Incubus (53 page)

to my room. How long he stood there, I don’t know. I fell asleep before I heard him move.

I found Lucas in his dream.

The campus of Coronado Prep loomed, threatening, against the background. Dark dream-clouds

swirled with too much energy in the sky above us.

“Lucas,” I called. He turned to face me, and I saw the anxiety melt in his eyes. Overhead, the

roiling motion of the clouds slowed.

“Is this a dream?” Lucas asked. I nodded. He was getting better at lucid dreaming every night. His

brow furrowed as his thoughts turned inward. “But today at the mission...?”

“That was real,” I said.

“So they’re back.”

Around us, the campus of Coronado Prep faded, leaving us in the vague half-space between

dreams. I reached for Lucas’s hand. He took it, drawing me close. This time, when our lips met, I

didn’t have to pull away. There was no Lilitu storm to battle, because I couldn’t hurt Lucas in a dream.

His arms tightened around me and I let myself sink into the sensations, relaxing for the first time

since the Thrall had attacked.

I pushed thoughts of tomorrow from my mind.

By Saturday morning, my shoulder was good as new. I slept in, luxuriating in the moment. For this

moment, no one was expecting or demanding anything from me. Even when Lucas vanished, his

dream-presence snuffed out as he awoke next door, I lingered in the sweet remnants of our night

together. Moments like this would become harder and harder to hold onto.

When I finally made my way down to the kitchen, mid-morning sunlight was streaming through

the windows and I had to squint against the glare off the countertop.

Hale was sitting with Dad at the kitchen island, looking over some handwritten notes. They looked

up as I entered.

“Morning,” I said automatically.

“Braedyn,” Hale greeted me with a cordial smile.

“How would you like your eggs?” Dad asked.

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Well, you might want to eat something anyhow,” Dad said. “How about an omelet? Green chili

and cheddar cheese?”

I glanced back at Hale, putting two and two together. “Training?”

Hale nodded.

“In that case, omelet me up.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Dad smiled and ruffled my hair on his way to the stove. I grunted, irritated,

and pulled my fingers through the wild tangle, trying to smooth it back down.

“So what are you two conspiring over this morning?” I asked Hale. Dad cracked some eggs into a

bowl and began whisking them.

Hale glanced at his notes. “Your dad and I were considering what made the most sense for your

training regimen.”

“We’re not just picking up where we left off?” I couldn’t keep my surprise out of my voice.

“I think, given the, uh, time constraints,” Hale glanced at my dad at the stove. Dad, acting like he

wasn’t listening, poured the eggs into a frying pan where they hissed furiously. So this wasn’t his idea.

I turned back to Hale. “I think it makes more sense to focus on skills you’ll be able to use sooner

rather than later,” Hale explained.

“Sooner?” I looked at the scribbled notes, hoping to hide my unease from Hale.

“I just want to be prepared,” Hale said, smiling with manufactured confidence.

“What kind of skills?”

“More hand to hand,” Hale said. “And I’d like to start training you against multiple opponents.”

“What about sword practice?”

“No bladed weapons. Not for a while, at least.”

“Order up,” Dad said, sliding a steaming omelet onto a plate in front of me.

Hale stood. “I’ll see you in the armory in an hour.” He left, and I heard the front door close behind

him.

I picked up a fork and started carving the steaming omelet into small chunks. Cheese and green

chili sauce oozed out onto the plate and my mouth watered. I was aware of Dad watching me.

“So.” I moved the omelet around on my plate, waiting for the curls of steam to dissipate before

taking a bite. “You think we’ll be fighting again soon?”

Dad sat next to me at the island. He studied his hands, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s

possible.”

“Possible like it’s possible we’ll go for ice cream today—or possible like it’s possible there are

aliens living on Mars and we don’t know it because they’re just really good at hiding?” When he

didn’t answer, I nudged him with my elbow. “Dad?”

Dad looked up, and I saw tears standing in his eyes.

“Oh.” I swallowed hard, suddenly not hungry. “This is it, isn’t it? This is the final battle.”

Dad looked back at his hands. “It’s possible,” he said again.

One hour later I was standing beside Gretchen in the basement of the Guard’s house, taping my hands

up for practice. Lucas and Matthew were already sparring on the mats behind us. Gretchen finished

taping her hands and slapped them together, hard. As I’d feared, she seemed laser-focused on the job

at hand. I sighed inwardly, knowing I’d walk out of here sore when training was over.

Gretchen turned on me abruptly. “So, listen,” she said. “Mr. Landon told me you saved Lucas’s

life, drawing that Thrall away from him before she could split his head open.” Gretchen put a hand on

my shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. “I owe you one.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Gretchen wasn’t much for displays of emotion, so it wasn’t a surprise when she turned her back on

me and walked out onto the mat. “You coming or not?” she called over her shoulder.

I hurried out to join her, growing more uneasy by the moment. It had been almost a year since I’d

done any serious training. It had only taken a few weeks for me to recover from my injuries from our

fight with Ais. Lucas’s injuries had taken much longer to heal. But neither of us had resumed training

after that night. As I faced Gretchen, I wondered how much I’d forgotten.

Quite a bit, it turned out.

Gretchen wasn’t pulling her punches, so each time I moved too slowly or failed to anticipate an

attack, I got an immediate reminder of why practicing was a good idea. Hale orbited the mat, offering

suggestions and encouragement to both Lucas and me as we fought our respective sparring partners.

Although, I noticed grimly, Matthew was taking it a lot easier on Lucas.

Distracted, I wasn’t prepared when Gretchen landed a fist in my side. I doubled over, winded.

Gretchen danced back, waiting for me to recover. “I thought you owed me one,” I wheezed.

“Do you need to stop?” she asked.

“No,” I sighed, straightening.

“Then less talk, more concentration.” She moved forward, looking for an opening. This time I kept

my eyes on her, so when she moved, I was ready. I blocked her punch and followed it up with a quick

attack that forced her to step back, wheeling around to defend herself. As she struggled to regain her

balance, I struck, connecting solidly.

She let out an
oooof!
of air, then grinned. “Nice,” she managed. “Keep your elbows in.”

We sparred for close to an hour, when Hale called a water break.

Lucas collapsed into a chair, letting some of his water dribble down the sides of his mouth as he

gulped it in. I sat beside him, wiping sweat off my face with the edge of my t-shirt.

Matthew and Gretchen took their time with their water. A fine sheen of sweat gleamed along their

brows, but nether was breathing heavily. Hale walked over to them to talk. I saw Gretchen glance at

me, a calculating look in her eyes.

“Not looking forward to tomorrow morning,” Lucas said, rubbing a sore shoulder with one hand. I

smiled in sympathy. Lucas sighed. “Don’t even. Tomorrow morning you won’t even have a bruise.”

“I don’t have to heal fast,” I said. “If you’d prefer, I can always leave your dreams alone.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lucas murmured, catching my hand in his and giving it a warm squeeze. His

smile was warm, intimate. If this were a dream I’d lean forward to kiss him. But we weren’t dreaming.

“Okay, break’s over,” Hale said, turning. Lucas and I quickly released hands and Lucas let out a

groan of despair. Hale saw Lucas’s ashen expression and smiled. “Why don’t you sit this one out?”

Lucas and I both sat back, relieved.

“Not you,” Gretchen said, giving me a wicked grin. “Come on. Up.”

“I’m going to show you a few techniques for handling multiple opponents,” Hale said. “Then we’ll

get you started practicing them.” He gestured to Gretchen and Matthew. “Okay. Come at me.”

Gretchen and Matthew traded a quick look, evidentially agreeing on a plan of attack with a few

terse gestures. They sprang at Hale, Gretchen from the front, Matthew from behind. Hale blocked

Gretchen’s attack, but while his attention was focused on her, Matthew came behind him, pinning his

arms behind his back. Gretchen renewed her attack on Hale, who kicked out at her, using her body as

leverage to shove Matthew backwards. Matthew lost his grip on Hale. Hale rolled free, sweeping a

foot behind Matthew’s leg and knocking the younger man flat on his back.

Matthew let out a grunt of surprised pain, and Gretchen’s eyes narrowed. Lucas let a low whistle

escape beside me. I glanced at him and he grinned ruefully. “She’s pissed,” he murmured. “Hale better

watch it.”

Gretchen danced back, judging Hale’s movement. She sprang at him and Hale had to throw

himself awkwardly aside to miss the attack. As he scrambled to gain his footing, Gretchen threw

herself on the ground at his feet, catching him around the knees with her legs and twisting. Hale went

down like a tree felled by an axe, sprawling on the ground. Gretchen was on him in half a second,

pinning him to the ground, fist poised to strike his throat.

“Yeah, okay,” Hale wheezed. “You win.”

Gretchen rolled off him and walked over to Matthew, who was smiling broadly. She offered him

her hand, then helped him stand. Hale stood and gestured to me.

“I don’t know about this,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Hale said. “We’ll start slow.”

Slow, I discovered, was a relative term. Hale had Gretchen and Matthew attack at one quarter

speed the first couple of times while he talked me through some strategies for dealing with them both

at once. The main technique Hale seemed interested in teaching me involved a fairly quick series of

moves to redirect the first attacker while repositioning for the second. Even at quarter-speed, I found

myself breathing harder.

After we’d run through a few slow-motion fights, Hale stepped back.

“Right, let’s pick it up.” He nodded to Gretchen and Matthew.

Gretchen met my eye. “Ready?” she asked.

“I guess?” I barely had time to raise my hands in a defensive position before they sprang. My first

instinct was to turn and run, but Hale was there, shouting instructions, so I did my best to fight back.

Only, my timing seemed completely off. I’d turn my attention to one, just in time to give the second

the perfect opening to tag me with a fist. To be fair, Gretchen and Matthew were fighting half-strength

at best, but facing twice as many fists and feet as I was used to was overwhelming. Each time they

drove me off the mat, Hale would call a stop to the fight and we’d reset in the center of the room. We

drilled the same attack and defense over and over and over. Each time I took more punches than I

gave, and each time I ended up getting driven off the mat. It was demoralizing.

By the end of the session, my whole body ached and my mind felt like it had been forced through a

strainer. It was my turn to collapse into a chair. Lucas had a small towel and a bottle of water ready

for me.

“I feel like a boxer in the ninth inning,” I groaned.

Lucas shook his head. “It’s rounds in boxing, not innings. But you did kind of look like a boxer by

the end there.”

I was mid-gulp, so I couldn’t laugh in disbelief. Lucas read my expression and shook his head.

“Look,” he said, pointing. I turned and saw Gretchen and Matthew, leaning against a table, gulping

down their own waters. “You gave them a workout.”

Huh. They did look kind of exhausted. I finished the bottle of water and smiled, taking a deep

breath.

“You did well, you two,” Hale said, joining us. “Why don’t you rest? We’ll take care of the