Life After: The Complete Series Page 8

  I took a premeditated swing at Logan, which he narrowly deflected with a staff that instantly appeared in his hands. Using his surprise to my advantage, I twisted fast enough to catch him in the stomach with a back kick that sent him stumbling a few feet. I followed up with a roundhouse kick straight to his shoulder, swinging my staff around and then immediately up, disarming him.

  Before I could savor my victory, Logan dropped low to swipe my feet out from under me, and I landed hard on my back. Even disarmed, Logan was faster, stronger, and more skilled than me. Before I could regroup, he kicked my rod out of my hands and held the blunt end of my own weapon to my throat. He stood above me, breathing as heavily as I. Whether from exertion or anger, I didn’t know.

  Everything happened over a short few seconds, but it felt as if we were locked in that stance for ages. Eventually the rest of the world leaked into my consciousness and I realized we were being watched, but I couldn’t break from Logan’s blue gaze. Our breathing slowed, but neither of us moved an inch.

  “Looks like you have your hands full with that one, Logan,” someone laughed from the newly gathered crowd.

  The laughter broke the tension, and chuckles, followed by a few jokes, were thrown our way. The atmosphere felt noticeably lighter. Logan looked away as he lowered the weapon. He turned to head across the room, picking up his staff on the way. I propped myself up on my elbows to see we’d managed to attract a few dozen people—filing out of the room since the show was clearly over. I was surprised to find that my anger had dissolved. It must have burned off in the fight, and now that it was over, I was exhausted to the bone.

  Romona hunched down to my level, a slight frown on her face.

  “You okay?” she quietly asked.

  “Yeah.” I rolled my right shoulder and instantly regretted it. “I just feel like I’ve been through a cement mixer today.”

  Her features softened, and she gave me a small, comforting smile. I guessed she still didn’t approve of what I’d done. Logan might have dumped me in a pond, but I wasn’t exactly blameless. “It will get better.”

  I looked at her skeptically.

  “I promise,” she continued. “Let me help you up.”

  She stood up and reached a hand down. I grasped it. Even with her help, I struggled to stand.

  “Wow, you are tired, aren’t you?”

  I gave her a half-smile since it was all I could muster. Her brows furrowed in heightened concern.

  “Seriously, can you even make it back to your room?”

  I shrugged a shoulder and turned toward the door. “I’m fine.”

  “Romona, can you give us a minute?”

  The sound of Logan’s voice jolted me. After my fury burned itself out, I’d actually forgotten he was still there.

  Romona only paused for a moment before she nodded. I watched her go. She sent me an encouraging smile before closing the door firmly behind her, blocking out prying eyes. The small burst of energy from hearing Logan speak evaporated, and I was left incredibly weary, so much so that I had a hard time staying on my feet as I turned to face him.

  Standing at a distance, Logan looked somewhat weary himself. Of course, he’d hardly broken a sweat, but his eyes betrayed him. If he wanted to talk, fine, I would let him start.

  He took a big breath of air and ran a hand through his hair before saying anything. “Can we at least call a truce?”

  I gave him what I intended to be a skeptical look. He laughed. A true, genuine, hearty laugh—something I’d not heard from him before now. It was a rich sound that actually eased some of the tension from my shoulders. Man, I was tired.

  “Here.” He materialized a metal folding chair behind me. “Sit down; it looks like you are going to fall over . . . or maybe faint for real?”

  I was a little jealous he could do that so easily.

  “I told you I don’t faint,” I grumbled under my breath, but I didn’t argue as I slid into the metal chair. I was convinced I might fall over at any moment. Part of me was already fantasizing about my bed. If we were going to have this talk, I wanted to channel as much energy as possible into talking rather than staying upright.

  Logan materialized a chair for himself and sat down about an arm’s length away. His motions were deliberate, like someone approaching a spooked animal. He waited a second before speaking. When he’d chosen his first words, his eyes focused and locked with mine. “It seems you retained at least a little of what I’ve been trying to teach you.”

  A pause. I didn’t know how I wanted to respond to that.

  “I mean, your form was sloppy, but you did get in a few solid hits before I disarmed you.”

  I was too tired to be offended and more than a little surprised at being given any sort of praise, even if it was weak. It must have shown on my face.

  “Audrey, I’m not here to antagonize you, you know.” The weariness in his eyes returned as he lifted a hand to run through his hair. “I think we made our points today, probably the wrong way on both sides, but we do need to find a way to work with each other.”

  I was struggling to comprehend. This was the first time Logan had initiated a conversation with me that wasn’t tactical or related directly to a new fighting skill or technique. I could only nod in agreement. No argument from me. What we’d been doing wasn’t working.

  He continued, “You know it’s my job, my responsibility, to make you a fighter. You can’t imagine what you will face out there. You need to be able to defend yourself as well as others. This is only a small fraction of what you will need to ultimately learn. You have no idea the amount of things I need to teach you in a short time.”

  Rather than his usual threats, this sounded more like a plea.

  “Is there going to be a test on this stuff that I don’t know about?” The question may have come out flippant, but I was at least half-serious.

  “There’s no test, Audrey. You go straight from training to the field, where you won’t have the luxury of making mistakes. Any errors or miscalculations will directly affect those you are trying to protect.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “That means that if you screw up, if you forget how to use a weapon or where to deliver the most effective punches, or you run out of energy on a chase, then someone on Earth gets hurt. That could mean yourself or someone on your team as well.”

  This was the most information I’d gotten about being a demon hunter so far. I was intrigued. I wondered if I’d be able to contact anyone I knew on Earth, my family perhaps, if I even had one.

  “We need to find a way for you to tap into your fighting instinct and skills when you aren’t angry.”

  Against my will, I smiled. And because I couldn’t help myself, I said, “Oh, you noticed that, huh?”

  His mouth turned into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Yeah, you’re a mean fighter when you’re mad.”

  We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment as we contemplated our options. For once, Logan was treating me like an equal. I wanted to be careful with my next words.

  “I think,” I finally began, “that I might do better if it wasn’t so serious all the time.”

  I went on quickly because I imagined he was already starting to reject the idea. “I mean, if it didn’t feel so much like a class all the time or if we were friendlier with each other, I would enjoy training a little more, and maybe I’d start to do better.”

  I shrugged and looked to my left, unsure of myself. When I looked back at Logan, he was staring at the wall above my head with what appeared to be a thoughtful look on his face. He didn’t say anything for a while. Finally, he gave himself a small nod and looked me in the eyes. The full effect of his blue stare was always somewhat startling. Despite myself, my stomach did a little flip before settling again.

  “Okay, Audrey, I hear what you’re saying. I have a few ideas. Will you give me another chance to try this out?”

  His face had taken on an intensity that
was overwhelming. I was still slightly leery of his methods, but that he was asking me for anything, rather than demanding, was a change. And right now I was so tired, I probably would have agreed to anything. It felt a little like defeat, but I slowly nodded.

  “But only if you agree not to dump me in any more ponds.”

  His face lightened, and he barked out a short laugh. “Well, I can agree to that. I’m sure I can think of more creative ways to get you motivated in the future. And if not, there are always pools and lakes around here as well.”

  I frowned. He laughed even louder.

  “Don’t look so worried!”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I was beginning to get tunnel vision, so I only nodded and focused on the floor in front of me.

  “Audrey, are you okay?” Logan asked.

  I nodded again without answering. If I could just get to my room, I’d be fine. I shook my head to clear my vision. Logan put a hand on my shoulder, careful not to make any contact with my skin. He may have said my name again, before giving me a little shake. I tried to shrug off his hand. I’d been manhandled enough that day.

  “I just need to get some sleep,” I mumbled and attempted to stand.

  I’d spoken the truth, but my body demanded sleep sooner than I had intended. My legs gave out on the first step, and my tunnel vision narrowed to near blackness. Logan lunged forward to catch me before I hit the ground.

  I must have caught him unawares, because he forgot to materialize protection between our skin. There was a moment of contact when I could almost grasp what he was feeling, but it was swept away with blackness.

  8

  Changes

  “Oh no!” I sat up with a start. I was back in my room. Romona perched comfortably on the corner of my bed, her darker complexion striking against the monochrome white of the room. The last thing I remembered was talking with Logan in the training center.

  “Is Logan here?” My words rushed out in a breathless huff.

  “Nope. He brought you around the back of the training center. I don’t think anyone saw you guys. He asked me to check in on you. We both think it was a case of overexhaustion.”

  I rolled my eyes. She ducked her head to hide her expression. My eyes narrowed.

  “You think this is funny!”

  She coughed and stood up, turning her back on me to walk across the room. “Would Sleeping Beauty like some water?” Even with her face obscured from view I heard the smile in her voice.

  Traitor.

  Romona knelt down and pushed some points on the white wall as I mulled over the fact that Logan had seen me faint . . . again. How badly was he going to hold that over my head?

  A small door swung open in front of Romona, catching my attention. Where did that come from? Craning my neck, I glimpsed a few bottles of something before she grabbed two clear ones and shut the door, which instantly blended back in with the wall.

  “What in the world?”

  I popped out of bed far too quickly and wobbled my first step. I took another step and a half before regaining my footing. Dropping to the floor in front of Romona, I ran my fingers over the flat white surface. Smooth like seamless plastic. “It’s gotta be here somewhere,” I mumbled. I barely registered Romona’s bemusement.

  “Um, Audrey, what exactly are you doing?”

  I lifted my gaze. Romona stood with a bottle in each hand and a look that said I’d grown an extra head. I was on all fours with my face only inches from the wall.

  “How’d you do that with the door? Where did those bottles come from?” I rocked back on my heels.

  “Here, drink this. It’s only water.”

  After I reached up to accept the gift, she motioned toward the wall.

  “It’s your room fridge,” she said. “You just need to push here and here.” She indicated two invisible spots on the wall, then deftly punched them with her fingers. Two spots glowed red momentarily, then a panel swung open and gently bumped into my knee.

  I peered inside at the treasure. Nestled within were five rows and six columns of different colored bottles. I bent my head to look deeper; the bottles appeared to go on infinitely. Already, the clear bottles Romona had taken had been replenished. I giggled. This room was amazing!

  “Shut up!”

  “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  With my head still in the fridge, I said, “Oh no, not you . . . I was just making an exclamation.”

  “Oh, well, I know the variety isn’t that extensive, but once you move out of here, you’ll have a wider selection.”

  I gawked. I couldn’t even name as many different types of cold drinks as were in that fridge.

  Romona startled me out of my musing with an irritated snort. “No one’s told you much about your room, have they?”

  I shook my head. “What ‘they’? Logan just dumped me here the first night, and that was it. There hasn’t been any other ‘they’ to tell me anything. Just you about the closet.”

  Romona let out another perturbed burst of air as I scrambled to my feet and said “boys” under her breath.

  “That explains why this place still looks like a padded cell in an insane asylum.” She crinkled her nose. “Come over here. I’m going to give you a real lesson. This room is a blank canvas. It’s up to you to paint the picture. I think we need to begin with something simple.”

  She drummed her fingers on her bottom lip, considering. “How about we start with the wall color? What color would you like your room to be?”

  Logan’s distinct blue eyes popped into my head.

  “Maybe blue?” I answered hesitantly, turning my face to cover a slight blush.

  “Okay. Can you think of the shade of blue? Exactly what it looks like?”

  “I think so.”

  “Close your eyes and really imagine the color. Feel the shade of it. If you can imagine where you’ve seen that shade before, get a mental picture in your head. Then imagine the color splashed on these walls.”

  She gave me a moment to produce the image in my head. Rather than cobalt eyes, I imagined a bright blue sky with big, fluffy clouds floating in it. We sat in silence for a few minutes until Romona started to laugh lightly.

  “What?” I asked, lids still pressed together to concentrate on keeping the picture.

  “Let me guess—you’re picturing a sky?”

  I took in a quick breath of surprise. “Hey, how’d you . . .” My lips stayed puckered on the word “you” because I opened my eyes and my room was the sky. Not just any sky, but the exact sky I had pictured! The precise shade of startling blue dotted with fluffy marshmallow clouds. And the two-dimensional picture was more than just a mural—the clouds drifted slowly as if a slight breeze nudged them lazily through a summer sky. Staring at the floor, which was also moving sky, had a slightly dizzying effect. I gave my head a good shake to free myself from the vertigo.

  “How in the world did I do that?” I whispered in amazement.

  “I still can’t believe he didn’t tell you anything. I would have done this ages ago if I’d known.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her legs as she settled herself on the bed, launching into teaching mode. “This room is attached to you. Specifically to your imagination. This should be the spot where you feel most comfortable. In many ways it can be whatever you want it to be, whatever you can imagine it to be . . . within some limitations, of course.”

  Throughout the next hour, Romona showed me wonder upon wonder hidden in my four walls. In fact, I learned my room didn’t have to have four walls. It could be almost any shape I wanted. In addition to the mini fridge, I also had a built-in snack bar with everything from potato chips to fresh fruit and even fruit roll-ups. She said the room knew what my favorites were and automatically stocked the selection. I was both grateful and jealous that the room knew my favorites when I didn’t.

  We tweaked the color of my room a bit because the movement of the clouds was disorienting, and I settled on a lighter and more muted shade of motionless silvery-blue
. Romona also helped me materialize some furniture, since I still wasn’t very good at that. I tried and only managed to bring up some loose stuffing. She thought materializing would get easier for me when my memories returned.

  When we were done, I was extremely pleased with the result. My bed had been changed into a four-poster bed of dark mahogany wood, delicately carved with damask designs and scrolling. The bed covers and pillows had been transformed into a pretty shade of lavender with a light damask pattern to match the posts. With just a push of a thought, the bed was still able to magically fold up and disappear into the wall. We created a seating area as well, with comfortable sofa chairs and a low coffee table. I was envisioning a coffeehouse feel, where people could come in and chat and enjoy a few of my super delicious snacks. That is, when I finally made a few more friends.

  I shook my head. What a big bad huntress I was going to make with tea parties in my room. I wondered again what in the world they were thinking, making me a hunter. I couldn’t brush off the suspicion that one day someone would admit a huge mistake had been made and assign me to something more appropriate. Maybe party planning or dress designing?

  Perhaps that was wishful thinking.

  Romona interrupted my thoughts. “What are you thinking about? You have a strange look on your face.”

  I shook my head and smiled ruefully. “Oh, just that it’s obvious someone made a colossal mistake. Look at this place. It’s definitely more pretty-pretty princess than bloodthirsty demon hunter.”

  Romona frowned. She looked hurt, which puzzled me. I hoped I hadn’t offended her. She was the only person who had truly taken the time to get to know me, and I would hate to have said something to make her unhappy.

  “No, Audrey. Mistakes like that don’t happen here. Ever,” she said. Her eyes avoided mine. “Being a huntress doesn’t mean you’re not feminine anymore. It does mean, however, that you have something valuable to bring to the table. It means you were specifically created for the job. You might not see it now, but I believe you will eventually. Not everything about being a hunter relies on brute strength and agility.”