Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1)

by Laura Stephens

  She holds a basket of still steaming bread out to us. I hesitate for only a moment and then my mouth starts to water and my stomach growls. I grab three of the biscuits before Emmy snags the rest of the basket for herself. Tessa simply smirks. “This is a lot for you girls to handle. It’ll take time for you to understand everything and even longer for you to accept it. There is absolutely no rush to do either of those things.”

  “I don’t have a power,” Emmy admits after swallowing down her bite of bread. “Is that normal?”

  “Yes and no,” Tessa admits. “We are all born with one ability and a specific amount of power that we call energy. It is the fuel that allows us to use our magic. However, fuel can run out. When it does, our ability can become lost to us forever. Those who have no ability are usually those who abused their magic and allowed their energy to dwindle to nothing.”

  “I never had a power though.”

  “I didn’t either until a few days ago, Em,” I say to her. “Maybe yours just hasn’t shown itself yet.” By the look in her eyes, she isn’t upset for not having one. I think it’s more of the confusion as to why she doesn’t that is bothering her.

  She takes another bite of a biscuit, chewing slowly. “Maddox assigned me to the Alchemists. I start tomorrow.”

  Tessa lifts the lid to the pot on the stove, stirring the contents within. The aroma hits me, and my stomach makes it obvious that the bread isn’t going to be enough. “Alchemists are underappreciated but are some of the most important people of Pensatore.”

  “What do they do?”

  “They create potions for different things. They are creators and scientists and they allow this settlement to function the way that it does. Without them, I don’t know where we would be.”

  Emmy’s shoulders square and she sits up just a bit straighter. “That doesn’t sound too bad does it, Vi?”

  I shake my head, happy that she thinks it might be something that she will enjoy. I have a gut wrenching feeling that that will not be true when it comes to my own training.

  “And you?” Tessa asks, shaking me from my thoughts. “What is Maddox having you do?”

  I bite at the inside of my cheek. “Train.”

  “She’s going to be working with Lincoln,” Emmy clarifies for me. “He’s supposed to teach her how to use her magic and swords and stuff.”

  Curiosity sparks on Tessa’s face. “What kind of magic do you have?”

  “Lightning.”

  She’s saved from responding as the door opens and two men walk into the kitchen – Lincoln and a young boy who looks to be no older than 19 or 20. He has curly black hair that almost looks blue and deep dimples in his cheeks. He seems rather fit for his age and far shorter than Lincoln.

  “This is Damon,” Lincoln announces to the room. “He will be responsible for watching the two of you. When you are with me Violet, he will be with Emmy.”

  I jump from the stool and race towards him. “Watching us? No. We aren’t children.”

  Lincoln glares down at me as Damon maneuvers around the two of us. I can hear him introducing himself to Emmy.

  “I’m not asking. Maddox is worried about you and your sister’s safety. Until you can show me that you are capable of protecting yourselves, you will have a guard with you at all times. That guard is Damon.”

  With a glance behind me at Damon, I snarl. “He’s 12! How well do you think that kid can protect us?” Maddox made it sound as though these murders weren’t that big of a deal. Dangerous and deserving of caution, yes. But not so bad that we should fear walking down the street.

  “He is fully capable. Once again, I’m not asking.” As though the discussion is done, Lincoln walks towards the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets like he lives here. He pulls a stack of porcelain bowls from an overhead cabinet, sitting them down next to the pot.

  The front door slams closed again. This time Ben enters the kitchen. The small space is starting to get really warm and claustrophobic with all the bodies. “Riley will be here in an hour to take the girls to their house,” Ben says to Lincoln.

  “Food’s done!” Tessa declares over all the conversations taking place in the room.

  We all eat in silence. Other than the sound of spoons scraping along the bottom of the bowls and the slurping the brothers make while eating, it’s utterly silent and awkward. Five minutes pass after we’ve finished – some of the slowest minutes of my life – when Lincoln’s chair squeaks against the stone and he stands up. “A word, Violet?”

  I follow him through the kitchen and out the back door of the house. The small yard is glittering in the setting sunlight as night begins to fall. “Damon will escort you to the training fields at dawn tomorrow. I’ll have appropriate attire sent to you before then. I expect you to dress accordingly and be ready for a long day.” Dawn? He can’t be serious. “What happened to your neck?” he asks without a shred of pity in his voice.

  I noticed it earlier today as well. That when that Watcher guy healed me, the wound from Stanley hadn’t gone way. Well, at least not fully. I haven’t had the opportunity to see it yet, but just by touching it, it seems to be nothing more than a scar now. “It happened a few days ago. During one of the attacks I told you about. Speaking of, what happened to that guy that we told you was locked in the bathroom?”

  Lincoln shrugs. “The Watcher said that no one was in the bathroom. Why?”

  I sigh and give my eyes a hefty rub. “It was the same person.”

  “Riley will be here soon.” He widens his stance but doesn’t make a move to head back inside. “The reason the injury didn’t heal like Emmy’s did is because it’s not a normal scar. It’s what we call a marker. Markers hold the associated memories within them and can be seen or viewed by a recall.”

  I cross my arms. “And what the hell is a recall?”

  “It’s an uncommon ability of Pensatore. One of my abilities, to be exact.”

  One of his abilities? “Let me guess, you want to go rummaging around in my head?”

  “It has nothing to do with your head. The memory itself is in the marker. I’ll be able to see the person who is after you. I’ll be able to put a face to him. But only if you let me see it.”

  “What happens? What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing,” he answers. “You don’t have to do anything. I will simply touch it and I will be able to see the event as you lived it, feel the emotions you felt. It won’t cause you any harm. Once the memory is completed, I will start to convulse and my nose will bleed for a few minutes and then it’s over.”

  Having someone use their powers to save me is one thing, having them use it on me simply because they can is an entirely different issue. “No.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, shifting from one foot to the other. “And why is that?”

  “Because I said no. I don’t feel comfortable with it.”

  The back door to the house creaks open, Tessa’s head squeezing through the opening. “Riley is here.”

  I step towards the house and Lincoln moves to block my path. “We’ll address this again later. Be ready for training by dawn.”

  With a hefty step to the side, I bypass him. Dawn my ass. That is so not going to be happening. As though reading my thoughts, Lincoln shouts the time at me once more before I close the door behind me. A part of me considers locking him out there but another newcomer draws my attention away before I have time to twist the knob.

  “You must be Violet,” she says to me. She doesn’t bother to hold out her hand to me like Ben had done, but it doesn’t bother me at all. “I’m Riley, the Director of Public Relations for Pensatore.”

  As far as I can tell, the woman is in her 40s. She has graying blonde hair and deep crow’s feet lining her eyes. There is so much make-up on her face that every dip and crevice is even more noticeable. Her cheekbones are high and sharp, highlighted with a bright pink blush. I immediately dislike her and the fake smile she has plastered on her face. In the woman’s def
ense, there are very few people that I do like.

  Instead of responding to her, I choose the lesser of two evils and rush back outside without a word. Lincoln is still standing exactly where I left him, almost like he was expecting me to come back out.

  “Fine,” I say to him.

  His lips twitch but he refuses to let them curl into an actual smile. “Sit.” He waves toward a small set of metal chairs and a table sitting at the base of a large tree. Once I’m in the chair, he kneels down in front of me, wedging his torso between my knees. I almost berate him but there is something soothing about him being this close to me. His right hand reaches up and I wince as his thumb rests on the right side of my neck and his fingers gently curl around my throat. His eyes start to cloud, the blue of his eyes getting lost in a sea of white. I know his touch isn’t meant to be intimate, but it still sparks something inside of me that I wish it didn’t.

  Blood starts to trickle from his nose, eyes, and ears. His grip on my neck releases as he collapses to the ground. His body turns rigid seconds before he begins to convulse. I don’t even shimmy out of the chair. He warned me this would happen. If he needed any help getting through it, he would have mentioned it.

  His eyes shoot open and his lips part as he gasps a lungful of air. He pulls at the extra material of his hood and uses it to wipe away the drying blood from his face. He rolls over onto his back, staring up at the faint stars hidden behind the dark wisps in the sky. After a few minutes he leans up, his legs stretched in front of him. “You puked on him. Really?”

  I can’t tell if he’s appreciative of my scrappiness or making fun of me for it. “I didn’t intentionally puke on him. It just happened. Why does it matter anyway? I won, didn’t I?”

  “Won due to sheer luck. Not much better than striking a man in the back while he’s walking away. Pensatore members don’t fight in such a way. It’s demeaning. We’ll be working on that as well during the coming days.”

  Is he kidding me right now? “Really! He was choking me and searing my skin off! Not exactly the same thing as hitting a man in the back while he’s walking away. Stanley wasn’t walking away!”

  “You will learn how to fight correctly, Violet.” There is no room for argument in his tone, but I don’t have any intention of arguing with him.

  For the second time, I leave him outside alone. And this time, I do lock him out.

  I walk up to Riley who has successfully smeared bright red lipstick all along her front teeth. “What are you here for?” Lincoln successfully pissed me off, which I am officially taking out on her.

  “Housing,” Riley answers flatly.

  “Fine. Take us wherever we need to go then.”

  Her black eyes narrow but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns on her two inch heels and struts to the front door with Emmy, Damon, and I in her wake. After walking a street over, she finally opens her mouth. “I have a few houses that are currently unoccupied.”

  “The cheapest you have will be fine,” Emmy says, making a valid point, a point that I hadn’t yet considered. How the hell are we expected to pay for this? I have twenty bucks in my pocket and I don’t think that there are banks around here that are willing to swap out my currency for theirs.

  “Lincoln advised that the housing is covered for now. He said to put them in the guards’ housing,” Damon states.

  “Why is the Commander paying for their housing?” she asks him. By the way she says it and the look in her eye, it’s clear that this is not standard practice.

  “Didn’t ask,” Damon responds. “Best that you take that up with him.”

  Two more streets over and halfway up the block, Riley stops in front of one of the houses. It has the same exterior as all the others. At three stories high, it’s narrow and reminds me of a row house. It takes my full body weight to keep the door from crushing me with its own weight as I push it open.

  Inside is a small and quaint living area with more of those lanterns – the ones that were in the castle – hanging from the walls. While furnished, it’s with the bare minimum and nowhere near as stylish as Tessa and Ben’s home. Emmy and I explore the place but there’s not much for us to see. There are two identical bedrooms and bathrooms; one on the second floor and the other on the third. I claim the second because I hate stairs. Emmy gladly takes the top level.

  I find blankets folded neatly in the wardrobe in the corner of the room and as I start to make the twin size bed, there’s a creak just outside of my door.

  “Is this suitable for the two of you or would you prefer another?” Riley asks as she invites herself into what is now my bedroom.

  “It’s fine.” I continue putting the sheets on the mattress, trying my best to ignore her presence.

  “Okay, well, good. I’ll have your personal effects brought here for you both then.”

  “We have no personal items. We were forced to leave them behind.” I’m not sure why I just told her that, but I instantly regret it.

  “I see. Well, I’m sure that Lincoln is tending to that as well.” Her tone makes her seem almost jealous. Perhaps she doesn’t understand why he would be going to so much trouble for two strangers. Why is he going to so much trouble anyway? What are we to him exactly? “Why are you working with Lincoln? He doesn’t train anyone anymore. It’s below his station.”

  I stop fumbling with the pillow cases and look over at her. “Who told you that?”

  “Your sister.” She takes a step toward me with what seems like a poor attempt at intimidation. “She also told me that you are a lightning elemental. You should be with your own people. You don’t belong here.”

  Who is this woman? “That’s not my decision to make.”

  She takes another step towards me. “Once people find out what you are, you will be in danger. You should leave now before they start hunting you down.” She spins on her heels, giving me a sing-song goodbye before leaving the room.

  I wait until I hear her footsteps on the stairs before releasing a long breath. What the hell did she mean by that?

  7

  “Violet! Get up now!” Lincoln bellows through my closed door. “Don’t make me come in there!” This time his demands are followed with three hard pounds on the door. I bury my head under my single pillow, praying that if I don’t make a noise he will go away. The door slams open.

  In a normal situation I would have jumped up and started throwing things at him for waking me up. But this isn’t a normal situation. The last few days have been hard. Between being attacked at every turn and being zipped to some magical world of magic, I haven’t slept in forever. Even last night after Riley left, Emmy came in and started talking.

  She wasn’t scared to be here, more like excited. She was curious about everyone and everything in this settlement. She wanted to know about the world and the history and the powers. I could care less about any of it, but I feigned interest until the wee hours of the night until she finally went back to her room and let me sleep.

  I pull the blanket up over my head, doing my best to ignore the man whose anger is seeping from his pores in thick waves through the room.

  “Get out of bed. NOW. You were supposed to meet me at dawn. You’re late.” He throws something on top of me, but I refuse to uncover my face to see what it is. “Get dressed.”

  “Go away,” I groan. Did he expect me to get up and meet him in the middle of the night? Who trains when it’s still dark outside anyway?

  “Every minute that goes by with you not in the field to train is another mile added to your morning run. Your choice.” He gives me an evil look before slamming the door behind him.

  Did he say run? Did he say morning run? An extra mile added … to a run? The thin blanket slowly drifts through the air as it sinks to the floor. I find black leather pants and a matching jacket on my bed – what he threw at me, I’m assuming. I shove my feet through the legs of the pants and immediately know that they are far too small for me. “Emmy!” This is going to be a two-person job. Emmy r
aces into the room, searching for the source of my panic.

  “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?” I ask her through gritted teeth as I struggle to get the tight fitted leather over my curves. Emmy finally catches on to my distress signal and assists me in my time of need, struggling to latch the silver buckles around my chest. Whoever made this thing is definitely a male chauvinistic pig – one who hates breasts and women who breathe.

  “I was going to wake you up,” Emmy whines. “But Damon said he would take care of it. Next thing I know, I hear Damon yelp, come running down the stairs and declare you won the battle. He was too scared to let me try to wake you after that. He said I couldn’t be injured on his watch. Then boom! Lincoln’s pounding on your door like the police. Now jump.”

  I start jumping up and down, hoping that the force of my weight will move these leather pants even an inch up my thighs. “Hurry, Emmy. He’s adding miles to my run for each minute I’m late.”