Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) (4 page)

Tony had tried it once, but he had fallen asleep. Thomas had left him there for Killjoy to find. Elise had tried it too, but instead of doing a short time every day, she would stay one or two hours on the weekend. She said it cleared her thoughts and focused her mind.

      Thomas was sure that today was going to be one of those days that Elise would stay for a long time after training. Killjoy had drilled Tony and Elise heavily the night before because of their little fight in the Doctor’s office. Both of them looked tired, and their muscles ached after the extra training session. Tony tried to suppress exhaustion yawns as best he could.

      “Gather,” Killjoy ordered after their usual sparring session was over. She was an impressive figure in her true form. When she demonstrated fighting forms and sparred, Thomas could easily picture her in an action movie with her six arms flailing about, each holding a weapon and slashing or blocking the attacks directed at her. Thomas was sure that she had complete control of how her attacks and motions looked to the observer. In her movements he had seen her display strength, or speed, intimidation or even playfulness. When she sparred with Henri he had even glimpsed an alluring provocation.

      For a six-armed creature of legend, Killjoy could be very sexy when she wanted to.

She sheathed the swords she had been using to demonstrate attack techniques and crossed her six arms as her dark brown hair flowed freely behind her. They stood in a line in front of her. “We need to assess Morgan’s team,” she said. “Their strengths, martial prowess, Magical capabilities, and especially their vulnerabilities.”

      “I know how we can find out, Doyenne,” Tony offered after lifting his hand and waiting for Killjoy to acknowledge him. “I can have Bella and my Watchmen ready and waiting for them in New York. Then we visit say, the Met, and when they show up we spring a trap on them. We might even get lucky and capture them.”

      “Hey!” Thomas said. “I don’t want to endanger Gramps.” Thomas knew Bella and the other Watchmen, and he had seen how they dealt with “Mashcrits,” what they called Magical creatures, especially Bella, who always carried a double-barreled shotgun under her coat. 

      He wasn't going to let Tony's old enforcer team get close to Gramps.

      Tony turned toward Thomas. “We'll take care not to hurt any of them, especially Morgan.”

      “I don’t care,” Thomas insisted. “I’m not going to be part of that.”

      “Look, Thomas. I know you don’t want to accept this, but Morgan’s on the other side now,” Tony explained as contained as he could. “He’s the—”

      “The what?” Thomas yelled. “The enemy? That’s exactly what one of his bodyguards said about me before trying to put a bolt through my head in Ormagra, and Gramps stopped him.”

      “Enough!” Killjoy intervened, and both of them turned to her. “This debate serves no one. Doctor Franco and I will make the decision on how to handle this situation. You will not talk about it, or make any plans about this anymore,” she said to Tony. “You are a team, and I will not tolerate infighting. Are we clear?”

      “Yes, Doyenne,” they all answered, although Tony did through clenched teeth.

      “Meanwhile…” Killjoy clapped and her monk attendants brought out three racks with weapons and set them out behind her. “You will begin weapon training.”

      Thomas sneered; he was also set against raising a weapon against his grandpa and was about to speak up when Killjoy interrupted his thoughts.

      “This is not a request,” she told him sternly. “Morgan and his guards are not the only dangers you’ll be facing. There are other creatures out there—Fae and human enemies of Guardians Inc., and the Wraith too. Are you forgetting about Tasha? She won’t hesitate to kill you the next time she faces you.”      

      
Tasha. 

      Thomas hadn’t forgotten Tasha, but he had relegated her to the back of his mind. He preferred to remember her as he had met her—the beautiful Elven queen with the emerald eyes and sweet voice instead of the Wraith-infused monstrosity she had become when she’d tried to kill them in Ormagra.

      Before King Seryaan had sealed the Wraith City, the company had sent autonomous underwater vehicles to confirm that Ormagra was, once again, lifeless. The AUVs had entered through a shaft in the ocean floor created by powerful magic and searched every inch of the city for signs of Wraith activity. They had all seen the reports; the videos showed creatures turned to stone where they stood when the cleansing light of Perseus reached them, and some had even turned to stone as they were coming out from the angles and crevices of the structures. They had searched extensively for Tasha, but they had found nothing remotely similar to the creature she had become. Thomas still had nightmares of her Wraith figure—her elongated arms with razor sharp claws, the distended jaw full of crystalline teeth, her beady, black eyes centered on him, and the grotesque folds of skin that had grown over her body. The nightmares usually ended with the sickening crunch of her leathery wings sprouting from her back as she realized that Thomas had activated the Perseus statue. 

      He had woken up many times with the echo of her last howl of pure rage still ringing in his ears. It had been those wings that had taken her to safety, and reports from crab fishermen in the Bering’s Sea about a flying devil coming from a whirlpool confirmed that she had most probably escaped as Ormagra flooded.

      Killjoy had just reminded Thomas that she was out there, and that she was out for blood.

      “We’ll begin with two styles of weapons; one of your choosing and one that I’ll assign to you. You go first, Baboon.”

      Tony approached the racks. It was an easy choice for him since he was already proficient in Eskrima. He grabbed an elegant, curved sword and felt its weight in his hand.

      “A Dahon Palai,” Killjoy said. “Are you going to train with sword and dagger?”

      “Not really.” Tony grabbed another Dahon Palai and twirled them as he did with his fighting sticks. “Is this doable, Doyenne?” he asked, and she nodded approvingly.

      “Elven warriors are proficient in two same lenght swords. It is very fitting for you to learn the style.”

      Bolswaithe was next; he quickly grabbed a Bo staff capped with metal. He twirled and tested it, then separated it at the middle, throwing one of the parts away and then pulling it back around his arm. A slender chain joined the two ends, and he was already proficient thanks to his software download. But he was sure Killjoy had more techniques than those he could learn from any program.

      With distaste, Elise chose a short and slender straight sword after Killjoy told her that Magic would be insufficient or even unsafe to use at certain times. She twirled the sword a couple of times and almost cut herself in the leg with it.

Henri didn’t choose any weapon, arguing that he couldn’t carry it at all times and preferred a more direct approach by cracking his knuckles. The grotesque was an impressive creature when not curled around his usual guardian spot at the front of the Mansion. He had a muscular torso and arms almost twice as wide as Thomas’s legs. There were few things that could stand in Henri's way and for those that did get in his way he used his wings or tail. He was the muscle of his team but instead of flesh, Henri was made of granite, which only made him more formidable. “A weapon will only be a burden. Where will I keep it when I'm transformed?” Henri asked.

He was already imposing without a weapon.

Killjoy listened to his arguments but still made him grab a mace. “Even if you don’t carry a weapon with you at all times, anything can be turned into a mace.” When Henri was about grumble again she added, “Even an enemy.” The comment made him smile and he slapped the mace appreciatively.

      It was Thomas’s turn to choose. Killjoy walked beside him in front of the weapon racks. “I know what you think,” she told him, “but you still need to train with a weapon.”

      Thomas paused in front of a rack, and then turned toward Killjoy. “Can it be any weapon?” he asked.

      “Any.”

      “I choose these,” he said as he grabbed a pair of wooden nunchaku from the rack.

      Tony mumbled something under his breath.

      “Do you have something to say, Baboon?” Killjoy turned toward Tony. “Say it, don’t keep it to yourself.”

      “Yes, Doyenne. I do.” Tony stepped forward. “I said damn Bruce Lee.”

      “What?” Thomas asked.

      “Damn. Bruce. Lee.” Tony approached Thomas. “Look Thomas, I know you want to think this is just a game or something, and that Morgan is just on an opposite team, that once someone finds the
Book of Concord,
the game ends and everything goes back to normal and you’ll have Morgan by your side again. But it’s not going to happen. There’s no good ending unless we get the Book. If the Warmaster gets it, its curtains for our world. And while Morgan will do everything to protect you, his team probably wants you dead.”

      “I know that,” Thomas said defensively.

      “You know that?” Tony raised his voice. “It’s my job!” he yelled and motioned toward the rest of them. “It's our job to keep you safe and alive, and you’re making it incredibly difficult. You won’t carry a real gun, just the darts, and instead of using a proper weapon you act as if you were damn Bruce Lee!”

      The sound of the nunchakus cutting the air as they twirled drew Thomas and Tony from their argument. Killjoy had grabbed a pair of nunchakus and was twirling them between her six arms, passing them from one set to the other in a fluid motion.

      “These are proper weapons,” she said, twirling the nunchakus at Tony, the tip of the weapon barely touching his eyebrows. Suddenly, there was another pair of nunchakus twirling in her arms. She threw hits at Tony, each one perfectly aimed and just barely touching his clothing or his hair. Thomas stepped back, but Tony remained motionless inside the arc of the weapons; if he tried to move he was sure to get hit.

      “They're fast, spirited, concealable, and completely unfamiliar to most Magical creatures.” She continued twirling the weapons faster and faster and exchanging them seamlessly between her arms, side to side and up or down in a mesmerizing display, which she ended in a combat posture. “They are a perfect backup weapon.”

      Tony breathed in relief. “I understand, Doyenne.” He relaxed a little bit.

      “Good,” Killjoy told him, extending the nunchakus in her arms toward him. “I'm assigning these to you, and you will train with Thomas and me.”

      Tony accepted the nunchakus. “Yes, Doyenne.”

Killjoy pushed him aside with one of her hands and centered her gaze on Thomas. “It’s a very good choice for a backup weapon, but the Azure Guard specializes in Sleeth Arnoi and Sleeth Mored, and both are bladed disciplines. You will learn to use a sword and dagger just like them.” She pulled a slender sword and a dagger with a wide pommel from the rack and handed it to him.

      Thomas held her gaze and clenched a fist.

      “No more arguments,” she said, pushing the blades to his chest. 

      “Yes, Doyenne.” Thomas grudgingly grabbed them.

      “We begin tomorrow. Take the weapons with you and familiarize yourselves with their weight and length,” she said as she clapped her hands and walked toward the temple entrance. The monks picked up the weapon racks.

      Thomas and Tony exchanged an angry look, but said nothing more.

Oscar

      The library had been unusually quiet that night, and Thomas took the time to finish the homework Mrs. Pianova had assigned for the next day.

      He had added a couple of touches to his workstation—a photo of his family when he was about ten years old vacationing in the snow, and another with Gramps while they were having dinner in a fancy restaurant to celebrate a birthday. He had just suffered a cursory eyebrow lift from Mrs. Pianova as she approached his station to take a good look at the pictures and “confirm” that they were not of dubious content.

      Mrs. Pianova was a stern boss. As head librarian of Pervagus Mansion she was in control of the largest depository of human knowledge. A copy of practically all books written after the 3rd Century resided in the main body of the library, and Mrs. Pianova assured Thomas that it grew by the second as a copy of all books, essays, and even e-mails written around the world were stored inside. She did not tell him how it was done; Bolswaithe tried to explain it once, but as always, when Bolswaithe began to talk about Quantum Mechanics, Thomas was lost.

      It was easier to say that it was through Magic.

      Thomas felt safe as he worked in his library station. He had found books that didn't exist outside, like five more novels about
Captain Nemo
and
the Nautilus. 
There were four more novels about
The Three Musketeers,
and even one that Alexander Dumas wrote where their servants, not the actual Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'artagnan, were the main characters.

      Mrs. Pianova encouraged him to read the classics, and it was actually part of his studies as a Guardian to read many of them, especially H.P. Lovecraft’s
Chtulhu Mythos. 
Lovecraft had been a Guardian and an investigator of the Wraith. His stories both published and unpublished gave a deep insight into the motivation of the enemy, and although he had never seen it, he knew a copy of the
Necronomicon
and other occult and powerful tomes were securely hidden away inside the Pervagus Vault.

      He stopped typing a paper he needed to turn in the morning to try and hear if Mrs. Pianova was approaching. She was as stealthy as cats hunting mice, and now that she was in charge of his studies he couldn't do anything more on his workstation until after he had finished his homework.

      Although she was demanding and rigorous, Thomas had a great relationship with her. In his mind, she had become the grandmother he never met.

      Twenty minutes later he finished his paper and decided to stay late at his workstation…again. Since his argument with Tony, he had been staying late. He still ate lunch with Tony, Elise, and Henri every day on the front lawn of the Mansion, but they only exchanged a couple of words, enough to keep things civil.