It makes me wonder if Joe’s wife is speaking to him again. I’m in no position to judge, but that man went through hell to keep her and their son alive after Pearce snatched them. And if it’s true that he put them on Pearce’s radar in the first place by standing up to AbGen, isn’t it also true that he did it to create a better world for their son… their potentially talented son? But it’s not my place to point that out to her. I just hope Nora told her, because Joe is as smitten with the pair of them as anyone I’ve ever seen.
“We should get moving too,” I tell Scott, with a quick glance at the clock hanging above the door. “Don’t want to be late for our glorious leader’s little assessment.”
“Tactful as ever, Anna,” Nathan says, rolling his eyes, then helps himself to the lone sausage remaining on Scott’s plate. The tracker makes to slap his hand away, but Nathan grins and crams the food into his mouth. Boys.
Actually, I’m quite looking forward to catching up with Callum, the Ishmaelians’ head trainer. It’s just a shame Ephraim’s insisting on being there to watch. You’d think he’d have had enough personal demonstrations of my power by now.
We head outside and start walking – Ephraim has chosen a site about half a mile from the base. Apparently, the inconvenience of me taking the base’s electrical equipment offline is of greater concern than the risk of exposure. Well, I suppose that’s not fair. Any unexplained power cuts could draw AbGen’s attention down on us, and the Ishmaelians aren’t ready for that. Not even close. Not yet.
I can see why Ephraim chose this location for their new hideout – the base backs onto a small woodland, where no-one flying a drone overhead is likely to catch footage of something they shouldn’t. The rebels have always been somewhat lax on exposure risks. If nothing else, I’m glad to see they’ve started taking it a little more seriously.
It might matter that I have no idea whereabouts in the woods they are, if I didn’t have my own personal tracker by my side. He wraps a protective arm around my waist, so I know we must be getting close. For a moment I just enjoy the physical contact, leaning into him, and then with a sigh I start scanning the trees ahead. I make out a figure, and a second one, and then a moment later we emerge into a small opening – a misshapen circle of trees surrounding a rugged grass patch. And inside the patch of grass is a large group of people. Seven, to be exact. Which is five more than I was expecting.
I stop in my tracks, and Scott positions himself slightly in front of me, shielding me with his body. I don’t roll my eyes because he means well, and honestly, it feels nice to have someone wanting to put themselves between me and danger for a change.
“What is this?” he demands, looking round the group and picking out Ephraim.
“Please,” Ephraim says with a benign smile – which I don’t trust in the slightest – and spreads his hands in a placating gesture. “Do not panic. We would simply like a demonstration of Anna’s combat prowess. I assure you, we mean you no harm.”
“A little warning might be nice next time,” I grumble, stepping from behind Scott.
“Noted.”
“Anna, Scott, good to see you again.” Callum steps forward with a broad smile on his face. His tousled dirty-blond hair makes him look younger than his thirty-four years. He offers a hand and Scott clasps it warmly. “I mean it,” he adds, holding my eye. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
I’m not sure I’d go so far as ‘okay’, but I return his smile and thank him anyway. It’s good to know we still have some friends here. I can’t help but feel we’re going to need them.
“Alright, Ephraim,” I say. “What did you have in mind?”
“You claim to be a weapon, Ms Mason – I’d like a little demonstration. I assume that won’t be a problem?”
“Not at all.”
I roll out my shoulders with a feral grin, running a critical eye over the group. Assuming Callum and Ephraim won’t be taking part in this test, that leaves me with five targets. All male, well-built, and presumably talented. This should be fun.
“Then whenever you’re ready.”
One of the group looks a couple of years younger than the rest, and is looking like he’s already regretting his decision to volunteer. That makes him my first target – I’ll take him out before he finds his confidence.
I don’t hesitate. I let my eyes fix on one of the others, then reach for the fear inside me and shift behind Mr Nervous. None of them have ever seen me shift before, and I can tell you, you see a woman vanish in front of your eyes, it takes some getting used to, and I don’t care if you’ve been told it’s about to happen – it’s still going to catch you unawares. I slam an elbow down into the back of his neck before any of them can gather their wits, and he drops like a stone. I grin. One down, four to go.
The obvious move is to go after the guy on the right – the one who’s jaw is still hanging and who hasn’t even managed to get his guard-hand up. I don’t take it. Obvious is a mistake, and mistakes are expensive. I don’t still need to be living in a cage to know that.
Instead, I shift behind the guy in the middle, grab hold of his arm, and shift him a quarter-mile away. While he’s still retching, I shift back to the group. He’ll be busy for a while.
My shift drops me neatly behind the guy who was on the right. His companions’ eyes go wide, and as he starts to spin round I sweep his legs out from under him. I could shift him out of here like the other one, but like it or not, this is a trial and I need to impress these guys, not to mention Ephraim. He hits the deck hard, knocking the wind out of him. It should buy me a couple of seconds, and that’s all I’m going to need.
I leap over him as he curls up, gasping for breath, and launch myself at one of the remaining two targets. It’s been less than fifteen seconds since Ephraim gave me the go-ahead to attack, but that’s a lifetime in a fight. Both men are ready for me, and I’m still mid-air when I realise that this attack isn’t going to work. They’ll block my attack and put me down while I’m still off-balance. Not an option.
I shift mid-air. I’ve only done it once before, and that ended badly for me. But I don’t shift far – just from in front of the target to behind him. I land a flurry of punches before he’s even worked out where they’re coming from, and by that time I’m gone. Hard to fight someone who’s not there.
Guy-on-the-floor is hauling himself to his feet so I give him a tap on the chin and put him back down while dumb and dumber are still trying to work out where I am. I can’t keep this up forever. These shifts are killing me but I’m not about to let Ephraim’s buddies get the better of me.
One of my two remaining opponents – the blond one, not the one I used as a punch bag – has gathered his wits and is advancing on me warily, hands up in a classic boxer’s stance. Which is great, because it leaves his entire lower body exposed. Pearce trained me to fight hard, not clean, so I close the gap between us and slam my knee between his legs. His mouth opens in an “O” of surprise and he hits the deck.
I spin round and almost get my head taken off by a foot flying through the air. I duck at the last second, but not quickly enough to avoid a glancing blow. My head spins, but I grit my teeth and sway backwards in time to avoid the follow-up. A pair of punches fly towards my face, lethal and on target, and I thrust up my arms in time to block them before they can hit my lights out switch. The force knocks me backwards, and my lips twitch, hiding a smile. He’s all brute force, direct attacks. He’ll expect me to keep backing up under his power. So I do. For two more steps. And then I explode forward, ducking under his punch and slamming a fist into his solar plexus. My knee comes up as his head comes down, and connects with his chin. Ouch. He’s going to feel that one in the morning. I let him drop to the floor but I’m gone before he hits it.
My final shift takes me behind Callum. I wrap an arm around the instructor’s neck and pull him backwards off balance.
“I yield!” he says, raising his hands with a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Three
&
nbsp; By the time the first of the Ishmaelians have assembled ready to begin their combat training, word about my little demonstration in the woods has already made it round the base. Half of them are watching me from the corners of their eyes with a mix of awe and fear, and the rest are still steadfastly ignoring me. Which is fine, because the role of instructor isn’t exactly one I’m keen to step into. Fortunately, Scott and Nathan will be taking charge of this training session, with me, Helen and Duncan assisting. AbGen trained all of us in unarmed combat, and Duncan learned to fight the hard way. Joe’s set up a makeshift firing range on the edge of the treeline. We don’t have long to take this bunch of unfit, untrained and undisciplined rebels and turn them into a sleek fighting force, so we plan to hit the ground running. Today we’ll assess them all and divide them according to whatever natural skills they have. They’ll all get basic training, but we don’t have time to turn them all into skilled martial artists, expert marksmen, and tacticians. We have to strike at Pearce before he finds us, and we have to do it soon.
“Come on then, general,” Nathan says. “Inspire your troops.”
Helen elbows him in the ribs – too gently, I think – and he laughs.
“Do I need to salute you now, or should I just bow?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a salute for you,” I retort, giving him two fingers.
“I’m wounded. Is that any way to treat a comrade-in-arms?”
“You’re about to become a comrade with no arms, if you don’t watch it,” I threaten.
“Just trying to help you relax.”
Huh. What do you know? It almost worked. I mean, I’m still a nervous wreck, but I don’t feel like I’m about to puke, so that’s progress.
“Alright, listen up!” I shout at no-one in particular, and the clearing immediately falls silent. A girl could get used to this sort of power. Except now they’re all staring at me, and my throat is starting to close up. I cough and then swallow – almost choking myself in the process. Great. God dammit, they’re just people. I didn’t have a problem facing them all down when they wanted to kick me and Scott out of here, I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much now. I clear my throat and try again.
“You’re all here to learn the basics of combat. We don’t have time to teach you everything we know, but we’ll teach you everything you need to know to get out of a tight spot. The first thing we’re going to cover is getting someone to let go of you.”
They look less than impressed by this suggestion – in fact I can see a couple at the back starting to drift off, and one guy is actually yawning. I smother the urge to use him for a demonstration, because I need to turn this lot into a fighting force, not a load of inpatients at the local hospital.
“It might not seem as glamourous as punching through an inch-thick piece of wood, but trust me, it’s going to be a lot more useful. Agents tend not to stand around holding planks of wood for you to hit.”
A couple of them give something that could almost be considered a smile, it you’re feeling generous. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
“I’ll demonstrate, then you can pair up and try it out yourselves. Nathan, grab hold of me.”
Because, you know, I’ve gotta pay him back for his smartass remarks somehow, and it might as well be in front of half the base. The look of indifference falls from his face.
“Maybe you should grab hold of me,” he suggests.
“Chicken?” I arch an eyebrow, and he squares his jaw, and then his shoulders, then moves to stand in front of me in the grassy clearing.
“Hardly,” he says, plastering a cocky smile onto his face that I’m going to take great pleasure in removing. “Just didn’t want to make you look bad.”
He rushes me, moving fast for such a big man, and locks one meaty hand around my neck, fists the other around a handful of my top, and uses his momentum to drive me back, keeping me off-balance. Or trying to.
I let him have the first two steps, then I twist off to one side, using his own momentum and weight against him. Now he’s the one who’s off-balance, and I don’t give him chance to recover. I don’t trip him, even though it’d be easy, because his balance reflex means right now he’s clinging to me like a baby monkey gripping it’s mother’s fur. Tripping him will only make him grip tighter, and take me down with him. Instead, I punch an uppercut into his gut, hard enough that he’ll feel it through the wall of solid muscle. The air rushes out of his lungs in a loud whoosh and he doubles over. His hand drops away from my neck, and I grip hold of the other one – the one that’s wrapped in my clothes. I find the sweet spot in between his thumb and forefinger and squeeze. That hand loosens too, but I don’t let it go. I take a quick step, moving behind him and twisting his arm up behind his back. My leg jams against his, and one quick twist later, he’s on the floor cradling his hand. Make me look bad, indeed.
I smile angelically and offer him my hand. He just chuckles and rolls himself onto his feet.
“At least you didn’t mangle my face this time,” he says, shaking out his hand.
I turn to our audience, who are wearing expressions that range from impressed to horrified.
“Okay, your turn. Pair up.”
*
We drill the Ishmaelians for nearly four hours, until every one of them is drenched in sweat, and more than half of them are sporting bruises. None of them complain, and by the time we finish, some of them are even showing potential. Potential Ephraim has been wasting.
“Well, I reckon it must be about chow time,” Nathan says as we head back inside. Helen eyes him distastefully.
“You might want to take a shower first.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Priorities, woman. Man cannot survive on cleanliness alone. Scott, you’re with me, right?”
“I can smell you from here. You’re on your own, mate.”
A figure steps out of a door ahead of us and hurries down a corridor heading away from us. Ephraim. I was planning to see him later, but there’s no time like the present. I cut Nathan off in the middle of whatever he was saying.
“I’ll catch you guys up.”
Nathan follows the direction of my gaze and raises an eyebrow at me.
“Really, Anna?”
“What? I’ll play nice.” I plaster the most innocent look I can muster on my face, but truth be told I’m a little out of practice at that. Nathan just shakes his head, but Helen gives me a warning look.
“If you’re not back in twenty minutes, we’re coming looking for you.”
At least they trust me not to kill him. That’s something. I hurry down the corridor after the figure before I can lose sight of him.
“Ephraim!”
He stops in his tracks and turns to look at me, his face clouding for a moment when he sees me approaching. Can’t say I blame him, what with the trying to kill him thing. It’d be nice if we could move past that, though. Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe he just hates me.
“Anna, what may I do for you?” His voice has that stoic, almost-bored tone he takes when he’s holding his temper in check. Jeez, and I haven’t even asked him for anything yet. He definitely hates me. But I promised I’d play nice.
“I’ve been looking for Iain, but no-one’s seen him for a while. I was just wondering if you could let me know where he is?”
“No.”
I blink, remind myself I’m playing nice, and try to keep the annoyance from my tone.
“No, you won’t tell me where he is?”
“Can’t,” Ephraim corrects. “I’m unable to tell you where Mr Drake is, as his whereabouts are currently unknown.”
“Unknown?” I swallow and my eyebrows knit together. “You mean, he’s missing?”
“That is what I said, is it not?”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, because I’m about done with his patronising bullshit, and God dammit, my friend is missing and in who knows what trouble. I grit my teeth and grind out;
“And when were you going to tell me?�
�
“I wasn’t.”
“Because he’s ‘ungifted’?” I scowl in disgust. Ishmaelian prejudice against humans without talents runs deep.
“Because he’s one of ours,” Ephraim replies, fixing me with a fierce stare. “And you’re not.”
I don’t know what shocks me more – the fact that Ephraim considers Iain an Ishmaelian, despite his lack of a talent, or that he’s actually showing some sort of emotion. Things have changed round here.
“Well, what are you doing to find him?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It bloody well is my concern, Ephraim, and you know it. He’s my friend. Just tell me what I can do to help. You don’t think...” My throat goes dry and I have to force the words out. “You don’t think Pearce has him?”
Iain is a good man. A kind man. Pearce would eat him alive. A look of pity shadows Ephraim’s face, and I’m too terrified to take offence. After an eternity he shakes his head.
“No, I believe not. He has no reason to target an ungifted.”
I exhale sharply and nod. He’s right. Pearce prefers his victims to be talented, and female. Easier to “bend”, he claims. Truth be told, I’m in no position to dispute that particular fact, so I toss it in a box with all the other things I’d rather not think about, and ask the obvious question.
“So where is he, then?”
“If we knew that, Ms Mason,” Ephraim answers dryly, “we would not be having this conversation.”
I roll my eyes but stop short of stamping my foot – if only because it would be a whole lot more satisfying to stamp on his face, and I’m prone to overindulging.
“There are better uses of your time and talents than trying to track down one man. I suggest you engage in them.”
Unleashed (TalentBorn Book 4) Page 16
