“No good.”
“Are you on drugs? Of course that’s good. I did exactly what you wanted.”
He walked over with none of the happiness in his step that was bursting out of me, and grabbed the knife.
“Did you go eat some cranky human today? Is that what’s wrong with you?”
“I told you. I don’t eat people.”
“Or at least not the happy ones. Were their muscles too tough? Maybe you should try some babies,” I said, trying to wring a little bit of the business from him.
He stopped in front, grabbed my hand, and placed the knife in my palm. “You have some funny moments. That wasn’t one of them.” He stepped aside, allowing me a full view of my assassin.
“Fine. Eating babies, not so funny.” I lifted the knife and pointed toward the target. “Care to tell me why that wasn’t good enough?”
“Because you hit that based on practice. Based on physical ability alone. I need you to hit your mark with magic. You have got to be able to control it, or one day you’re going to get into a fight with your pants down. Don’t you understand that? What if I sprang into the beast all the time? You need control.”
The words sounded like a painful screeching to my ears, but I knew he was right. Lack of control was definitely on the list of personality traits that I needed shed.
“Even without control, you’d be a good adversary; maybe you’d even be great in time. But you have to be better than that with what’s coming for you. For what comes next, you have to be invincible.”
“No one’s invincible.”
“You have to be.”
“How do I manage that?”
He reached to his hip where a gun was strapped and handed it to me. “For now, practice.”
I turned the gun over in my hands, a bit in awe of such a small thing that could do so much damage.
“Close your eyes—”
“You told me not to do that anymore when I’m aiming.”
“Listen to me. Close your eyes and feel for the magic. Then open them. Once you do, I want you to use the gun to shoot that.” He pointed to the tip of a piece of dead bark that was sticking out of the tree.
“That’s like…” I squinted. Apparently my eyes weren’t so magical, because I felt like I could use a pair of glasses right then. “A centimeter big?”
“Yes. Now do it.”
I shoved the hair out of my eyes, knowing when I tried this I was going to need to be on the tippy top of my game. My lids fluttered shut and I tried to sense the warmth, the burning energy that felt like it was growing in my chest. The more I concentrated, the more it felt like there was something actually in there.
“Is this burning psychosomatic or is there really something going on in here?” I asked, tapping my chest but not opening my eyes.
“Stop talking and concentrate.”
Uh oh. Someone’s patience was running thin again. I went back to concentrating on the burn, figuring if it was really there and going to cause any damage, it would’ve done so the first time I’d tried it out.
I shed all my other thoughts and focused on the feeling. The more I concentrated, the more it seemed like I could see it in my mind, a small flame within me. I imagined myself stoking it until it was piping hot, but strangely not uncomfortable as it grew, like it was last time. Then the air around me seemed to become hot as I mentally reached outward like he’d said.
“That’s good. Open your eyes and try it now,” I heard Dax say. I opened my eyes and lifted the gun. Power exploded from my hands, and I wasn’t altogether certain it was just from the gun. The tip of the bark disappeared.
“Good,” Dax said, king of the understatement.
That had been freaking awesome. I wanted to hop around the clearing, because that was a shot only a badass could make, but played it cool instead.
“You still feel it?”
I nodded. It felt like I was cocooned by the sun on a perfect summer day.
“Hold it. I want to try something different.”
“Okay,” I said, committing before I knew what he wanted. It didn’t matter. If it was using my newfound magic, I was down for it. I was going to be the sickest thing that hit the Wilds in a generation, maybe two, maybe even the last century. Try and screw with me now, bounty hunters and Dark Walkers.
“Put the gun down and pick a part of my body to hit.”
“Really? Anywhere?”
“Yes.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.”
I scratched my head. “I don’t know if I’d be so sure of that.” I buffed my nails on my shirt as I said it and gave him the look, the one that said he might be biting off more than he could chew. It was mostly a joke, but in another month it might not be.
“I think I’ve got this.”
“I mean, if you insist.” It wasn’t like it was a sucker punch. He was asking me to do it and all, even if I didn’t mind taking a swing at him. Wasn’t like he didn’t have one coming.
“Make sure you concentrate, because you aren’t getting a free shot. You’re going to have to earn it.”
I tightened my ponytail, trying to force some escaped hair back into it as I looked him over. Face? Nah. I liked his face, even when he was using it to mock me. Plus, I was the one who had to look at him. A gut shot would be good enough, maybe hear a little umph as I knocked the wind out of him. That could be pleasant.
“Concentrate,” he said as he moved into a fighting stance and turned his body slightly to the side, making the target smaller.
I felt for the warm glow inside and gave it a mental stir, realizing it was easier this time than even the last two times, and focused on my target. I launched into action. He was a blur as he dodged out of the way. My knuckles hit something way too hard to be flesh before my legs came out from under me as my momentum threw me off balance and I was the one gasping for air.
He walked over and leaned down, looking at me and smiling.
“Not funny to mock me because I missed. I could be critically injured right now.” My palm found his and he pulled me to my feet, and I stood there demonstrating I was fine. It would take a lot more than that to keep me down.
“You didn’t miss,” he said.
“Hitting the tree doesn’t count.”
“You hit me.”
“I hit you?”
“Yes.”
What the hell was he made of? I knew I’d hit hard. I’d felt the blow vibrate all the way up to my shoulder and nothing? Not even a little pain on his face? What fun was that?
His head tilted to the side as if he saw something going on with me that I couldn’t see myself. “People have certain aptitudes. Mine is strength. I think yours is aim.”
“Aim? Can you elaborate on that?”
“It means when you aim, you don’t miss. That’s why you almost drove into the tree yesterday.”
“So if I pick a target…” My words trailed off as I thought through what he meant.
“You hit it.” He took a few steps back. “Get the gun. The more you practice building the magic up inside, the less you’ll have to try. It’ll happen almost without effort.”
He picked out another target, this time one I couldn’t see clearly at all. It was a blur in the far distance. I didn’t close my eyes but managed to stoke the fire within me anyway. I pulled the trigger.
“Did I get it?”
Dax was smiling this time, as in a full smile with teeth and everything. “Yeah, you got it.”
Chapter 9
My entire body felt stiff this morning, but I didn’t care. Dax had warned me after practice yesterday that I would be. He’d said using magic was like working all the muscles in your body at once, and it took some time to get used to it. I think the only reason he said anything was he figured I might mistake the soreness for a symptom of the Bloody Death returning, and I’d disappear in the middle of the night.
He was right. It was hard not to think the disease might return one day
and I’d be responsible for taking out all of the people around me. But knowing what caused this soreness made me want it to hurt more. I was on the brink of greatness, and this pain was paving the way.
There was a knock on my door before I heard Dax say, “Be ready in ten. We’re making a run. Pack a bag, too.”
“Got it,” I yelled back. Did he actually ever sleep? I sure hadn’t last night. I’d barely been able to call it quits as the sun was setting, and then after I’d come up to bed last night, I’d concentrated on the burning magic I could call forth.
Even spending another day in the bushes, like it seemed I’d be doing, didn’t dent my good mood. I was like happiness forged in steel. You just couldn’t bang this good mood out of shape.
I threw on my work clothes, basically the only thing I wore anymore, so it was a good thing Fudge had wrangled me up a couple spares. I didn’t consider myself a dress type of girl, not anymore, and especially not white ones. The leather pants and tank tops were much more fitting to who I was now and who I was becoming. I tucked my knives into place, one that I hung off my hip and another tucked into my boot, and got ready to go count Dark Walkers.
By the time I got ready and had my bag, Dax was waiting outside for me. He reached for my stuff, strapping it onto the bike, and I climbed on. Even his lack of details wasn’t bugging me today. Nothing and no one was budging this mood.
We’d barely made it out of the gate when he stopped the bike.
“You can’t do that while we’re driving,” he said as soon as the engine quieted.
I cleared my throat and said, “Stop what?” No way he knew.
“I get that you want to practice, but you can’t do it while you’re sitting right behind me.”
Damn, he did know. “Sorry. Just thought it was a good use of time to practice, and all.”
“That’s fine, but turn it off.”
I cleared my throat. He hadn’t told me how to do that. Maybe if I didn’t think of it?
He shook his head a few minutes later. We were still sitting in the same place. “If you can’t squash it, blow it out.”
“Blow it out?”
“Take a deep breath and then blow it out as quick and strong as you can.”
I nodded, not that he could see me where I sat behind him. I did as he asked, filling my lungs beyond capacity, and then blew out harshly. When I did, the branches on some nearby trees rustled.
“Did I do that?”
“Yes,” he said, seeming a little more agitated than he was a minute ago.
Still didn’t bother me. Nothing could. I was walking on clouds today.
* * *
We stopped a few times for a couple meals of jerky before we settled down for the night in the middle of nowhere. Dax started a fire and I bundled up my bag to use as a pillow. A huge tree not far from us caught my attention, and I stared at it, trying to figure out what was drawn on its trunk.
“There’s an R carved into that tree,” I said. Who would come here and carve random letters into trees?
“It marks the territory we’re in as owned,” Dax said from where he was settled down not far from me.
“Should we be on it, then?”
“It’s fine. I know the owner.”
Not surprising. Dax seemed to know a lot of people, good, bad, and shady.
“When are we going to get to this place?” I asked, wondering how many of Fudge’s meals I’d miss. If I was this happy on jerky, imagine life like this with her cooking? Plus, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d traveled this far for a hole.
“Tomorrow morning.” He lay down, his eyes shutting for the night.
“You’re not going to scout the area?”
“No.”
I guessed he felt safe enough. I laid my head down and dreamt I heard wind chimes as I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
I shot awake feeling like I couldn’t breathe, even as my chest expanded. My eyes sought out Dax, lying a few feet away. He already was giving me his full attention, probably because I’d sprung up like I’d been attacked.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he leaned closer.
“Just a dream,” I said. I didn’t know if I’d woken him or he’d already been awake. I felt better knowing he was there, even if I didn’t share what woke me.
It had been the strangest dream I’d ever had. I’d awoken to the feeling that I was encased in cement. It felt as if someone had taken as much rock and sand as the Cement Giant’s wall had contained and smothered me underneath it, burying me alive. My skin felt damp, like I was feverish, even in the morning chill.
He nodded and settled back down where he was, a few inches closer to me now.
I settled my head on the makeshift pillow as I tried to get my heartbeat to stop thudding like a spooked horse, thundering away from a perceived threat.
An hour later, the sky only showing the first signs of dawn, I heard Dax get up. “If you aren’t going to sleep, let’s get going.”
I grabbed my bag and headed toward a stream we weren’t far from. No matter how much water I splashed on my face, I couldn’t lose the feeling that something was off, like the dream was clinging to me even now.
I could see Dax watching me, knowing something was off, but he didn’t say anything, and I was climbing on the back of the bike soon after.
We pulled up in front of a large metal door, a monstrosity of a thing that stood about twenty feet high by fifteen feet wide, less than an hour later. The only place that I didn’t see dents were the spots covered with too much rust to show. Still, even for its dilapidated state, it looked solid. It was as if the rust were merely a facade hiding the strength below. Like an old bruiser who might have been past his prime but could still throw a serious beat-down. The brick wall that framed it added to the overwhelming feel that if you wanted in this place, it was going to be by invitation only.
This was definitely not a hole.
“Why are we here?” I asked, wondering if we were looking for an invite ourselves after what he’d said at dinner the other night. I didn’t want an invite. I wasn’t looking to leave the farmhouse, at least not yet. We’d killed all the threats that had come by the farm. Didn’t that buy us a little more time? Hopefully? Couldn’t we kill a few more if necessary?
“This place is called the Rock. It’s one of the communities I trade with.”
I should’ve realized we weren’t going to a hole hours ago. No one traveled at night, and it wasn’t something he’d had us do to watch a hole in a while. People were afraid to travel after the sun went down, and if you weren’t scared, it marked you as something different, something other than what everyone else was. That wasn’t the type of sticking out you wanted to do in the Wilds. If you didn’t blend, you were a target. Not that Dax had to worry about defending himself, but it could lead to other unwanted questions.
“I’m glad they like to trade, but why are we here? Like me, specifically?” Dax disappeared all the time, maybe to places like this. I wouldn’t know, though, since not once had he invited me along for the ride, or anywhere for that matter, unless it was something to do with Dark Walkers.
Ahhh, now it made sense. This did have something to do with Dark Walkers. I was here to vet this place, label it as being clean of the monsters or point the suckers out. That led me to my next conclusion. Would he care unless we might come and stay here? Was the person in charge of this place going to vet me and decide if I got an invitation?
I realized Dax hadn’t bothered to answer my question, but I didn’t really need him to anymore.
“You could’ve at least warned me. I would’ve brushed my hair.” I ran a couple fingers through the knots, not sure if I was improving it or making it crazier.
He tilted his head, giving me a shot of his profile where he sat in front of me. “I thought you only did that on Sundays?” A dimple poked through, melting a little bit of the glacier.
What he said wasn’t true. I actually brushed it every day, not t
hat anyone could tell. It had a mind of its own. “I would’ve done it a day early,” I said, joking back.
A loud grinding sound filled the air as the old fighter let down his guard and the metal door creaked open a crack. We watched as the door continued to open, moving slower than a slug crawling along a riverbank. I hoped it was safe inside, because this would be one lousy emergency exit.
“I thought maybe it would be nice to show you around,” he said, finally answering my question with a load of bull before he gave the bike a little gas. We moved forward slowly, which was too fast for my taste, as I didn’t care to be behind any wall ever again. I rested my gloved hands on Dax’s waist as we entered the Rock.
The place was a lot more inviting on the inside than the exterior had led me to believe, but not enough to make me forget about the walls. There were rows of moderate-sized houses and a lake in the distance. It reminded me a bit of some of the pictures I’d seen in books of the Glory Years, before the Bloody Death had left its scars.
In those pictures, people would be out on boats and fishing, and it wasn’t even for dinner. I’d read that they did it recreationally back then. Unbelievably, they would throw their dinner back in the water and try and catch it again. I guess it shouldn’t be a shock that most of that DNA had died off. Who threw away their own dinner? Sometimes I really didn’t understand those people.
Dax stopped the bike in front of one of the larger buildings in the center of the houses. I got off and spun around, taking it all in. The only word I could come up with was charming as I looked around at the houses and benches with flowerpots beside them. There were kids playing in the street, and I thought about how it must have been back then, when places like this supposedly existed everywhere. Even the people walking around, a lot of them looking like Dax and I but not quite as scary, didn’t ruin the utopia-like picture painted.
Dax kicked out the stand on his bike and walked over to me where I was standing in the middle of the street. “It was a gated vacation community during the Glory Years.”
The Hunt (The Wilds Book Two) Page 6
