I gave him a disbelieving look. “You can’t be serious?”
“You let Payne walk right over you. You threw weak punches, put up a sorry defense, and never once analyzed the situation.”
“That was the best I could do,” I said, my voice shaky with anger.
“I know you can do better.” Coach turned from me. “Caden!” he called, beckoning him over. “I’m personally putting you in charge of making sure Ember practices sparring every day for the next month. Thirty minutes at least. Don’t let her get away with anything less—I’ll be grading you both on how well she does at the end of the term.”
Fantastic. I was beginning to learn that catching Coach’s attention was never a good thing.
Caden groaned. “Seriously Coach? We both saw her. It would take a miracle for her to be ready by the end of term.”
“Hey!” I said, indignant. He’d spent the last twenty minutes before my match reassuring me I’d be fine.
“Then I guess you better train Ember extra hard,” Coach Painter said, glancing over at me before continuing. “She’s going to need to be combat ready a couple weeks from now.”
Caden’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Are they going to send her in that soon?”
One of the students in the ring went down and our conversation halted until the next round began.
“Her and the rest of your class,” Coach said. “They’re going to send in all teleporters of legal age soon.” Coach’s eye twitched, making me think that he was not okay with the decision.
“But that’s crazy!” Caden exploded.
Coach Painter lowered his voice. “This is not a discussion for class, and it is not a decision to openly question. The order came directly from Richards.”
For a moment I couldn’t place the name. And then it clicked—Dane Richards. He was the hard-looking man I met at my house the day I left, the figurehead of the project.
“But she’ll die if they put her in without proper training!” Caden continued.
Alarmed, my head snapped up.
Coach’s gaze flicked to me before he responded. “Yes, she will.”
Chapter 12
After dinner that evening, Caden hauled me back to the now-empty gym. I dragged my feet, my body achy from two days of intense work.
“Do we have to do this?” I pleaded with him.
He flipped on the gym’s lights. They flickered into existence, dim at first but brightening with every passing second. “Yes, we do.”
I grumbled. I could barely keep my eyes open, and I’d have to teleport before I finally got to rest.
Caden grabbed the equipment as I padded over to the ring, my feet squishing into the foam mat beneath me. He’d been moody and possessive since Coach Painter had told him that the project was planning on sending me on missions.
When he came back over, he handed me gloves and the soft helmet. “Trust me, you’re going to want to learn as much as you can before we get sent out. I won’t always be able to protect you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I never asked you to protect me. Despite what you think, I can take care of myself.”
Caden stepped into my personal space, and my breath hiked up at his nearness. “It’s easier to die than it is to live on these missions. I don’t have the luxury of trusting your word.”
He gave me that look. The one that made me think I meant something to him.
I pushed him away from me. “How do you think I survived for the last five years?”
“I don’t care how you spent the last five years,” he said, “I care how you’re going to spend the next five. And I’d prefer you to not be rotting in a coffin somewhere.”
“Fuck you,” I said, but I bent to put on the gloves and the helmet. He’d made his point. I didn’t want to die either. I just hated being underestimated.
I heard him suck in air as I did so.
I straightened up. “What?” I said, my voice dripping with hostility.
“You have a tattoo.”
My tense muscles loosened as my frustration seeped away. He must’ve seen the edges of it peeking out of my tank top. “So?”
“I just didn’t peg you as the type.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “What was that you said about perceptions being deceiving?”
He smiled, his earlier hostility ebbing away. “Ouch.” He drew closer, and studied my tattoo. “What is it?”
“It’s part of a wing,” I said, not elaborating and not offering to show him the whole thing.
I felt Caden’s finger touch it, my skin suddenly hyperaware of him. He ran his finger over the tattoo. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Your skin here isn’t smooth.”
“What?” When did that happen? I ran my hand over my shoulder blade where I knew the tattoo was.
Damnit, Caden was right; I could feel the raised veins where the original warped lines had appeared a week ago. They’d refused to disappear.
Caden stared at them, absentmindedly rubbing his neck.
“Is that your imprint?” he asked.
“My what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
I could tell by the casual way he discarded the topic that there was more to it. Much more.
I guess I wasn’t the only one who kept secrets.
I gloved up and faced off Caden.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s just start with a practice round.”
“I think we’ve established that I suck at this,” I said.
“I’ll walk you through it this first time.”
“Great.”
“Let’s begin.”
I tapped his glove, and for the second time today I found myself sparring.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot and watched Caden, who waited for me to make the first move. His hazel eyes glittered mischievously, making it hard to focus on fighting.
“Don’t just stand there unless that’s part of your strategy. Hesitation is lethal.” He grinned, somehow knowing the direction of my thoughts. The urge to wipe that smile off his face overwhelmed me.
I moved in on him and brought my leg around, aiming for his chest. He caught it between his gloved hands.
“Whoa, why’d you never try this on Desiree?”
“I don’t know what sparring is. How was I supposed to know if I could kick the hellspawn?” That wasn’t my real reason for holding back though. I’d seen Caden and Eric kick each other, so I knew kicks were fine. No, it was that I still wasn’t comfortable with casual violence. Although Caden made it awfully tempting.
“Hellspawn?” Caden’s lip twitched.
“Let. My. Leg. Go.”
“I don’t think so.” Caden eyed me. “I kind of like the view.”
I huffed and, using my other foot, planted a kick to his chest.
Caden grunted but managed to capture my other foot.
The room blurred into shades of white and gray as I fell. I hit the foam mat, and my breath whooshed out of me.
Above me a halo of golden hair appeared. And then those dimples. Caden looked down on me, still holding my legs. “Now I’m really starting to enjoy the view.”
I huffed and twisted my legs out of his grasp.
He knelt next to me, propping his arm next to my head. “Remember to control your anger,” he said. “You’re fighting emotionally. It’s predictable.”
His statement renewed my determination.
I turned my head and studied the tan arm braced next to me. Sinewy muscles bulged against his skin. For a moment, I was fascinated that something as simple as an arm could look so alluring.
I ran my hand along it and Caden stilled. My eyes darted to his face. His eyebrows furrowed, conf
used, and a spark of something passed through them. I let my eyes drift down until they focused solely on his lips.
I glanced back up at his eyes, and noticed he was no longer confused. Instead they’d gained an intensity to them.
I wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his head towards me, focusing on the way his chest crept closer to mine.
Just as our lips almost closed the distance, I brought my knees up to my chest. At the last minute I pushed my feet against his torso and flipped him over me.
Now it was my turn to kneel in front of him. “Remember not to fight emotionally—it’s predictable.”
“Jesus. It was worth it,” Caden said, looking dazed and pleased. “Who are you?”
We practiced for two hours. By the time we finished, sweat soaked my clothes and I thought my arms might fall off. Caden beat me—over and over again—but he’d also taught me a handful of offensive and defensive moves.
I leaned against the wall of the gym, catching my breath, as Caden packed up our gear and turned off the lights.
He sauntered over to me, and I couldn’t help but notice how fluid his movements were.
God he’s sexy. No wonder he was a little shit all the time. With a face and body like his, he could get away with just about anything.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Just give me a moment.” Reluctantly I peeled myself away from the wall. I moaned. Every muscle ached. I thought today hurt—just wait until tomorrow.
“You okay?”
“Other than movement being painful, yeah.”
“Need help in the shower?”
I whacked him on the shoulder.
“Ow—hey! I thought movement was painful.”
I ignored the comment, and we left the gym together. For the first time since I arrived, I truly felt relaxed. Not content—I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel that way here—but at least relaxed.
“Let’s meet up for this again tomorrow afternoon,” Caden said as we made our way back to the dormitory. “Does four o’clock work?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to make a face. Sparring and I were not amigos. But until I figured out a way to escape this place, I might as well learn how to fight. I just might need it.
Caden walked me to my room. The silence was comfortable, but my mind whirred away. “Hey Caden?” I finally said.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking the time to teach me to spar.” Although I didn’t much care for hand-to-hand combat, I meant every word I said. He was using his free time to help me out.
“Of course. You’re my pair.” The way he said pair sent a shiver up my back. As if we were more than just teammates.
“What does that even mean?” I asked, thinking about the strange pairings of students I noticed earlier today.
Caden shrugged, but his posture was stiff. He knew more than he was letting on.
“It’s just the way the program is structured,” he said.
I eyed him as he gave me a sidelong glance. “If the Prometheus Project wanted us in pairs, then why are there singles?”
Caden was quiet for a long time, and then he finally spoke.
“Their pairs are either missing … or dead.”
Chapter 13
I found myself in a dark, unfamiliar house.
Strange. I could’ve sworn I fell asleep thinking about my parents.
I moved through the house, rubbing my arms. Judging by the way my breath misted in front of me and the stark, standardized furniture, my guess was that no one currently lived here. I slipped into the master bedroom just to make sure I was right.
The empty bed confirmed my guess. I moved through the house. Two stories, three bedrooms.
I glanced out the window of one of the second-story bedrooms. Silhouettes of evergreen trees darkened the night sky.
Since I’d arrived at the facility, this trip felt the most like my normal nightly trips. That didn’t mean that the project hadn’t sent me here.
My clothes looked like something I’d normally wear. I snaked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. No cryptic messages rested inside them. I ran my hands through my hair, checked the shoes I wore.
No note. Nothing.
Strange. I couldn’t figure out how much control the project exerted over my nightly destinations. I was pretty sure my visits to Adrian were not set up by the project—and this trip seemed to be straight out of my own imagination—but I could be wrong. After all, I thought I’d fallen asleep thinking of my parents.
I walked to the kitchen, flipped on the light switch, turned out the drawers until I found what I was looking for. I opened up a folded map.
It was a state map of Montana. So that’s where I was.
I went back upstairs and checked out the rest of the rooms. The master suite I’d already seen, so I peeked into one of the other rooms. This one had a twin bed covered in a pastel pink comforter. A single stuffed animal had been placed near the headboard. A young girl’s room.
I crossed the hall into the other room. It was set up like an office, but it had no computer and no papers sitting out.
Furnished, but empty. Leaving the room, I went into the living room and laid on the couch. I rubbed my lower lip, thinking.
If the government sent me here, then why? And if they didn’t, then why wasn’t I at my parents’ house?
They were questions I didn’t yet have answers for.
“Morning, princess.” Caden slid into the desk next to me.
“Go away—and stop calling me that.” Thanks to my strange schedule, I was about to start my first etiquette class. Yuck.
“My, my, isn’t someone grumpy,” he said, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper.
“I hate morning people,” I grumbled. A stream of impeccably dressed, beautiful people funneled into the room. I frowned. Morning people.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed.” Caden said.
“Unless you have an industrial strength painkiller, you don’t want to be around me right now.”
“Sore?”
“What do you think?” I shot him a withering look.
“Morning, class,” said our instructor, Miss Elba by the looks of the loopy signature scrawled on the board. She had to be middle aged, but at first glance you wouldn’t know it. She was trendier than most of my classmates.
She walked down an aisle, her blue dress fitting her like a glove. Nearly two dozen sets of male eyes followed her. She glanced to either side of her and hummed affirmative noises as she passed.
It was only as she walked by my desk that she paused. Crimson nails drummed along the fake wood surface in front of me.
“New girl,” she said, “what’s your name?”
“Uh, Ember.”
“Hi Uh Ember. Straighten your posture, throw your shoulders back, lift your chin, and—before you do any of these things—” she eyed my stretchy pants and T-shirt, “go change into something halfway decent.” From across the room I heard Desiree snicker.
I felt my jaw slacken. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh honey, I am.”
So this was Etiquette. Essentially a place to pretend like good breeding still mattered. I would be happy to miss it. I slid my notebook back into my bag and stood up.
Next to me I heard a chair scrape back.
“Caden,” Miss Elba’s voice warned.
I caught his eyes and saw his hesitation before he reluctantly sat back down. It was strange to see someone so confident, so seemingly dangerous, take orders from someone else. But that’s what he’d been doing the whole time he’d been here I guess.
Still, there was something significant about his inaction, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was that troubled me. After all, this had nothing to do with
him.
“Make sure to come right back.”
“Yeah right,” I muttered.
“What was that?” she said.
“Nothing,” I gazed innocently at her, “just agreeing with you.”
I spent the next hour streaming a TV show on my laptop and painting my fingers and toes robin’s egg blue. If she wanted me to look nice, I’d waste the entire class period trying to meet her expectations.
I glanced at the clock on my computer.
Damn. I only had five minutes left before class got out. I threw on a fitted dress and a pair of heels. Then I rummaged through my makeup bag, swiped some mascara on and ran some lip gloss over my lips. All ready to go.
My etiquette class streamed into the hall when I walked back towards the classroom. Whoops. My bad.
Someone in the crowd whistled at me, and I self-consciously smoothed my dress.
Miss Elba was jotting something down when I entered. She stood up from behind her desk and appraised me over her reading glasses. “Ah, Ember, I see you decided to show up after all.”
“Just making sure I look decent.”
She took off her glasses, the movement making her loose curls shimmer under the florescent lights. “You think this is a game?” she asked, tilting her head. “That you’re here to have fun?” An edge crept into her voice.
“No,” I said. “I’m here because I have no choice. There’s nothing fun about it.”
She sighed. “Listen Ember, I didn’t publicly humiliate you because I enjoy hurting people.”
Oh really?
She could tell I wasn’t convinced. “You need to take this seriously,” she continued. “The government will be placing you in very dangerous situations. You must stand out for the right reasons—not the wrong ones. If you do not know how to conduct yourself professionally in these high stress situations, you will get someone killed—and that someone could be you.”
Later that afternoon I skipped training with Caden and instead laced up my running shoes. I had a lot of righteous indignation to burn, and I knew no better way of releasing it than going on a run. I had another reason as well; I wanted to check out the facility’s perimeter.
The Vanishing Girl Page 8
