by Raye Wagner
“You said I had to get along with everyone.” She didn’t have the best social skills, but she knew hitting wasn’t considered good manners.
“I’m not sure he counts. Like I said, tosser.”
His English was spotted with an occasional slang term wholly unfamiliar. “What’s tosser mean?”
Xan laughed. It was so unexpected that a small droplet of spit flew out of his mouth. He reached out to stop it from hitting her. “Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “Tosser. It means unpleasant.”
Unpleasant. And a jerk. She might just hate him.
“LET’S DO TARGET DRILLS for warm-ups. I know you have energy to get out, but I’d like to see your technique before we spar. I need to be able to fill the gaps, lessen your weakness. We don’t want Skia to kill you, right?” Xan pulled on hand “mitt” targets and held them out stacked one above the other. “Start with kicks.” He shook the targets. “Let me know if you want these lowered.”
She pushed his hands up to her head level. “I got good kicks.” She pulled her right knee into her chest, her heel coming up to her hip. With slow control she extended her heel until it touched the mitt, and then held it there.
“Ah, but can you put some force behind it, lass?” Xan pushed back with the thick pads.
Game on.
Xan ran her through front kicks, then round, side, crescent, hook, and twist kicks. Then, using both mitts, he pushed her on combination kicks, then combination kicks and punches.
Hope wiped sweat from her face, and Xan threw the pads to the ground.
“You’ve got the basics down. Come on. Let’s get sparring gear on and see how you do when it matters.” He grabbed a black mesh bag from a bench near the door.
“Um, I don’t have sparring gear.”
He threw her the bag.
“I tried to guess your size. See what fits. We can change out what we need to.” He grabbed another bag from a hook on the wall.
Dahlia walked in wearing shorts and a tank top. Her dark curls were pulled into a high ponytail. “Here’s your mouth guard, Hope. Put it in now, while it’s still hot.”
Hope took the blue rim, stuck it in her mouth, and then bit down. The warm plastic molded to her teeth. She then strapped on the rest of her gear.
Xan stood in the middle of the mats and motioned for her to join him.
“Dahl, you can ref for us. Hope, I’ll only hit you as hard as you hit me. You’ll be setting the pace here.”
“All right.” Hope’s stomach churned, and her hands dampened with clammy nervousness.
“Fighting stance!” Dahlia’s voice was sharp.
Both Xan and Hope shifted their weight with their stances.
“Go!”
Hope circled Xan, measuring his steps, waiting for him to advance. She watched him, waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting.
After several seconds, Xan took out his mouth guard. “Come on. I know what I can do.” He waved her to him. “I need to see what you can do.”
Hope took a deep breath and advanced. She threw a front-round kick combination, and Xan deftly stepped to the side. The next several moves were just as awkward, and Xan’s ability to anticipate her strikes ate at her confidence. When her butterfly kick met nothing but air, she growled and backed away.
“Stop!” Xan called. “You’re spending too much time in your head. You need to relax. Remember, this is for fun. Stop thinking. Stop holding back. Show me what you can do.” He put his mouth guard back in. “Let’s go.”
Pushing away her worry, she thought of Endy taking her sandwich. The desire to strike surfaced, and Hope moved forward.
How many times could she surprise him? How many times could she make contact with his gear? Hope threw a six-technique combination and then pulled back before Xan could counter. When he attacked, she counted the number of techniques he threw. Again and again. He always threw eight techniques. One, two, three, four, five . . . six, seven, eight. There was a slight hesitation. This was it. She’d found her counter time. On the next exchange, she exploited it. He came in for one, two, three, four, five. . . She scooted in, swept her leg up to block his jab, and then twisted to kick him in the helmet.
Xan straightened, and he shook his head once as if to clear it. A grin stretched across his face. “Nice.”
“Time!” Dahlia’s voice drew Hope’s focus away from Xan.
Hope had completely forgotten about Xan’s cousin.
“Bang on, Hope. Let’s get our face shields on and see what you can do with a spear.”
“A spear?”
“Yeah. Have you used one before?”
“Very little.”
“Good,” Dahlia interrupted. “I can play, too, then.” She raised her eyebrows at Xan.
“All right,” he answered her unasked question.
“We’ll be a team, Hope. We’ll knock him on his arse.” Dahlia strapped on her gear as she spoke.
Hope took the offered wooden staff. The tip was covered in soft foam. Unsure of how to wield it, she swung it around a few times. She felt like a poser. Refusing to wallow in insecurity, she studied Xan, how he moved as he spun his staff, striking the air and ground with fierceness. Dahlia stood across from Xan and swung her weapon with precision. Hope watched and then tried to mimic the others’ technique.
“All right, girls. Let’s do this.” Xan motioned for Hope and Dahlia to advance.
HOPE WAS SO SORE IT hurt to breathe; it hurt to think. She hauled herself up to her room, leaning against the wall for support.
“When you’re done with your shower, we can get dinner,” Xan said, pulling her up the last few stairs.
I can’t even lift a fork to my mouth.
Hope hobbled through the door and stared longingly at her bed. Her clothes were soaked with sweat, her hair stuck to her neck, and she must have smelled fierce. But all she wanted was to collapse on the ugly bed. She kicked off her shoes on the way to the bathroom. She stood in the doorway and contemplated the tub and the shower. Two more steps, then she sat on the toilet lid, willing herself to find the energy to bathe.
A knock at the door startled her. She’d fallen asleep on the toilet?
“Come in!” she yelled, not wanting to have to move to get the door.
“You haven’t showered yet?” Xan’s warm laugh drew closer. “Here’s your supper.” He held out a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with roasted broccoli on the side. “Can you lift your arms to eat?”
As soon as the aroma of garlic and thyme hit her nose, Hope reached out greedily.
“I’ll manage.” She shoveled a bite of warm sauce and noodles into her mouth, groaning with pleasure.
Xan sat down on the edge of the tub and raised his eyebrows. “You did well today. I’ve never seen a demigod with such a strong foundation.”
She choked on her disbelief and coughed to clear it.
It was almost as if he understood. “Well, not this early in their training anyway.”
Hope continued to eat, but a warm blush crept over her cheeks.
Xan told her she would be having lessons independent of Endymion, Apollo’s son. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to be fightin’. Not right now.”
While she would like the opportunity to beat Endymion to a bloody pulp, she also understood it would do nothing for her to do so. “Fine by me.”
When she finished, Xan stood. “Your blood sugar should be up now. Take a quick shower and then jump in a tub with some Epsom salts.” He pulled a carton out from under the sink. “Then you best go to bed. Your body’s gonna need its rest to recover from today.” His eyes gleamed with pride.
“Thanks, Xan. For dinner, for the salts, and even for the . . . fights.” Ugh. That was not the right word! She waved her hand, and it flopped back and forth like a fish. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”
He laughed, a deep chuckle. “Aye.” He put his fist up to her chin and bumped it softly. “Now, you better hurry. Your body’s gonna call it quits in about fift
een minutes. You’ll want to be in the bath by then or you’ll miss out on your soak, and I promise, you don’t want to miss it.”
Hope had never taken a bath in salt water. “Why don’t I want to miss out on a salt bath?”
He cocked his head.
“If you don’t take a salt bath, you’ll be really sore tomorrow. You might even need an ice bath.” He leaned over and turned on the water.
Ice? Was he kidding? An ice bath sounded like torture. She could do this.
“Okay. Then get out. I’m not stripping down with you here.” She pointed at the door.
“All right.” His gazed darted from her to the shower, then back to her. “I’m leaving.”
“Good night, Xan,” she hollered out to him as he crossed her room.
“Sleep well.” His voice floated back to her, almost a promise that she would. And then the door clicked shut.
Hope stripped out of her damp clothes, rinsed off in the shower, and then slid into the warm bath.
THE NEXT MORNING, HOPE woke up surprised at the soreness that still permeated her body. Rolling over, she gasped at the tenderness. It hurt to breathe.
Even with the muted light, Hope could tell she had slept late. She quickly dressed, despite her protesting muscles, and went downstairs to the kitchen.
As she came toward the room, she could hear several distinct voices in the midst of a heated conversation. Her feet slowed as she listened.
“All I’m saying is I think we should all be included in her training. You’re not in charge of her, Xan.” It was a woman’s voice, her accent thick.
“I’m not saying you won’t be included, but I’m Hope’s mentor, so I’ll decide when her training starts.” Xan’s voice held the same authority as when he had commanded Briareus.
“Why isn’t Dahlia her mentor? She was there when you found her. Aren’t girls supposed to be partnered with other females?”
“Why are you pushing this, Obelia? Why do you care?”
“Who did you say her mother was? How do you even know she’s a demigod? And how come we haven’t gone through the formal questioning with her?” The blond boy, Apollo’s son, fired off questions in a caustic voice.
“Really, Endy? She had a small army of Skia following her for weeks. And if that isn’t enough, Athan actually found her while he was searching for that monster, the Sphinx.” There was a forced exhalation. “I would think you, Obelia, would understand the need for her to get adjusted, considering. And finally, Myrine said she’d be coming.” There was a brief silence, and then Xan continued, “Now, I’m done. We’ll get to the formal questioning. We always do.”
Concerned about the course of the conversation, the shock at the mention of Athan, Myrine, and the Sphinx, Hope debated going back to her room and packing her bags. But they didn’t know. They couldn’t. And she couldn’t quit now. The mention of Myrine jogged her memory. She had said don’t run away. With a deep breath, Hope steeled herself and walked through the doorway.
The conversation stopped. Xan, Obelia, and Endy stood in the middle of the kitchen. Another brunette girl sat at the table, her nose in a book, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening right in front of her.
Nerves raw, Hope said nothing as she crossed the kitchen. She pulled the fridge door open and let the cool air wash away some of the warmth staining her cheeks.
“Good morning, Hope,” Xan said, his breath on her neck.
She turned to address him and stepped back into the shelves on the door of the fridge.
“Why are you standing so close?” She grimaced, even as her heart jumped an unsteady rhythm.
He leaned forward and whispered, his lips brushing her ear, “How much did you hear? A lot?”
She nodded as a blush spread across her face. Why was he standing so close?
“Don’t worry. It will be fine.” He kissed her on the cheek, then continued in his hushed tone, “Let them think what they want.”
Her blush deepened.
“Umm, yeah, okay.” Had he just kissed her?
Xan finally stepped back. “What are you making? Can I help?”
Hope grabbed the first thing she saw. “Eggs?”
He took the eggs from her then grabbed a pan.
“If I help, can I have some?” He winked and twirled the pan.
“You two are disgusting.” Endy’s snide voice carried across the room. “Is that even allowed? Come on, Obelia.” He sauntered toward the door, the diminutive girl following right behind.
“Whatever, Endy. You don’t like the attention off of you”—Xan raised his head, his eyes lit with anger—“‘cause the sun rises and sets on you, eh wanker?”
Hope sucked in her breath.
In a streak of light, Endy was across the room and in Xan’s face. “What does that mean?”
While Endy was taller by a couple of inches, Xan was broader and a lot more muscular. And undoubtedly the better fighter.
Lips curled in disgust, Xan scrutinized the other demigod. “Exactly what I said, Sun-boy.” He poked the handle of the spatula at Endy. “And, unless you want me to focus my full attention on you, I suggest you shut your gob.”
Endy backed away a couple of steps. “I’m not afraid of you, Xan.”
“I should hope not. We’re all playing for the same team, right?” Xan glared at the eggs.
Hope stood rooted at the counter, watching the scene unfold, but when Xan returned to cooking, she forced her attention to grating cheese. She was in the middle of something, and this was bigger than she was. She kept her ears trained on the interaction.
“Uh, yeah. Same team.” Endy’s voice dripped sarcasm, but he backed up another couple of steps.
“Great. See you in an hour in the gym. In the meantime, don’t you have something else to do?”
Endy left the room without another word.
When he was gone, the girl with thick auburn hair spoke, “You shouldn’t provoke him, Xan. We were all a little sensitive when we first got here.” She set her book down next to the empty plate and glass in front of her.
XAN LAUGHED. “HE DIDN’T just get here, Thenia. And that was only a little payback for being an arse yesterday.”
“Are you keeping score?”
“Nah. I want him to remember we don’t mess with our own. Not without significant consequences.”
“Oh?” Thenia stood up and collected her dishes. “Because it almost seemed like you were marking your territory.”
Dahlia laughed. “Xan was mouthin’ off because Endy was a sod to Hope yesterday.”
Xan lifted an eyebrow at his cousin.
“What?” Dahlia pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “He was. Don’t get all pissy with me.” Dahlia pointed back and forth from one girl to the other. “Hope, this is Thenia. Thenia, Hope.”
Hope extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Thenia said with a brief handshake. She turned to Dahlia. “Gods, it’s been a while since we had a new girl. She’s going to cause some upheaval, huh?”
Dahlia looked away from the other demigod and shrugged.
“Are you talking about me?” Hope hated when people talked about her as if she weren’t there.
“Of course,” Thenia said. “You’re too beautiful to not be viewed as competition or a threat. Even if you were ugly, you’d still be like a new toy. We haven’t had a new girl for . . . Oh, it’s been since Marilyn, right?”
“Obelia,” Dahlia corrected.
Xan froze, but he said nothing.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. It’s been boring as the Underworld. Even if you’re stupid, you’ll add some spice,” Thenia said.
Did no one here have manners?
“I’ll see you in the hospital later,” Thenia said, then she walked from the room.
“What does Thenia teach?” Hope asked Xan.
“Medical stuff right now, at least until we get Endy up and going. She also does some history, quite a bit of strateg
ic planning, and the crafty stuff.”
Xan scooped eggs next to a piece of toast and then handed the plate to Hope.
She sprinkled cheese onto the eggs and spooned berries into bowls.
They walked over to the table and Hope sat first. With his foot, Xan pushed Thenia’s vacated chair close to Hope and then joined her at the table.
“Her mother is Athena.”
Of course. She’d need to be careful of Thenia. Athena was known for her exceptional intelligence. Hope didn’t need anyone figuring out who, or what, she was. She took a bite and surveyed the room. Everyone had cleared out. Even Dahlia was gone. Her stomach lurched with a sense of impending danger. She set her fork down and fought the urge to flee.
Xan took a bite of eggs. After swallowing he said, “I’m not going to ask you a bunch of questions. I’ll eventually need to know who your parent is, but you can tell me when you’re ready. At this point, I’m here to make sure you have a good education. Our parents might screw us up, but you don’t have to pretend here. What you decide to do with your immortality is a highly personal decision.”
Relief washed over her. Trust, an unfamiliar but rather pleasant sensation seeped through her heart. With the warm blossoming in her chest came a sense of empowerment. “Thanks.”
“And I’m sorry about the cock-up at the fridge. I wasn’t thinking about how that might make you feel.”
Hope blushed but said nothing. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.
“Endy pisses me off. Talk about a god complex. I wanted him to know that if he messes with you, he messes with me.”
Hope’s jaw dropped. It was the first time, since her mom had died, that she felt like someone had her back. “I think he got that.”
“I hope so.” Xan’s voice was unrelenting. When his eyes met hers, his smile was as fierce as his words.
They finished eating in silence, but it was comfortable—each in their own thoughts, neither needing to say anything.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Hope stacked their dishes in the dishwasher, while Xan washed the pan.
