merely an inconvenience. Lance scowled. But if they weren’t going to pay us attention, we had an advantage. I glanced to the weapon shop, expecting the shopkeeper to come running, but the door remained shut. The couple walking by didn’t spare a second glance.
What kind of place was this? Where were the security guards?
Lance strode forward, whipping his katana in a figure eight, trying to look intimidating. “She said, leave them alone.”
This time, five of the men turned toward us, annoyed, leaving only two of them to hassle the leaders. Not great odds, but they didn’t have assault rifles like Special Forces, and they weren’t beasts. Some of them carried wooden bats, or had the brass rings on their fingers, but my main concern was their numbers.
One of the men flipped his hand at us. “Go away, bodoh. You’re in the wrong place.”
I flicked my vines and narrowed my eyes. “You should have a little more respect.”
He scoffed, and whatever he said next resulted in the men around him drawing small handguns from under their jackets. My chest tightened. The leader who caught her friend scampered down the street, leaving the other one unconscious.
Hopefully she was going to get help.
“Go away, and we won’t hurt you,” I said, keeping my voice even. There had to be some way of intimidating them, even if I didn’t have my grandfather’s persuasion.
The man laughed. “You, hurt us?” He kept laughing, and the guy beside him raised his gun. I darted aside, using my speed, and cringed when the bullet clipped a leaf on my vines. Lance lunged at the one who had tried to shoot me. He rammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s shoulder and the man staggered back. Lance drew his second sword. He dodged a fist and tripped the guy with his sword’s blunt edge.
One of the other four men pulled back the trigger.
Click.
His gun fired, but I was moving too fast for him to properly aim.
Click.
Click.
His bullets flew harmlessly past. But the moment I slowed, three of the men formed a half circle around me. My heart raced. Snow surrounded me—
I wasn’t in Singapore anymore. Special Forces dropped from a helicopter and fired at the rebels in St. Petersburg. A gun cocked at the back of my head. Chill crashed to the ground and Lady Winters loomed above me, smirking even as blood dribbled down her cheek from the wound in her forehead—
I gulped. Not real. I needed to focus on the problem of the moment—
The men pointed their guns at me, expecting me to stand down. Perspiration trickled down the back of my neck, coupled with the muggy evening.
“On your knees,” one of them spat.
I stared at him, the thin chain of the flower charm as heavy as lead. He intended to maim me. Maim me and take me elsewhere to have “fun” before he killed me. I knew it as if I could read his mind, knew it as if there was some part of me waiting to latch onto this knowledge and act. Disgusting man. Nasty man. Everything seemed so... clear about his intentions... his mind.
The man’s lip quirked with annoyance. He waggled his gun, just a little, barely moving, and I pulled on my speed even more, registering my surroundings better than he ever could.
His finger tightened on the trigger. I heard the faintest click, the barest hint of a crack before the gun could fire. A tiny thrill ran through my fingers and into my vines. Energy surged through me.
He didn’t know who he was messing with.
I lashed out with a vine, the full brunt of momentum carrying along its thorny tip. The vine caught the edge of the gun. The bullet shot past me. The vine whipped across the front of the three men and knocked their guns from their hands. It wrapped around the final one’s wrist. He howled in fury as fresh blood welled onto his weaponless hand.
I grinned. One down. Two to go. Lance had already disarmed the other.
The remaining two looked in shock at their guns, which now lay on the ragged, uneven sidewalk. They me gave me dirty looks and muttered something that was most certainly an insult. They started for their knives, but I removed my vine from the downed man’s wrist and flicked their weapons out of reach.
“Here pretty thing, try that trick of yours again,” someone called from behind me.
I cocked my head and turned, letting thorns sprout along my vines. “Pretty thing? Really? You’re pathetic.” The vines grew longer, thicker, stronger. “I don’t advise coming any closer.”
The same man chuckled. “Feisty. She could be fun, yes?”
The other men hooted.
My vines curled on the ground, trembling with anticipation. Waiting for the right moment to strike. He was an idiot. I was outnumbered, but he was an idiot if he wasn’t taking into account what I’d done to his comrade.
“What do you say, girl, want to have fun?” He chinked the brass rings on both hands against each other. His eyes traveled from my face to my chest.
“I already am.” I slung my vine at him. Another man jutted in—one who had been staying down the road with the leader he’d punched—and he threw his bat in the way of my aim. My vine embedded itself along the dried wood.
I scowled, annoyed.
“Looks like she chose you first,” Brass-knuckles said.
The man swung his bat at me. I zipped out of the way. A short, bearded guy chuckled and retrieved a weighty brick from the side of the street. From the other side, a buff, red-headed bodybuilder lunged at me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid them both. Bodybuilder caught my ankle and sent me sprawling. The short man aimed a punch at my stomach. I twisted out of the way and his fist crunched against the pavement, crushed under the brick he’d grabbed.
I waggled my fingers, tingles running through my arm from my fall.
The two men closed in on me. They had ceased looking amused and looked downright angry. Actually, my flower charm made it perfectly clear they were furious.
“This time,” the man with brass knuckles growled, “you’re mine, bitch.”
Before I could react, he had me by the throat. I coughed, my vision spinning. I couldn’t breathe...
I pried at his fingers. The man brought back his fist, and then I was on the ground, dazed. Bits of gravel cut into my cheek. My vision splintered. Three Lances were fighting three bodybuilders... though there could only be one of each person. Warm, sticky blood gelled on my forehead.
Brass Knuckles drew his arm back for another punch.
A surge of energy rushed through me, and I laughed. Did he really think he could beat me?
“Wrong move.” I grabbed my right vine and I didn’t aim, just gave it a nice, strong flick.
An unexpectedly strong flick.
Bones cracked. Something hot and sticky splattered my face. The man’s head lolled at a crooked angle to his body, hanging by flaps of skin and muscle. His body collapsed. The man in the distance stared at his dead friend before fainting. The short guy paused, stared at me, and then turned and ran.
I giggled. The vulgar little rats had what was coming to them. I turned to my blurry vision of Lance, amused as he hovered over the body of the man with the brass knuckles. “Idiots.” I grinned. They never should have messed with us.
“Jenna?” Lance raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide. Surprise and concern spoiled his thoughts... spoiled his excitement for battle. What was he so worried about? No one was attacking us anymore. There was blood everywhere, and a headless man lying less than a meter away from me.
Dear Community...
The excitement from the battle spilled away and my stomach heaved. There was a headless man in the road. Blood everywhere, blood I’d spilt—
The skyscrapers around me dipped, and my vision went black with unconsciousness.
