97 (Rise of the Battle Bred) (3 page)

He started walking toward the nurse’s office again, and I followed, simply because that was where my hall pass said I needed to be.

The nurse determined that I did have a low-grade fever, and said I should go ahead and go home.

I just shook my head, royally confused. I knew why I felt hot, and it had nothing to do with a virus. But any excuse to go home was a good one, so I went to my locker.

Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome followed me, and I kind of just gave up. If he wanted to tag behind me like a gosh darn puppy dog all the day long, who was I to stop him?  It’s not like I felt threatened by him. Unless fearing that my heart might beat out of my chest or my skin might spontaneously ignite counted as threatening. ‘Cause that was definitely going on.

“So you’re quite the expert on ancient warfare, huh?”  I asked him as I scooped books out of the bottom of my locker. I expected him to answer me right away, but instead there was silence.

When I turned to look up at him, his gaze was far away. I waved my hand in front of his face and he blinked.

“Sorry. I, uh, like to study history,” He offered to carry my book bag.

“No thanks, I got it. I have a paper route. I’m actually pretty buff,” I said, not caring if I sounded like I was bragging.

William snorted. “Ever run into anything on your bike?”  He asked me without a hitch.

“No, except this morning I almost…” I gasped. “How did you know I ride a bike?  Wait…are you freaking spying on me?”  He must have witnessed my embarrassing near-collision with his moving truck! My pitch hit the ceiling. I thought I might actually freak out in the middle of the school hallway. What happened to my balance?  My old world and my trends and my cool gangster swag?  William was turning me into a hot mess!

William started chuckling. Then he laughed, and his deep voice just rolled with laughter and it reverberated throughout the tile hallway and bounced against the lockers and sounded so full of life and abundance and vitality that I couldn’t help but laugh too, and maybe, just maybe, fall a little bit into him.

Zarastrid’s Log Day 89

Year of Our Loch 107

Zainel
perfected the potions. It is the eve of the genesis of our Warrior race. I suspect I am not the only one who cannot sleep. The girls have been told that they have been chosen for a special purpose, and that it comes to fruition tomorrow. They appear to be excited, but cautiously so. I don’t doubt Agnes has warned them that all is not as it seems. But I haven’t hinted at her future at all, so I wouldn’t know what she could have told them.

He anticipates the Battle Spawn to be able to do remarkable things. He infused his potions with the speed of the wasp, the strength of the ox, the vision of the eagle, the scent of the wolf. He also used the regenerative powers of some strange reptiles he found near the Loch where we were born.

I understand there is supposed to be some sort of ability regarding their vision, but I was woolgathering when he explained it.

I admit his magicks and sciences do not interest me. He natters on and on about this being the penultimate creation of all time.

Nevermind. My brethren work, and I plan, and soon enough we will have government seats eating out of our hands.

He followed me out to the parking lot. I stopped and looked at all the cars and my shoulders slumped. “Dang it. Crady drove me this morning,” I started walking.

“I’ll drive you,” He said.

I quirked my lips as I was thinking. “No, it’s all right. I can walk,” I kept walking and looked over my shoulder. “You really should probably go back to class. I didn’t see Nurse Smithy give you a pass.”

“I’ll take my chances,” He said. He continued to walk along beside me.

I could not figure this guy out. He wasn’t pushy, like, he wasn’t making me ride with him, and yet he was still getting what he wanted, because he was walking with me. I guess that was the part that I couldn’t figure out; why did he want to be with me? 

Why would he want to hang out with me when there were seriously cute girls, like the Ticks, for example?   Sure, their conversation might leave a little to be desired, but they were always dressed to the nines (oooh, good one, Mom) and their hair was all that, and they positively exuded…well, I personally wouldn’t want to exude what I thought they were exuding…

“Penny for your thoughts?”  William’s deep voice intruded into my stream-of-consciousness.

“Ha! Wow, that’s an old phrase,” I answered him with a smile that erupted on my face of its own volition.

He stared at my face expressionless, which was unnerving. Then he smiled right back, and I felt this hitch in my heart. “You never answered my question,” He reminded me.

“That’s because my thoughts are worth WAY more than a penny. I don’t know about the cost of things ‘out east’,” I put air quotes on his evasive answer from earlier, “but thoughts out here in these parts cost at least a ten-spot,” I gave him a cheeky grin and kept on walking.

Before I knew it, a ten dollar bill met my gaze as I stared at the sidewalk.

“Oh no,” I shoved his money back towards him. I gave a humorless laugh. “I should have made it clear. These thoughts are NOT for sale,” I walked faster, not necessarily trying to get away, but certainly feeling uncomfortable with William’s eagerness.

I snuck a look at him again. I’d never met anyone that looked so broody before, in a Mr. Darcy sort of way. He had the whole pirate good looks thing going on. He never really lagged behind either. His stride was so long he had no trouble matching mine.

“How about this, Jane?”  He paused, and I looked quickly at him, curious. “I’ll answer any three questions you have for me, if you answer any three I ask of you,” He wiggled his brows at me. The wiggling eyebrows greatly contradicted the humorless expression that he wore for most of the day, other than his outburst of laughter in the hallway.

I couldn’t help but giggle a little bit. “Hmm. Okay. I go first.”

He nodded solemnly.

I stopped my walk and gave him a good hard look.

He never flinched at my unwavering gaze.

I frowned a little too, trying to think of a good one. “I’ll start out easy. Where exactly are you from?”

“Toledo, Ohio,”

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  I ribbed him. “So do I get to go again, or is it your turn?”

He folded his massive arms and made a thoughtful pose with his finger on his mouth.

Flashes of imagination riddled my mind…what would it be like if I put my finger on his mouth?  Crap! I felt a blush coming on. I started chanting
Toledo, Ohio
in my head. It was a nice calm thought that had no reason to make me blush.

“Yeah, I think I’ll take my turn now,” He said, nodding seriously.

Of course he would. I shouldn’t have told him my weakness right off the bat. He could use it against me at will!

“What is your favorite subject in school?”  He asked.

I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately felt my skin cool. Thank goodness. “That’s easy. English,”

He smiled at me. “There you go. Your turn,”

I considered re-asking him the question about what his dad did for a living, but did I want to waste a question?  Then again, was he going to play hardball with me, if I asked him something really personal?  This called for some serious deliberation. I began walking again. He patiently waited. It would have helped me if I knew he struggled with the same embarrassment issues that I did. But he seemed as calm as ever.

“What kind of exercise do you do?”  I finally decided to ask. It was killing me, the sight of his sculpted tan biceps straining against his white shirt sleeves, and the ripple of muscle under the skin in his forearms. How did a person get muscles on their forearms?

I looked over at him, and didn’t miss the small smile he made disappear with the swipe of his palm. “Hm. It’s kind of hard to explain,” He started.

I interrupted him. “Hey, you have to answer! Is it like Krav Maga or something?”

He gestured me to calm down. “Uh, kind of.”

“Tai Chi?”  I blurted out.

“Just…give me a minute,” He stopped walking and looked around. We were on a sidewalk a couple neighborhoods away from our street. He spied a small playground across a field. “Come on, it’ll be easier to show you.”

“Parkour?”  I asked him.

He shook his head, exasperated.

We jogged to the playground.

He climbed the play structure and balanced with one leg on a wooden post. He began a series of graceful moves. Some looked reminiscent of Asian self-defense movements, while others twisted his body in the act of what looked like violent thrusts with an imaginary weapon. The difficulty of the regimen seemed to escalate. He switched effortlessly from one leg to another. Then he began to leap from one post to another, heedless of the swaying bridge and curvy slide. I gasped with each jump, fearing he would fall and break something, but I needn’t have worried. William’s body was a finely tuned instrument of power and grace.

Woe to the enemy of this man!

The expression on William’s face was grim; he seemed in another time and place. Fluidly, he moved, his jeans plastered against the thick muscles of his thighs. He never even glanced at me.

It was just as well. I had to wipe some drool off my chin and tweak my shirt away from my belly repeatedly to cool off. Maybe I did have a fever.

He finally jumped down, a twelve-foot drop if it was an inch, landing softly on the balls of his feet.

I simply stared, jaw dropped in astonishment.

“I suppose there’s a little parkour involved,” he said with a shrug. He wasn’t panting or sweating.

I put my arms up, a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what to say,” I was completely amazed. And a little afraid at the raw power he displayed.

He walked up to me and looked down. “It’s called
Misrillet
. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t believe I had been admiring the arc of my throwing arm this morning. I was such a dope. I didn’t have time to feel self-conscious about it though because William launched into his next question.

“How do you know when you’re blushing?”  He went right for my jugular.

I growled at him. “You would,” I headed back across the field toward the sidewalk.

“What?  It’s an honest question!” he exclaimed.

I smirked. “Just give me a minute. It’s hard to explain,” I told him cheekily. We started up on the sidewalk again. “I can feel my blush start because I feel hot and sweaty. It’s unpleasant because I have no control over it whatsoever. It’s like advertising to the whole world that I’m feeling embarrassed. In the animal kingdom, it would probably precede my imminent death,” I let my breath out with a whoosh, feeling glad to get that answer out of the way. I looked at him, curious what he would think of it.

He frowned. “That could definitely be a problem,” was all he said.

I perked up. I had one more question. I chewed on my lower lip trying to think of a really good one. Although, he could hardly top the display at the playground. His performance pretty much made my month. I could see reliving his exercise regimen in my mind over and over again. His muscles positively danced beneath his skin as he moved and flexed with his Misrillet. What language was that?  That could be my question. I opened my mouth to ask, when a black blur wavered across my peripheral vision.

We both looked to the right, by the houses. I told myself it was probably a cat, except I felt a prickle of inexplicable terror wash through me. And cats were a good deal smaller than the blur I spied. It was more like the size of a bear, but that was patently ridiculous.

Before I could react, he placed himself between me and the houses and yards. “It’s okay,” I said. “Probably just a cat,”
An enormously huge black cat? 
I thought to myself.

He ignored my statement. Instead, he assumed a ready stance. He gestured for me to be still, and he peered at the dark spaces inside of bushes and behind garbage bins. Another streak of black startled out of a bush, knocked over a trash bin with a clatter, and disappeared again behind someone’s shed. It was way, way, too big to be a cat.

No. This was my small town in which nothing of note ever happened. It had to be something harmless. Like a big dog, for example.

Belying my denial, William put his bulk between me and the shed, not even letting me look around his shoulder at the phantom.

My heart had begun racing as soon as I first saw the dark image, and it only sped up as I noticed William’s demeanor. His somewhat light mood had sobered considerably, and I thought I heard him growl once. Frankly, he was putting me more on edge than I thought was necessary considering it was just a... I licked my lips. A super big dog?   Or maybe the Dinkle’s dog that had the annoying habit of breaking away from his chain about every three weeks and digging in people’s trash cans?   Uncertainty mixed with bile in my belly. I was offically weirded out.

We stood like that for a good ten minutes, his body forming a protective wall between some unseen and
uncomfirmed danger and myself.

I couldn’t explain it, but I felt compelled to be silent, though my heart thundered loudly in my chest and my blood ran with torrential force in my ears. I didn’t really think it was a cat, did I?  Or the
Dinkle’s dog.

Something about watching William’s exercise regimen had me trusting his instincts. If he told me to stay put, then I was staying put. Gradually my heart slowed, particularly since there was no longer any sign of what we had spied earlier.

Nothing else happened, and he relaxed. We started walking again. If he was embarrassed for overreacting, he didn’t show it. I decided not to bring it up, either. Dumb dog.