Iron Inheritance

by G. R. Fillinger

  Hit to the chest.

  Fist to the jaw.

  Headbutt to the nose.

  All three went down before I could blink. Denisov stood to the side with her arms crossed, the sharp, stern lines on her face discernible even from where I stood.

  I stopped stretching and stared, perplexed and impressed. “Why does she have his feet chained up?”

  Freddy stopped trying to cartwheel like Miranda and said, “Denisov never wants anyone to rely too much on their talent. Says it shows weakness. That’s why Josh came here, isn’t it? To train with her?”

  I nodded, my brow furrowed. Josh unshackled himself as Denisov spoke to him.

  He certainly didn’t look weak.

  Maybe because he was shirtless.

  Not that I’d noticed.

  Josh saluted when Denisov finished.

  I turned away and continued to stretch before whatever Denisov had planned for the day. Normally, we sparred and ran the track, but the appearance of the obstacle course promised something more.

  “Brooks!” Denisov’s bark made me jump.

  I turned back around and found her watching me, suddenly only a few yards away. She didn’t even have to raise a finger for me to step forward. Her sharp nose, short gray hair, tight black tank top, and silver eyes communicated what she wanted at all times—attention.

  “Has your talent revealed itself yet?” Her voice cracked like a whip.

  I shook my head, a steady pressure rising in my chest. If I’d been able to, she would have been the second to know. It probably would have stopped the disappointed looks she cast my way every day.

  Her brow furrowed for a long moment, then her sharp eyes looked up at Miranda and Freddy, who had been edging closer to the conversation with their stretches.

  “Can I help you with something?” said Denisov in no more than a whisper.

  Miranda and Freddy froze mid-stretch. Even Nate, who leaned against the wall behind her seemed to stiffen as if he’d been caught listening in.

  “No? Then back to it.” Her strong, bony hand curled around my shoulder and pulled me into a stroll toward the track.

  Nate’s freckled leg twitched as if he might follow, but the rest of him remained motionless.

  “You have a unique status as a Patron at this headquarters.”

  I chewed my tongue and waited for her to reveal what she really meant. This was the first time I’d spoken to her directly, and I’d seen enough to know that I shouldn’t answer unless asked a direct question.

  “Not because of who you are—though, I admit, that’s part of it. Your grandfather was smarter than most. He knew what was coming, and after your mother was killed in action, he went into hiding. Complete radio silence.” She nodded, thin lines in the skin around her eyes. “I’d have done the same thing.”

  My muscles tensed, but I kept my jaw shut. Killed in action wasn’t how I’d thought about my mom before. It made it seem like she was one of the faceless masses extinguished by fate in some war. Maybe that was partly how I used to see her, but now it was an insult. She’d been murdered, and every night before I went to sleep, I saw the face of the man who’d done it.

  “Your unique status comes from the fact that you are the only Patron your age to have fought a Babylonian directly. There hasn’t been an overt attack in years. They’ve preferred other means of corrupting humans.” She glanced sidelong at me for a reaction. “Your Grandfather trained you—I’ve seen it these past two weeks in the way you carry yourself. Once your talent is revealed, others will look to you for advice and leadership.”

  A new tension knotted in my stomach at the thought. Why would these people look to me? I hadn’t even fought Kovac. Nate was the only one who had and survived. Why wasn’t she talking to him?

  She seemed satisfied with the terror on my face and smiled. “Good. Now fall back a few feet before I start yelling. I’ve busted more than a few eardrums, I can tell you.”

  I nodded, suspicious of the small bit of warmth she’d just shown, and headed back to Miranda and Freddy. Josh was already at their side, a huge smirk between his slightly scruffy cheeks.

  Denisov clapped her hands above her head once, and everyone stood at attention and faced her.

  “Normal training and conditioning will resume tomorrow. Today, we’re going to do something a little different.” She clapped her hands again, and everyone formed military rank and file lines. She walked in between perfectly straight rows and columns with her hands behind her muscular back. “It is our duty to be prepared for battle at all times.”

  “Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am,” the whole room shouted at once, myself included. It was natural—muscle memory from a thousand Saturdays spent with Grandpa training in the red sandstone hills behind our house.

  She smiled. “By now, you all know that there was a Babylonian attack in Nevada two weeks ago. Solomon Brooks was killed, and if there was another attack today, you’d all die too!” Her voice reverberated off the concrete walls.

  I raised my eyebrows. She was quite the motivational speaker.

  If motivation meant scaring everyone to death, that is.

  “So far this year, I’ve seen people attempt to master hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, and a minimal display of a talent.” She paused. “It’s not enough! Humans cannot see what is right in front of them, but we can.”

  She walked around the side of the group toward the giant wooden wall that began the obstacle course, the muscles in her shoulders very apparent as she reached out and tested one of the handholds.

  “Our fight is in two worlds—the spiritual and the physical. So far, you have lived and fought in the physical. Now, I need you to embrace the essence that lives inside everything, the angelic power that resides in you in order to protect humanity from the coming dangers of the Babylonians.”

  “Oorah!” someone yelled in the back. Many others echoed the call.

  I grinned, my heart thumping. Grandpa used to say that to me when he tucked me in at night, a sly smile on his face.

  “Today, we move everyone up a level. If you haven’t already, you will learn to manifest your essence as weapons. Your talents can do more; we need them to do more.”

  No one said a word, but my mind lit up with the blue of Grandpa’s sword, of Nate’s green whip.

  “This is normally left to third year students or simply for Patrons to find in the course of their life, but with the threat looming, we can’t afford to wait any longer.”

  I narrowed my eyes. The threat? Did she know something more about Kovac? His followers? There was obviously still something coming.

  And I’ll be ready for it this time.

  “You will run this course today.” She slapped her hand on the wall. “With the added stressor of enemy assailants stationed at random points with weapons in hand.”

  Several pairs of heavy boots marched out, the sound bouncing off the hard, concrete floor. Each person was clad in brown, leather armor. Duke, Cheryl—the girl Duke had tried to tell me to look more like in my first class—and another guy with a tornado swirl of black hair and eyeliner stopped in front of the wall and looked straight ahead.

  “Think of them as your motivators.” Denisov snapped her fingers.

  The three soldiers stuck out their hands in front of them. Almost instantly, beams of light flashed to life in their tensed grips. Duke and Cheryl’s were almost identical golden spears, whereas Mr. Eyeliner held a purple, curved Katana blade.

  My eyes lit up, and my pulse quickened. I could almost feel the power radiating off them.

  “A true spiritual weapon is variable—active on either plane of existence.” Denisov extended her hand for Duke to turn to Cheryl, her blond hair tied in a tight ponytail.

  “Is that his sister?” I looked at the similar golden spears. They were almost see-through, yet their points looked razor sharp.

  Josh shook his head. “Girlfriend. Looks like it’s meant to be, huh?” He grinned.

  I smiled, my mind washed in im
ages of what Josh’s weapon was…what mine would be.

  “The spiritual weapon, as part of your essence, is controlled by your mind. If you don’t wish it to harm someone, it won’t.”

  Duke swung his spear around so it pointed at Cheryl and then stabbed it through her stomach.

  I gasped and stuck out my hand to stop him.

  Cheryl seemed to find it hilarious, laughing like she was being tickled.

  I dropped my hand to my side and caught my breath. As I looked to the side, it seemed that many other people had reacted the same way.

  Denisov stood off to the side with her back to the action, observing all of our expressions with a wry smile. “However, at its most focused and powerful, a spiritual weapon can cut through soul and body. That is what makes it powerful. Since I think Mr. Harding would like Ms. Dearborne’s soul to remain intact—”

  Duke nodded politely, and Cheryl curtsied.

  “Today, we’ll focus on the body.”

  “Not too much.” Cheryl narrowed her eyes.

  Duke’s dimples pressed into his cheeks, and he flicked the spear around behind her so fast that it left a streak of gold in the air.

  The crowd gasped and pointed at the ground where a small pile of blond hairs lay. Several people applauded, but Denisov silenced them with a glance.

  “This is not a game, and these are not toys. They are to defend, and for today, to help persuade you that essence is for more than making you all warm and fuzzy inside.” Her eyes scanned the crowd without her head turning. “With the added stressors of an actual threat, it’s my hope that a good few of you will produce a talent or at least part of a weapon by the end of the day.” Her eyes stopped and locked on me. “I’ve also informed Nurse Wright that amputation is a possibility today, though we all know she can get busy. Line up!”

  The whole room forgot its military precision and jostled together in a lopsided line in front of the first obstacle. From this vantage point, we couldn’t see anything that would happen beyond the wall. The first person in line would have the same chance as the rest of us.

  Josh stood in front of me, his shoulder blades even with my chin. I contemplated poking him in the back and talking to him, striking up a conversation like Ria could with any guy, but the closer my hand got, the more I hesitated.

  Denisov blew a whistle, and the first person in line jumped halfway up the wall. Only five more people in front of us.

  Josh glanced back at me. “How you doing?”

  I swung my hand up like I was fixing my hair and nodded. “Peachy.”

  He smirked. “Essence weapons are really useful. Great with demons, ghosts, zombies—”

  “Zombies?” My eyes widened.

  Another whistle.

  He laughed, his chest a deep drum. “Kidding. You know that angels gave humans the design for the earliest weapons? Probably why we can create them with essence so easily.”

  I rubbed my hands on my pants. “But what if I don’t even know what my talent is? How am I supposed to create a weapon if I don’t know the first thing about any of this?”

  Another whistle.

  “Talents show themselves when you’re least expecting it—mostly when you’re stressed.” Josh’s blue eyes stared down into mine softly. “You shouldn’t worry.”

  If all it takes is stress, then why haven’t I shown something already?

  Whistle.

  “Excuse me a moment,” Josh said as he crouched down in front of the fifteen-foot wall, next in line.

  Denisov’s whistle shrieked a few seconds later, and Josh jumped eight feet into the air. His hands caught two handholds near the top. A second later, he was gone, and I was left with the sounds of his progress.

  I closed my eyes and tried to tune out the din of Miranda and Freddy’s jittery conversation behind me.

  A pluck of metal wire.

  The thunk of wood on wood.

  A splash of water.

  The whistle.

  The tension in my limbs released all at once and shot me forward, my fingernails digging into the wood behind each handhold. I scrambled to the top and swung my whole body over without hesitation about what was on the other side.

  The ground came quicker than I thought. My knees compressed and rolled me forward onto my shoulder to take the hit.

  I came up on one knee and caught my breath. In front of me, a narrow path of tires led to a low, horizontal net of barbed wire. Beyond that, another wooden wall obstructed the view.

  I pattered through the tires easily, building up enough momentum to slide halfway through the belly crawl area headfirst, but I didn’t stop. I struck out my elbows and pulled my body forward.

  Then a patch of barbs pressed into my back as someone jumped on the wire.

  I screamed and tried to flatten myself out, but it was no use.

  A laugh echoed above me, and a flash of purple sliced through the taught wire. It sprang off my back, and I was able to get to my knees. Mr. Eyeliner looked down at me expectantly.

  A stream of adrenaline expanded my veins to twice their normal size, but my head maintained control. This was all to get me to show a talent, to make a weapon. The pain had a purpose.

  I blinked, and a rush of wind announced Mr. Eyeliner’s departure. I got up, stepped around the remaining wire, and climbed the next wall as drops of blood trickled down my back. At the top, I looked to the right and saw Nate’s red hair and khaki shirt bobbing closer to the obstacle course.

  I jumped down to the next section and found a shallow pool with a series of oddly positioned posts sticking out of the surface. I managed to find the first post and spring myself toward a larger one about four feet away.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose in anticipation. Someone was watching me just like before. Would it be Duke or Cheryl? What would they do in this obstacle, drown me?

  I looked down at the water. Maybe three feet deep, at best.

  I hopped to another post. On the far side of the pool, ropes hung above a darker blue section. That was my goal.

  My shoes squeaked on the surface of the next post.

  My heels thumped into the one after that.

  I was almost in the center now. My whole body was a piano wire ready to snap.

  A tingle ran up my spine as she came, slower than my other opponent. I turned in time to see Cheryl’s body sail through the air with her spear pointed straight at me.

  I dodged to the left at the last moment, and the spear stabbed down into the water. A flash of gold rippled through it like a wave.

  My heart thumped wildly, but I didn’t feel any different. How would I even know what a talent felt like?

  I sprang to a post several feet away and crouched for her next attack.

  Cheryl grinned at the challenge and turned as if she was going to go around for a better position. Then she swung her arm forward and threw her spear straight at me.

  I sucked in a breath and ducked to the left, the point of the spear grazing my shoulder.

  It hurt more than it should have. Pain ignited something in me that sent the whole world ablaze. I convulsed, and my eyelids sprang apart as the whole room lit on fire with light.

  The wood glowed with a faint, sparkling brown that doubled my vision. I swiped my hand through the outer layer and didn’t hit solid wood for another inch. The whole room glowed like this—an ethereal double-take of northern lights undulating, surrounding everything. Even my own skin burned with light blue flames.

  I waited too long, and a foot collided with my back, catapulting me into the water.

  I sucked in breaths out of rhythm as I flailed my arms around to find a post, the lights and water blurring everything so much that nearly every grasp met only blank air.

  When I finally looked up and realized I wasn’t drowning, a woman in gold stood above me with her spear pulled back, sighted on my chest.

  I recoiled until my back pressed into something solid, my senses overloaded. There was so much color, so much light. I could ba
rely raise my arms.

  The spear thrust forward, tiny golden waves modulating the air as it stabbed toward my heart.

  I clenched my jaw as if that would do anything, as if that would save me from the pain I knew I needed to feel to see this world. I forced my eyes to stay open to the rainbow of colors that didn’t have a name, hoping the sight of them wouldn’t go away.

  Then there was the crack of a whip.

  A green strand of light curled around the spear and pulled it out of the air at the last second.

  I blinked, and all the light was gone. Cheryl stood above me, her eyes, like mine, ablaze for the one who’d extinguished the light.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nate stood to the side, his feet in the water, his arm stretched out like he was still holding on to something.

  I couldn’t see what.

  My pulse punched the side of my throat as I stood, and water poured off my yoga pants and blue shirt—the same color as the essence I’d seen around my body for that split second. I splashed the water aside as I made my way for him, my eyes burning anger so hot that my upper lip curled into a snarl. I’d been so close. I finally saw everything that they did, and he took it away.

  I reached out to grab his arm like he had mine so many times, but Denisov beat me to it.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Warder?” She practically lifted him off the ground.

  He didn’t blink, his body loose enough to take the change in elevation, his eyes set on me. “She’s not ready.”

  I grabbed his other arm and pulled him toward me. “You don’t get to decide that.”

  Denisov released him, her narrow features razor sharp as she surveyed him again and turned away without another word.

  “Eve, I—” Nate began, not even attempting to free his arm from my grip.

  I marched him across the orange track without releasing his arm, my fingernails digging into his bicep past the point when any normal person would have cried out in pain.

  But he wasn’t normal. He was a Guardian. He’d been watching me my whole life without me even knowing it. He’d lied to me to keep me from this place, from who I was, and now he was trying to do the same thing right at the moment when I was finally able to see the world for what it truly was. There was so much more to see.