“You’re distracted.” Victory glinted in his silvery eyes as Devon swept her leg, sending Sage crumpling to the padded ground. “I send you away for a few days, and look at you.”
His taunting, however well meaning, scratched at an itch she really didn’t want to touch. In less than a week, her life had been turned upside down. How could she not be anything but distracted? She hesitated, and he came down on top of her before she could roll out of the fall.
Straddling her torso, he snatched her arms and pinned them above her head. “Distraction is a weakness. Weakness makes you a victim, Sage. What are you going to do?”
Devon’s weight squeezed the air from her lungs. He was easily double her size and had muscles for days. In other words, he was just the kind of person she was learning to defend against. Small as she was, there would never be a chance for a fair fight. She would always be the underdog. Miranda had made it look easy – her mother had had neither bulk nor size, but she had always been able to overcome those disadvantages. Sage’s inspiration to look into self-defense. And with Mom dead, this was even more important – honoring the memory – though Sage might never be as graceful. She certainly wasn’t at that moment, wriggling underneath Devon’s massive body like a worm. Leverage. She needed leverage.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he yelled, two inches from her face, those steely-silver eyes daring her to make a move.
“You’re crushing my ribs,” Sage groaned, frustrated by her own weakness. Devon had demonstrated this hold only a week ago, and she’d been able to get out of it. How had she done it so easily then?
“If I was some asshole out there in the street, I’d be doing a hell of a lot worse. Now, what are you going to do to stop me?” Cruel in his methods, Devon wasn’t the kind of trainer who let you wuss out of things. She knew the only way he was going to get off her was if she figured out how to make him. If only she could remember the right maneuvers!
Other people in the gym had stopped to stare. Embarrassment seared her cheeks. She didn’t need to hear their laughter to know they were enjoying the spectacle of her failure.
Devon shook her wrists as a reminder. “Focus.”
His physical cue was just what she needed to kick start her memory. Jerking her arms in different directions, she threw him off guard. As he adjusted his grip, she shifted her hips, finally finding the leverage she needed, and then threw all her weight to the side and escaped his grasp. As she came around on top of him, Sage finished with a mock punch to his jaw.
“Sloppy!” Devon said, clearly unimpressed. “That was a simple hold. I shouldn’t have had to remind you how to break it.”
His voice had all the authority of a drill sergeant and the volume to match. No doubt everyone else in the gym was getting a great show as he dressed her down publicly. Devon Kade wasn’t known for his gentle approach. But he was known for strength and expertise in multiple forms of combat; the awards hanging on the wall were proof of that.
“Bad week.” Sweat ran in fat drops down her face, and she struggled to maintain her breath as she stood and wiped her brow.
“Reset. We’re going again.” Devon pointed to the mat. “A bad week is no excuse. Channel that negativity into something useful, like not getting your ass handed to you.”
“Sir, yes sir!” she responded jokingly, trying to fight aggression with laughter as she caught her breath and prepared to go again.
“Was that supposed to be funny?” Devon’s glare darkened.
“Sort of.” She shrugged nervously.
“Let me remind you that you are here to learn how to defend yourself. You want to play around and have fun, go take Zumba and giggle with your girlfriends.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t waste my time if you’re not serious. I will happily refund your membership.”
She’d wanted to be taught by the best if she ever hoped to be even a shadow of her mother’s greatness – and Devon was the best. The sobering reminder that she paid for the privilege of being yelled at and mocked in the name of developing skills to protect herself wiped all emotion from her face. She dropped into fighting stance. “Let’s do this.”
He came in hard and fast, stepping into her personal space with a close strike aimed at her chin. She blocked with one arm and countered, throwing her elbow out.
“Good,” he yelled, backing away before her elbow connected with his chin. “But don’t get cocky, kid.”
She snorted with a laugh and was rewarded by an immediate kick aimed at her knee. Pivoting a little late, she narrowly avoided being taken down.
“Don’t guess. Anticipate,” he barked at her. “Watch me. Watch my muscles. Watch the sway of my stance. There are clues for the observant.” He was as fast as a viper and preyed on her distraction. If she blinked, he’d strike. If she wasn’t watching his feet, he’d kick. It was all meant to teach her, she understood, but frustrating just the same. He expected her to be a mind reader when it came to an attack, and that was magic she simply didn’t have. However, Sage heeded his words and forced herself to focus, breathing slowly as she watched his movements. Her eyes darted from his arms to his legs, catching the shift in his hips.
Rounding on Devon as quickly as she could, she successfully blocked the fist that came cross-body toward her face, but missed the foot that followed.
“You know I’m coming for you; quit being the victim,” Devon growled. “Don’t pretend I’ll stop with a single strike. Keep your head in the game. It’s your job to make sure I can’t hit you again.”
There was no point in answering him. Anything she said would only invite more taunting, and she was certain that others training in the gym had abandoned their sparring to watch her get her ass handed to her. She couldn’t blame them. She’d be salting the popcorn too if it was anyone else in the ring. Might as well give them a good show.
Focusing on his upper body this time, she watched for telling twitches or the tightening of muscles. Sweat stung her eyes, but blinking would be the end of her. He’d strike and then kick her while she was down.
Lose hard until you learn how to win – the motto was scrawled out across the doors to the locker room. No doubt Devon claimed that as his personal quote.
As tiring and frustrating as this session was turning out to be, it had taken her mind off her troubles. For that she was endlessly thankful, but she remained alert.
His left bicep twitched. Anticipating the strike, she instinctively brought her arms up in a cross to block. He came in hard, a freight train of muscle bent on crashing through her defenses. Her stance lacked balance, and she knew they’d both end up on the ground, but in a moment of frantic defense, she brought her knee up. Somehow through the blur of motions, she managed to connect with his groin, earning a satisfying groan from Devon. They toppled to the ground, but Sage quickly maneuvered back to her feet to face him.
He clutched his stomach, his eyes narrowing with strain. Sage smiled inwardly, mentally high-fiving herself as she saw his jaw set tight to hide the pain. He’d told her to stop him, and it appeared, at least for the moment, that she’d done it.
No matter how tough a person is, if you find their soft spot, you can send them to their knees. Her mother had said that to her years before. Sage had always been small, and kids liked to pick on small people. Fighting dirty was sometimes the only way to avoid getting beaten up. That was one bit of self-defense she’d mastered: When in doubt, kick ‘em in the nuts. Or use a knee. Either way, it gets results from most men.
“Well played.” His eyes watered in pain, but his voice didn’t betray any feeling.
“Lucky, I guess.”
He reached out and grasped her forearm. “For someone of your stature, that’s probably your best move. Flex for me.”
She made a muscle, but she had no bulk. Years of going to the gym had given her well-toned arms, but as scrawny as she was, they lacked the definition or thickness that usually translated into streng
th. Even when she flexed as hard as she could, her arms looked like twigs compared to Devon’s. She saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Devon dropped her arm and took a step back, scrutinizing her, looking up and down as he took stock of her physical appearance.
“Make a fist,” he ordered.
She brought both arms up in a boxer’s stance, double-fisted, wondering if he was about to initiate another round of sparring.
Slowly, he reached out holding his hands unthreateningly as he took hold of her left hand and corrected her thumb placement. His eyes landed on her deformity, and she held her breath, waiting for the usual round of questions, knowing she couldn’t smart off to him no matter how sick she was of hearing people ask about the damn mark.
“I saw your instincts kick in back there. You’re not entirely untrainable.” She was shocked when Devon didn’t mention her mark. And the look on his face – not even a flicker of surprise. He didn’t seem to care at all, save for the way she held her hands ready to strike. “But if you want to truly be able to defend yourself, you’re going to have to put a little meat on those bones.”
She smiled at his praise. He wasn’t the type to blow smoke up someone’s ass to ensure they kept paying their membership dues.
“Weights might actually help you. How often do you exercise?”
“Other than classes here?”
“Obviously.”
“I try to get in an hour of cardio after work most days.”
“Do you have a personal trainer, or access to one?” Devon asked.
“Other than you?” She winced, realizing that losing her job meant she’d quickly run out of money to pay her membership fees. “No. I’m too broke for that.”
“I want you to start adding muscle groups to your rotation. Cardio is useless by itself. If you want true strength, you need to work on those muscles.”
“I’m not trying to be the Hulk,” she replied with a laugh, hoping he’d get it.
Devon didn’t even crack a smile. “Tiny as you are, that’s never going to be an issue.”
“So, like leg day, arm day, core?” she asked, hoping he’d say no. Some families were religious nuts and attended mass, confession, and Bible study multiple times a week. Not hers. The Cynwrig’s prayed in the house of pain. She’d been well versed in the teachings of the weight training cycle from an early age, and though she appreciated the way she’d looked and felt because of it, the monotony had bored her to tears. Kickboxing, Krav Maga, and other forms of combat fighting were much more interesting forms of prayer and penance, though she still attended the treadmills with fervent regularity.
“Exactly.” A smile finally cracked his stony expression, but she knew better than to take it as approval. “I’m going to give you a routine to work through. You’ve got some hidden strength in there; let’s see if we can pull it to the surface.”
In other words, she was in for a brutal workout regime. Sage could already hear her muscles screaming in protest, but she wouldn’t reveal that to Devon. “Sounds fun,” she lied.
“Like I said – if you’re not committed, there’s the door. I’m here to make you better than you are now. If that means kicking your ass and tearing you a new one, so be it. But I’m not wasting my time and effort on a quitter.”
“I never said I was quitting.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s there in your eyes.”
Damn him and his Jedi-like senses. Sage sighed, but before she could defend herself, he continued.
“I see a hundred girls like you come in here every month. You think you’re a bad-ass because you’re taking a street-fighting class. ‘Ain’t no sexual predator gonna mess with me.’” He waved his hand in the air and planted it on his hip in a diva-like move that would have made Matt drop his jaw. “Learning a few moves doesn’t make you a badass. Most of those hundred girls a month that come knocking on my door get sent to the black belt farms and McDojos. There are plenty of gyms that will take your money and kiss your ass. You pay them enough and they’ll give you a damn medal of honor. Not in my gym. You have potential, Sage. What are you going to do with it?”
She nodded, not sure if she could say anything after his motivational tirade that would be acceptable.
“Go clean up and see me on the way out.” Devon turned and headed for the front office.
Suddenly realizing everyone in the gym was staring at her, Sage lowered her head and made quick work of disappearing into the locker room. Truth be told, if she really had lost her job, she might not be able to afford to work out in this gym anymore. But damn if his Tony Robins-esque pep talks didn’t make her want to rise to the occasion. If she managed to keep it up, she might one day reach the same level of bad-assery as her mom.
SEVEN
Darkness had descended, but Sage wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. Matt was working, so she’d only be going home to an empty apartment if she did. That kind of alone time didn’t mesh well with the day she’d had.
Training with Devon left her muscles tired, but she couldn’t shake the stress left in the wake of being let go from her job. Marcy hadn’t said the words you’re fired, but the implication was there. Yet that ambiguity just didn’t add up. She kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind as she walked toward her neighborhood bar.
Marcy had been all snarky and confident, looking for anything to discredit her. And then suddenly, after seeing her deformity, she’d changed her tune. It was the strangest thing; though not nearly as strange as hallucinating her boss as an actual troll, or that green goblin man back at ASSET in Phoenix. And if she truly had been laid off, there would be no healthcare coverage for the shrink she clearly needed. They said tragedy often caused mental issues. At the very least, it would be a decent excuse for why she was losing her grip on reality. She was in the throes of a complete breakdown, and it was probably obvious to anyone who looked at her. Marcy had opted for the easy way to remove her from the office rather than deal with some crazy drama – the path of least resistance.
Either way, Sage would have to deal with the fallout soon. She resigned herself to looking for a new job in the morning.
After the brutal workout she’d endured, her stomach roared for food. Around the corner from her apartment complex sat a small English-style pub, the next best thing to going home. She’d been in there so often they knew her by name, and she decided to reward surviving the day with some sliders and ale.
Scooting into a back corner booth, she waved at Julie, the waitress, and mouthed the words, “The usual.”
Some people hated to eat alone, but not Sage. Sitting back and watching the people around her was like a front row seat to her own personal soap opera. Their comings and goings were nearly as scripted as television. The daily drama of date nights, breakups, friendly drunks, and groups celebrating who knows what were always there. The faces might change occasionally, but alcohol and people always made for good entertainment. Sitting in the farthest corner was the perfect spot to see but not be seen; no one came back by her table, unless it was Julie filling her drink or bringing her extra chips.
Across the room, clinging to the bar like a crutch, sat a familiar barfly. Blatantly drunk, he flailed his arms as he pleaded with the bartender. Though she couldn’t hear him, Sage put her own words to the movement of his lips. “Please sir, may I have another?” She giggled.
Julie arrived with food in hand. “Bad lip reading again?”
“Can’t help myself.”
She pointed to a couple three tables over. “Breakup.”
Sage gave the guy a quick once-over. Dressed too nicely to be slumming it in a neighborhood bar, he had the look of a captain in the air force. She cleared her throat before delivering his words. “I have a confession to make. I’m not in the army. I just like wearing uniforms.”
Julie snorted and took on the role of the woman arguing and near tears. “I should have known better. There is no Unlimited Security Patrol, is there?”
“Nice.” Sage nar
rowed her eyes and watched the man for an emotional clue to his next words. “Postal workers are an army of sorts.”
Julie nearly dropped the tray she was carrying in a fit of laughs. “I could play this game all night. But duty calls.” She set down the food and turned to head back toward the kitchens.
Sage giggled to herself, glancing at the fighting couple between bites of her mini-burgers. Her stomach groaned with appreciation as she devoured nearly half the plate in under a minute.
Witnessing someone else’s misery wouldn’t earn her any karma points, but sitting alone in a pub left her little else to do. She finished her last bite just as the jilted woman stormed away, and she wondered if she’d find another equally entertaining bit of drama.
It was a slow night in the bar, leaving little else for her to watch. She returned her attention the guy who’d been the dumpee. He remained seated as if he’d not been bothered at all by the scene that had played out moments before. That piqued Sage’s curiosity. She tried to be inconspicuous as she threw glances back in his direction. Maybe he had been the dumper in that relationship. Maybe she’d imagined it all wrong. Her mind concocted a variety of scenarios as she spied on him while picking at her fries. Smearing them one by one in ketchup before popping them into her mouth, she invented a new persona for the strange man across the bar. He was a secret agent, and the woman who’d left was his informant. He was reasonably attractive, and the suit he was wearing only added to the appeal. Probably more middle management than secret agent, but he could be under cover.
Julie came by and set down a new beer in front of Sage. “You looking to swoop in now that he’s single?”
“Have I been staring that hard?”
“Wipe the drool off your chin, honey.”
“I was zoned out, really,” she half lied. But as she glanced once more at the guy across the bar, their eyes connected. The bluest of the blue, his eyes reminded her of the dream she’d had with the blue magic creature trying to kill her. “Shit!” Sage ducked, turning her head away.
A Weapon Of Magical Destruction Page 5
