by K M Martinez
“You’ve got that one down real well,” Mel said after a few minutes.
“It’s my favorite,” said Devilyn with a smile.
“I can tell.”
Glen Coudrou spoke up. “My father says Rain in High Wind isn’t an honorable form because you’re trying to attack someone’s back.”
Mel laughed. Roy Coudrou had now been eliminated from weapons Decerto three times thanks to an opponent who used Rain in High Wind.
“I suppose he would say that, considering he has an awful time countering it,” said Mel.
“Mel!” said Glen.
“Oh, come on, I love your dad. But seriously, don’t hesitate to strike an opponent’s back. We are honorable, but we aren’t honorable to a fault.”
She ran through a few more forms with Devilyn, including The Charging Stag, Feather in the Air, and The Dragon Flicks Its Tongue. After she finished with Devilyn, the others wanted a turn, which she allowed, giving them adjustments and occasionally stopping to demonstrate the forms slowly. She made sure to have Glen run through Rain in High Wind, which he did halfheartedly until she asked him if he enjoyed wasting people’s time. Then he dove into the form with more fervor.
Once they’d all had a turn, they stood in a line and gave a small bow. Mel bowed back, and they ran off like a shot into the darkness. Mel had no doubt they'd find a quiet place away from prying eyes where they could duel each other until their parents found them and dragged them to bed.
She went into her tent, changed out of her dress, and placed it under her bed. As she did, she noticed the clothes and boots she’d placed there earlier were slightly rumpled—and she knew she hadn’t left them like that. She hated when people went through her things. But nothing had been taken, so she put the thought aside and got into bed.
Her neck was throbbing—she really needed another painkiller. She needed to get up and get some water and pills. And she needed to get her stone back from Thrash.
Her eyes slipped shut, and she was out.
****
Gabe and the woman from Clan Mayme moved sensually to the music, the hem of her white dress softly swaying. Most descendants had retreated to their beds, leaving only a few couples on the dance floor and a few others loitering near the bar.
The owl, as Gabe was starting to think of her—he couldn’t remember her name—ran her hands in slow circles down his back. She had appeared while tempers were high; she blew in like a cool breeze, and within seconds, she’d calmed the waters and dispelled his ire. She was Asian with long dark hair, brown eyes, and skin the color of caramel. Gabe thought she smelled beautiful, and the fact that she was beautiful only made it that much sweeter.
The owl’s red lips coiled in a knowing smile. “Gabriel Mendez.”
Gabe did so love it when a woman said his name. The owl said it with a soft accent. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go somewhere else, hmm?”
The look in her eyes was all the agreement he needed. Grabbing one of her roaming hands, he led her off the dance floor and toward the wooded area, past the couples, past where he hoped any eyes could see—more for her sake than his own. When he was sure no one was in the vicinity, he leaned up against a tree, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
The owl leaned into the kiss and moaned into his mouth. He let his hands roam over her chest, her hips, her ass, up her back. The owl ran her hands down the front of his pants and unzipped his fly. She broke the kiss and knelt down to take him into her mouth. Gabe enjoyed her attentions until he felt he was close, then pulled away.
“Come here,” he said, and pulled her up for a kiss.
“You didn’t—”
Gabe shushed her, turned her so she had her back to the tree, got on his knees, and returned the favor. When she climaxed, he got up, pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped it open, and rolled it on. Before she had fully recovered, he was pulling down her panties. She gave a breathy laugh at his eagerness and ran a hand through his hair.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he pushed into her.
Then there were no words.
Later, they walked hand in hand back to the tents. Gabe enjoyed the comfortable silence. He liked how at ease the woman was. She wasn’t awkward or embarrassed in the least. She just held his hand and walked barefoot in the grass, holding her heels in her free hand. Gabe thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“What are you looking at, Mendez?” she asked.
“You. In the moonlight. You’re exquisite.”
She laughed, full and loud. “I heard you were a sweet talker. You don’t have to be so sweet, though; I’ve already let you have me.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Maybe I want you more than once,” he said, looking in her eyes.
The owl looked surprised, but recovered quickly. “Maybe you’ll get me,” she said. “But maybe with a bit more conversation beforehand this time.”
They continued walking slowly, hand in hand. Tonight wasn’t a one-time thing, and for a change, Gabe liked that.
Gabe dropped the owl off at her tent, and after sharing one more slow kiss, he walked back to the Kale tents. He racked his brain for the owl’s name, but just could not remember it. He was going to have to play it cool around her and hope to catch her name when someone else said it. No self-respecting woman would give him the time of day if he couldn’t remember her name after they’d had sex. He sure did feel like a damn fool. A sexually satisfied damn fool, he thought with a grin.
As Gabe passed near the Janso tents, he heard voices talking quietly.
“Hemanth, please give me the stone.” The Irish accent identified the speaker as Sean O’Shea.
Curious, Gabe crept toward the voices. Three forms stood in the darkness behind a tent—Hemanth Reddy, Sean O’Shea, and someone else he couldn’t see. Gabe hid in the darkness and listened.
“I prefer not to,” replied Sapienti Reddy. “Even with what you said they were used for, there’s no way they would work now. They’re useless.”
“Perhaps. And perhaps they will rip a hole into our realm and release Malum into the world,” said the third figure. Gabe knew that voice too. Cori O’Shea.
“Let’s say I believe my stone was used as a gateway to Inter Spatium Abyssus,” said Sapienti Reddy. “Someone with power would need to activate it. Unless we’ve all gained celestial powers without my knowing, I think the stone is safe where it is.”
“Listen, old man—”
“Cori, show respect,” said Sean.
Cori made a frustrated noise.
“Hemanth,” Sean said. “That gateway stone has the power to end the world. You may not believe it, but I do, and I believe that having that stone in the hands of someone who is completely ignorant of its power is the same as having it in the hands of someone who wants to commit malicious intent with it. It is worth killing for—”
“Killing? Do you think—do you think the stone I gave Mel was what her attacker was searching for?”
Cori straightened. “Mel was attacked? By who?”
Sean sighed. “It happened last night. And yes, Hemanth, I do believe it was because of the stone you gave her.”
Sapienti Reddy seemed to shrink. “You think it’s the Eighth Clan?”
Gabe’s ears perked up. He’d never heard of an Eighth Clan.
Apparently neither had Cori. “Eighth Clan?” she asked.
“This isn’t the place to talk about it. I’ll tell you later,” said Sean. Then to Sapienti Reddy: “I have a clansman working on getting information on the attacker. You’ll know when I know, but in the meantime… the stone, Hemanth?”
Sapienti Reddy paused. “I’ll give it to you before the Agora is over.”
“Hemanth, it’s not safe. For all we know, Mel isn’t safe either. Did you see what happened tonight? There are changes coming.”
“That was just posturing. There are twenty-five hundred descendants here. Loyal descendants. It will be safe.
Mel will be safe.”
Sean O’Shea shook his head. Clearly he didn’t agree with Sapienti Reddy.
Gabe wasn’t sure he agreed with him either.
When the three left, Gabe waited another five minutes before moving on. Questions were spinning through his head, and he needed answers—he needed to talk it out with someone. When he got back to the Kale tents, he burst into the sleeping quarters he shared with Victor and Tío Jorge.
Tío Jorge was passed out on his cot, but Victor was lying down reading a book: Dishonor and Punishment in Accordance with The Ways.
Victor looked up at Gabe, then looked back at his book. “If you’re about to tell me you got laid, don’t bother: it’s all over camp how you snuck into the woods with Siva what’s-her-name from Clan Mayme.”
“That’s her name! Siva! Wait, no, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”
Gabe relayed the conversation that he’d overheard. “Have you ever heard of these gateway stones?”
“No,” said Victor.
“Should we ask Mel?” She was the bookish one.
“You ask her,” said Victor. He put his book down on the floor. “Get her to tell you everything about them.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Victor’s expression was resolute. “I’m going to find out what the Eighth Clan is.”
Chapter Five
Mel woke up the next morning with the strangest feeling. It was as if the earth was shifting around her. She chalked it up to a lack of sleep. With bitter resolve, she threw the blankets off her body, stretched, and rose to her feet. It was still early, the tent was dark, and she could hear the soft snores of her bunkmates.
Her neck was on fire. Luckily, her grandmother had left the paste by her cot, and as soon as Mel applied it, the burning instantly eased.
Mel put on her sandals, not caring how they went with her bedclothes, grabbed the welcome kit flashlight, pulled out her shower caddy from her bag, grabbed a change of clothes, and left the tent, heading in the direction of the bathroom facilities. At the end of the tent, a Kale youth in his late teens was half asleep at a table. A lamp lit the area where he kept watch halfheartedly.
“So how was it?” she asked him.
“Boring as hell.”
“No drama?”
“None yet. But your brother might start some with Clan Mayme and Clan Janso.”
Mel frowned. “Because of what happened at the ceremony?”
“Nah. Bedded Sandeep Reddy’s daughter.” The youth raised his eyebrows. “In the woods.”
Mel sighed. Sandeep Reddy was Sapienti Reddy’s younger brother. He was prickly and conservative, and his daughter, Siva, was his only child. Mel had heard that Sandeep Reddy was arranging a marriage for Siva with a family in Clan Janso, but Siva was a free spirit like her mother, the late Kiri Reddy of Clan Mayme. Anyone who spent five minutes with Siva knew she wasn’t ready to get married and settle down.
Mel rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t have happened to notice anyone going into my tent last night?”
“Nah,” the boy said, then frowned. “Someone went in there?”
Mel nodded.
“Hmm. You can ask Bobby. He’s been on watch at the other end all night.”
Mel would do that—but right now, nature called. Muttering a thanks, she continued on toward the bathroom facilities.
When she’d first seen the setup, she’d been both surprised and pleased. Tío Luce had apparently decided not to have a repeat of last year’s Agora. Instead of porta-potties and flimsy outdoor showers, there were actual trailers with indoor facilities and AC. And plenty of them—easily enough to handle capacity, as long as everyone followed their designated shower times. The area even had enough lighting that Mel wouldn’t need her flashlight. She approved of the cleanliness—although she knew it wouldn’t hold up for two weeks.
Mel decided there was no harm in showering early—there was no one here—and as she washed the grime off from the day before, she was relieved that her grandmother’s paste protected her stitches from the spray. By the time she was clean and dressed, there were some stirrings in the camp, and a few other people were using the facilities. Mel mumbled good morning to those she came across as she made her way back to the tents.
She went to look for Bobby, but his shift must’ve ended, because now Hadley, a young blond teen, was sitting at the table. Mel knew of the girl, but had spoken to her only while training Advanced.
“Good morning, Hadley. Do you know when Bobby will be on watch again?”
“I’m not sure. Let me check the schedule.” Hadley picked up a binder from the ground.
“That’s a nice place to keep it,” Mel said with a smile.
“We’re very big on security here,” Hadley joked. She flipped open the binder. “Bobby’s got Tuesday’s watch from midnight to six a.m.”
“Damn, that sucks.”
Hadley gave Mel a wide-toothed grin. “I wonder who he pissed off.”
Usually the Advanced and Intermediates who were assigned a watch shift were given only one overnight per week, since there were usually enough of them to spread it out equally. But every so often, someone was given more… usually as punishment. Bobby must have gotten on someone’s bad side.
“Thanks, Hadley.”
“No problem.”
Mel turned to move toward her sleeping quarters.
“Mel.”
Mel turned back. Hadley had stood, and she had a serious look on her young face.
“I stand with you. Assurgere.”
Mel raised her brows, than remembered Anton and his disrespectful stunt the night before.
“Assurgere,” she replied.
Hadley bowed formally, then Mel nodded and turned away.
The others were still asleep, so Mel sat quietly on her cot. Hadley’s odd display of solidarity had surprised her. Of course she knew her clan would support her—they always did. For years she hadn’t taken part in the games, and it was now widely accepted in Clan Kale. It was only from the other clans that Mel received resistance. But still, she hadn’t anticipated the formality in Hadley’s demeanor. Hadley treated Mel as Mel would treat… Grandma Mari. With a reverence and respect only a Sapienti received. Mel hoped Hadley was just being overzealous, and that Mel wouldn’t encounter the same from others. But honor was a strange thing sometimes, and it brought out the old customs quicker than a grass fire burns in dry heat.
Another thing that burned quick was Mel’s anger toward Anton. How dare he touch her sash! And how dare he lie about it afterward, trying to make her out as a drama queen and a liar. Mel couldn’t think of the last time she had been so angry at someone. Well, someone who’s name doesn’t end with O’Shea. It was so sudden too, this open contempt. Anton had never been friendly with her, but he had never been so openly disdainful.
“What did I ever do to him?”
“What did you do to who?” asked Grandma Mari, stirring from her cot.
“Sorry. Just speaking out loud,” Mel said.
“Are you thinking about Anton?” Grandma Mari lit a small gas lamp.
“Just a bit,” Mel conceded.
“That man has no honor. No class. Does he think he can get away with such a great offense? I’ve never witnessed such a crime in all my life. I don’t think it’s even been done in centuries.” Grandma Mari shook her head in disgust. “Today, he will get his due.”
“The last person who was punished for touching another person’s sash was Agnes Sullivan,” Mel said.
“Yes, the bitch.”
That got a laugh out of Mel. Agnes Sullivan had tried to steal Mel’s great-great-great-grandfather, Javier Mendez, away from her great-great-great-grandmother, Magdalena Mendez. Javier wasn’t interested, which infuriated Agnes to such a degree that she decided to have it out with Magdalena, even though Magdalena was pregnant at the time. Agnes knew she would lose honor if she openly attacked a pregnant woman, so instead she touched Magdalena’s sash, thinking
it would infuriate her so much she would strike Agnes first. Agnes’s toad brain had rationalized, without much forethought, that if she wasn’t the first to attack, then her honor would stay intact, never mind that Agnes would be bringing this about by committing a great offense.
But Magdalena had six sisters who were all tired of Agnes’s open plays on their sister’s husband. When they saw Agnes touch Magdalena’s sash, all seven decided to show Agnes how deeply they disapproved of her actions. As a result, Agnes was… indisposed for the better part of a year after that—or so Mel had been told by Grandma Mari. The clans had deemed the punishment worthy for the offense, and the committee concocted a story for the authorities so there was no blowback for the descendants or the Agora.
Grandma Mari grabbed her own shower caddy and headed out. Almost the second she left, a tiny fist punched through the tent flap and a group of children poured through. They jumped right on Thrash, who grunted with a befuddled look on his face. These were the children from the night before, sans the Kale kids, and all were chirping in high-pitched voices for Thrash to help them through their sword forms. Mel couldn’t help but laugh as a half-asleep Thrash was lured out into the dark morning.
“Uh, it’s way too early for that mess,” mumbled Charlotte from her cot.
Mel walked over, sat on her cousin’s back, and bounced. “Get up, Charlotte. I want breakfast!”
“Dammit, Mel!”
“I want pancakes! I want bacon! I want eggs!”
“Get off!”
“Fine, fine, fine. But I really do want breakfast, so if you want to come with me, you’d better get a move on.”
Charlotte sat up and stretched. “I think you popped my back.” She grabbed her shower caddy and a change of clothes. “Feels nice.”
Mel snorted and swatted Charlotte’s rear as she walked past.
****
Forty minutes later, the two were in line for pancakes and eggs. Mel was a bit put out that the line was so long, and she kept looking at Charlotte with accusing eyes, which Charlotte blithely ignored, as she chatted happily about school, Lubbock, her friends, and mostly Jonah.
“He’s one of the smartest people I know, and he’s got such a good heart. Oh my God, Mel, three months ago I had the worst food poisoning—I couldn’t keep anything down—and he took care of me and he made me soup. That’s what I love about him—he treats me so well! I’ve never had a guy treat me this well before. And he’s soooo sexy. Don’t you think he’s sexy?”
