Breed of Havoc (The Breed Chronicles #3)

by Lanie Jordan

  Meaning if I wasn’t all there, I could get him hurt. It’s what our teachers had been telling us since Phase One. We didn’t have the luxury of having bad days. Whether we wanted to or not, we had to compartmentalize things or others could suffer.

  I sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m good to go.”

  “It’s time to kick some ass, and since it’s my ass that’s going to be getting kicked, you usually like this part.”

  “I do.” I blew out a breath and pushed the conversation with Mr. Connor from my mind. “I’m in.”

  He eyed me for a second longer, gauging my response. After another few seconds, he nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  We joined the others inside. Tasha and Chris cast a quick glance at Linc who nodded in return. I started to question the look, but Mr. Elliot walked to the center of the class.

  “Alright, folks,” Mr. Elliot said. “We’re mixing it up today. You’re going to be working in pairs, like you usually do, but you’ll be using what you’ve learned in Combat and Weapons both. One person will defend themselves against a ‘demon’ that’s stolen their weapon.”

  Daniel snickered. “Like they’ll know how to use them.”

  Mr. Elliot turned his head to the side and he pierced Daniel with a hard glare. “Don’t laugh, Mr. Metcalf. It sounds funny but it’s not. Demons have been known to take a hunter’s weapon and use it against them.”

  “No one’s ever told us that before,” Daniel stammered.

  “Don’t assume what you know this second is all there is to know. I guarantee you right now that it isn’t. Next year, you’ll probably learn something new, too. That’s the nature of hunting. Things change, we learn, we adapt. The first time you think you know everything is the day you jeopardize yourself and someone else. There’s always room to grow and learn. Keep that in mind.” For a minute, he said nothing and only stared ahead. “Today is about learning how to adapt.”

  That wasn’t something I’d heard before and couldn’t decide if it surprised me or not. Considering my own dealings with demons, maybe it shouldn’t have.

  All around me, Prospects frowned and murmured to those nearest to them.

  Natalie raised her hand. “Is that likely to happen?”

  “Likely? No. Possible? Yes. We’re not just here to train for the possible. Good hunters train for the unlikely or even what most people consider impossible.” He shook his head. “Look, you’re all smart enough to know demons aren’t stupid. They learn and adapt as well as we do, maybe even more so because they’re hunted by us. This is why we have to be smarter. This is why we train, even for the unlikeliest scenarios—like having your weapons taken by one. It’s not likely, but it has happened, and because of that, it means it could happen again. We need to be prepared for it. Now split up, and I’ll tell you how we’re going to do that.”

  Mr. Elliot ran us through what he wanted us to do. One person would use one of the Combat routines we’d learned—to defend against someone with a weapon—and the other person, the ‘demon’, would try to attack their opponent with said weapon.

  Linc, who was playing demon, held a replica knife in one hand and circled around me. He growled. I paused, biting back a laugh, and he hit me with the knife. “Jerk.”

  “I’m supposed to attack you.”

  “You’re not supposed to growl.”

  “What? Demons growl.” Grinning, he winked at me. “You need to be prepared for that.”

  “Demons growl. You’re not a demon, Flyboy.” We started circling again. I shrugged a minute later and said, “Even if you look like one sometimes.” This time, he froze, so I hit the knife out of his hand and smiled. “Hunters can be distracting, too.”

  He shook his hand and went to pick up the knife that ended up halfway across the room. “Are they usually so insulting?”

  “This is me we’re talking about.”

  “Good point. You’ll insult the demon into surrendering.”

  I grinned again. “Okay, no more distractions, agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then let’s get to it, Flyboy.”

  We did the routine again, this time without distractions. It started off slow, like it usually did, but then we stepped it up from there. One of the things I liked about being Linc’s partner was that he didn’t take it easy on me because I was a girl. He held his punches, but only as much as he was supposed to so we didn’t hurt each other. I hadn’t minded being Natalie’s partner last Phase—after the pitiful experience of being Brian’s partner—but she hadn’t been as…I didn’t want to say tough, but she’d seemed a little reserved with me. Like she’d been afraid to hurt me or been afraid I’d hurt her. Sparring together had been okay, but it wasn’t challenging at all.

  With Linc, it was always challenging. He knew my strengths and my weaknesses, and he played on both, managing to use my strengths against me and catch me on my weaknesses.

  We switched places a little while later, and after thirty more minutes, we both ended up on the ground. Linc, laying across me on his back, held my weapon arm to the side until I dropped the knife.

  “You trying to show me up, Hall?” he said as he got to his feet. “I didn’t think you’d ever let go of the knife.”

  I frowned. He was supposed to apply pressure on his opponents arm to get them to drop the knife, but I’d never felt any. I opened my mouth to comment but stopped when I heard Tasha giggle. It sounded forced, so I turned around. She had a small smile on her face and Chris grinned at her, rubbing his arm. After a few seconds, they started sparring again, and within a minute, she ended up punching him in the side of the head with the replica knife.

  I winced. Linc gave a muffled laugh. “His own fault for being out of position.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, still watching her and frowning even more now. They were doing the routine correctly, but her movements were…off. Slow and hesitant, and her hands were shaking.

  They tried the move a second time, and again, Tasha ended up hitting him in the head. Chris rubbed the spot. “That’s because I didn’t share my breakfast with you, isn’t it?” He shot a look to Linc. “I’m suffering because of you.”

  Linc laughed. “That’s right. Blame it on me because you don’t have manners.”

  Tasha gave Chris a smile that anyone with a lick of sense would’ve known was weak. She couldn’t smile without the rest of her showing it. I never actually thought of bodies being able to smile before, but hers could. It went from her eyes down to her toes when she meant it. And right now, she didn’t.

  Linc tapped my arm. “You ready to go again?”

  I watched them for another few seconds, and when they seemed to be going okay, I nodded. “Yeah.”

  For the next twenty minutes, I kept an eye on Tasha as I practiced. Linc ended up slamming me to the mat hard because I was distracted and snapped at me to pay attention before I got myself hurt. So I forced myself to relax and hoped Tasha would be fine.

  An hour before class ended, someone yelled. Everyone stopped what they were doing to see what happened.

  Chris was on his knees, clutching his arm to his chest. It seemed like, in the span of only a few seconds, his face went pale and glossed over with sweat. Tasha stood beside him, shaking her head. She said ‘no, no, no’ over and over in the same low, barely-audible tone.

  Linc and I ran to him as Mr. Elliot did the same. He knelt down beside Chris. “What happened?”

  “My shoulder,” he hissed. “Think it’s dislocated.”

  Tasha whimpered. I glanced at her, but she wouldn’t look at me, just kept her gaze on the floor.

  With Mr. Elliot’s help, Chris pushed to his feet. He faced Tasha. “It’s okay.”

  “I broke your goddamn arm,” she sobbed. “How is that okay?”

  “Accidents happen,” Mr. Connor told her, his tone soothing. “Let’s get you down to one of the med-rooms, Chris.”

  “I’ll take him,” Linc said.

  Mr. Elliot nodded. “Than
k you, Linc.” He turned to the rest of the class as Linc led Chris out. “Go on, get back to work.”

  Tasha stood where she was, staring at the door long after Linc and Chris had vanished from sight. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her hands shook violently.

  “Can me and Tasha be excused?” I asked Mr. Elliot as he watched everyone closely.

  “Sure.” He laid a hand on my shoulder, leaning down slightly. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

  “I will.” One set of eyes on her was enough. Despite Mr. Elliot telling everyone to get back to work, everyone was watching her. As I turned to get her, I glared at the ones staring. A few glared back, but most turned away quickly. “Tasha?” She didn’t acknowledge me at all until I touched her hand. She jumped like I’d zapped her with a tazer. “Just me. Thought we could get out of here.”

  She only blinked.

  Sighing, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. We took the elevator to the first floor, then went outside. She didn’t say a word the entire time. This was the longest I’d ever heard her go without talking. It was unnerving. “Talk to me,” I said as I sat on the bleachers.

  Her head shook and tears continued to spill down her cheeks. “I broke his damn arm. Or dislocated it. Whatever. Same damn difference.”

  “It was an accident, Tasha. You know that. Everyone knows it.”

  Her shoulder jerked. “Accident or not, his arm is hurt. Because of me.”

  “No, his arm is hurt because of an accident. They happen.”

  “They don’t happen to you or Linc.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, they do. Remember when Linc broke his foot over the summer?”

  She sniffled and nodded. “He said he kicked something hard.”

  “Yeah. Me.”

  “He did not.”

  “Did so. He was trying a roundhouse kick that I was supposed to avoid and…I didn’t duck. He ended up kicking me in the head.”

  “Is that why you both went to see Doc?”

  “Yeah. I was fine. Linc...not so much.” Well, I’d been fine physically. That’d happened the first week of summer break. Eric had said something about me during one of our training sessions and I’d stood there glaring at him long enough to get a solid kick to the head.

  She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. “You’ve either got a hard head or he’s got weak bones.”

  “He figures it’s the former.” I grinned. “I told him it was the latter just to make him feel bad.”

  Tasha laughed. “You’re so mean to him.”

  “I know,” I said, trying not to chuckle, “but you should’ve seen him. He was so indignant over it and threatened to tape my mouth shut if I told anyone, so don’t tell him I told you.” I waited a beat. “Unless you absolutely need something to hold over him.”

  “I’ll remember that.” She looked away and I heard her sigh. “But it’s not the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.” I scooted closer to her and pulled her head to my shoulder. “But it was still an accident that could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t been distracted. They happen to everyone, Tasha. Me, Linc, you. And Daniel—he managed to knock himself out.”

  Her lips twitched. “That takes talent.”

  “Exactly. So, you know. You’re not quite that good yet, but you have something to work toward now.”

  She laughed. “We’re messes.”

  “We are.” I looked down at her feet. “At least you’ve got great taste in shoes, which is more than I have.” Her shoes were sneakers, but still, she somehow managed to find a pretty, stylish pair in gold with pink trim. Mine were dark blue, grungy, and had scuffs all over them. And they’d pretty much looked that way since the day I bought them. Tasha’s still looked new, and I knew they weren’t since we’d both bought our shoes at the same time.

  She lifted her head. “I have great taste in fashion, period.”

  “This is also true.” I went for comfort over style and always had. I’d take a pair of jeans over a skirt any day of the week, and a simple tee over a blouse, or whatever fancy shirts were called.

  Tasha sighed now. “How am I going to face him, Jade? Or the class.” She lowered her head to her hands. “Today just…sucks. That’s all there is to it. It just sucks.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” I laid a hand on her leg. “Look, while I agree that today definitely didn’t go well, you’ll be okay. Chris won’t be mad at you for it.”

  “And everyone else?”

  “Well, everyone else was already pretty scared of you, so I’m sure today just reconfirmed their fears.” I shrugged. “Maybe I should just make you my bodyguard. No one will say anything if you accidentally hurt me, which is a total plus for you. Hell, they’d probably cheer you on, so that’s another plus.”

  “Aren’t bodyguards supposed to protect people?”

  “Well, yeah, but the person getting protected in the movies always ends up hurt. Everyone knows that—just ask Linc.”

  She fought a chuckle. “And what do you get out of it?”

  I shrugged again. “They’ll leave me alone out of fear of being hurt by you, which is a major plus for me.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me for a full minute. She blinked once, twice. And then she started laughing, hard enough that she actually fell back and hit her head on the bench behind her. She clutched her stomach, and in between the laughing, she gasped and said “ow” over and over. “You’re horrible.”

  “What?” I made my tone sound innocent. “I’m just saying, I might as well benefit from it.”

  She tried to hit me—more of a flail, really—but her hand went too high. It bounced off the bleacher and brought on another round of ‘ow’s, followed by more giggles. “I don’t know,” she panted, “if I want to strangle you or hug you.”

  “I like hugging. Let’s go with that.”

  When she finally stopped laughing, her eyes were red, her breathing quick. She pushed up to a mostly-sitting position and fixed me with a hard stare. “You, Jade Hall, are…I’m not sure what, yet. As soon as I can breathe again, I might try to figure it out.”

  I patted her arm. “Take your time. I’m sure whatever I am isn’t going to change anytime soon.”

  It took a few minutes, but the giggles finally subsided. She sat quietly, then in a quiet tone, said, “Do you really think things will be okay?”

  “Yeah, I do. You’re always telling me not to worry about everyone else, so I try not to. And seriously, who cares what they think? If it’s bad, then we probably don’t like them, anyway. And if we don’t like them, then their opinion shouldn’t carry much weight.” I fixed her with a hard look. “Right?”

  “Okay, okay.” She held up her hands. “You’re right.”

  “I like those words.”

  She snorted. “You would, especially when you probably don’t hear ‘em that often.”

  “Hey, I hear them sometimes. Usually in my mind, but that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

  *~*~*

  Tasha’s mood wasn’t quite as peppy as normal over the next week, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been in Weapons after Chris’s accident. His shoulder had been dislocated, but according to him, he’d had trouble with it before, so it dislocated a lot easier than a normal persons shoulder. I had no idea if he was telling the truth or if it was even possible. Either way, he got major brownie points for trying to make her feel better.

  She’d spent the next few days fetching his food, carrying his stuff to class, and helping with his homework. Chris told her she didn’t have to do anything, but when he saw that it helped relax her, he stopped complaining. That and it might’ve had something to do with the fact that Linc kept telling him to milk it for what it was worth. Tasha kindly pointed out the fact that he fetched the food more than me, and then proceeded to tell him what to do with his opinion. (Apparently she was the only one who could comment on her guilt levels.)

  All in all, things weren’t so bad. Other than Tasha occasionally (every te
n minutes) apologizing to Chris and trying to take care of him, things went back to normal.

  Monday, after a half-day of Combat, we went to the demon-housing facility. Dr. Cherry greeted us when we arrived with a bright smile. “Afternoon, Jade, Linc. You two look well.”

  “Thanks,” I answered for us. “We’re good.”

  “That’s great to hear.” She motioned us to follow her and started down the hall. When we reached what I was now unlovingly referring to as the Demon Testing room, she said, “I heard about the Burrower incident.”

  “And?” I asked, waiting for the punch line or, hopefully, an explanation.

  “I have a theory. It will take more testing before it’s verified—and I have an idea on how to do that—but I think it’s right.”

  I shot Linc a sidelong glance. “Do I want to know?”

  “I’m not sure you’ll like it, but I think it’s important you know, while also keeping in mind that I could be wrong.” She grinned down at me. “Of course, I never believe that’s the case, but it’s bound to happen eventually.”

  Linc and I both laughed. I shook my head and let out a breath. “Alright, what’s the theory?”

  She took a seat and gestured to the other ones. “Essentially, I think Doc had the right idea about her tier theory, though they may be a slightly different reason to it. What I believe,” she started as we sat down, “is that the demons with naturally lower aggression levels—such as C1s—become even more mellow when you’re around. Whereas the demons with the higher levels of aggression—C3s and C4s—become even more aggressive. Something in or about your DNA affects their endorphin levels.”

  Linc frowned. “Vamps are considered C1s, though.” He glanced at me. “And they’ve gone after her.”

  “Very true.” Dr. Cherry nodded. “But remember, they’re not categorized based on their aggression levels but rather their difficulty in defeating. Some C1s are, of course, less aggressive. That doesn’t mean they’re any less dangerous.”