The others are loitering. I am so not sparring with an audience.
Rafa turns to Mya. ‘You finished in here?’
She looks between him and me. ‘For the moment.’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘We’ll need all this space.’
MUSCLE MEMORY
The room clears out and we’re alone, except for Ez and Zak.
‘Did you know Mya has Jude’s laptop?’ Rafa asks Ez.
‘I thought he took it with him?’
‘Apparently not. It’s what she dangled in front of Gabe to get us here.’
She frowns. ‘How come she’s never mentioned it?’
‘My point exactly.’
He kicks off his shoes and walks over to the practice mats.
My sword is almost out of the weapons bag when Ez stops me. ‘You know what you’re doing with that. I hear it’s hand-to-hand combat you need a refresher on.’
I put the katana back. It might be slender, but it’s enough to hide behind. Bare fists? I may as well be naked. ‘Am I sparring with you?’
‘No.’ She nods in Rafa’s direction.
Crap.
‘What are you and Zak going to do?’
‘Stay out of the way.’
I join Rafa on the mats, barefoot. He steps back into a fighter’s stance, not speaking. I do the same and we circle each other. Neither of us makes the first move. I don’t attack him because I’m not sure how. I have no idea what his excuse is.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Rafa’s movements are purposeful, controlled. ‘Are you telling me you don’t want to hit me?’
I give myself away with a small smile.
‘Then come at me.’
‘You’re not pissing me off right this second.’
‘Do you want me to?’
I think about that, keep my feet moving. ‘No.’
‘You’ve always fought better with a clear head,’ Zak breaks in from somewhere behind me. ‘You shouldn’t have to get wound up to fight.’
‘That’s very true, Zachariah,’ Rafa says, not taking his eyes from me, ‘but our girl here has only fought when she’s wound up. Look at her, she doesn’t know what to do without that fuel.’
It grates on me, but he’s right.
‘Then attack her.’
He hesitates for a moment—and I swear I see conflict in his eyes—and then he sweeps my legs out from under me so fast I don’t see it coming. I hit the floor hard. Air deserts my lungs.
‘Get up,’ Zak says.
I spring to my feet. Damn he’s scary when he lowers that voice.
Rafa comes at me again, this time with a lightning roundhouse kick. I lift my forearms to block it, more instinct than premeditation.
‘That’s it,’ Ez says. ‘Clear your mind. Trust your body.’
I flick a quick glance at her. She obviously doesn’t know my body can’t be trusted, especially around Rafa—
BAM.
I’m on the floor again, fire exploding across my ribs. What the hell?
‘Fuck, Gabe, are you concentrating or daydreaming?’ As if it’s my fault he’s hurt me.
I get up. ‘Sorry,’ I say, with as much sarcasm as I can muster. My ribs throb in dull waves.
Rafa comes at me again, rapid-fire kicks and hand strikes. I try to forget it’s him and concentrate on blocking and countering. He’s pushing me back, but at least I’m protecting myself. We move around the room.
‘Attack him,’ Zak says.
‘How?’ I bring my forearms up to stop an elbow to my face.
‘Stop thinking.’
I drop and kick out at Rafa’s knee with a side strike. He loses his feet. Holy shit, I’ve knocked Rafa down. It throws me for a second. Long enough for him to roll over and slam his bare foot into my solar plexus. I stumble back into Zak. It’s like hitting a brick wall. He steadies me with big hands.
‘Focus on your body,’ he says.
I take a breath, shift my awareness. Count the beats of my heart against my ribs. Flex my fingers.
And then I feel it: strength, pulsing with each beat. Rephaite strength. I had a taste of it at the Imperial, but I haven’t felt it like this since the fight on the mountain. And in the cage.
We go at it again. Rafa attacks faster. I’m vaguely aware my reflexes ramp up to match his. Punch, block, kick, block, strike, duck. Breathe. Zak gets out of the way.
It’s like remembering steps to a dance.
I leap at Rafa, my right knee angled down towards his thigh. He steps back to avoid it, but somehow I knew that’s what he’d do and I’m ready for it. Before my feet touch down, I punch him in the jaw. Hard. He staggers back. I wait for the explosion of anger. But he only nods, his skin red where I struck him. ‘Better.’
We go again. And again. My t-shirt clings to me. Blood pounds at my temples. But I feel strong, focused. We keep going. Rafa peels off his shirt, wipes his neck with it. His skin glistens.
His attacks get harder; his aggression is building. He’s wearing me down. Another kick to the thigh, another elbow between my shoulderblades. I’m vaguely aware of Ez saying something about easing up, but either Rafa doesn’t hear or he ignores her, because the onslaught continues. I’m in a world of pain. I fend off a fresh flurry of strikes. My forearms throb, my ribs ache. I can’t take this for much longer.
I block a kick, see an opening, and punch Rafa in the jaw as hard as I can. His head snaps back—and then my legs are gone from under me again. I slam onto my back and the air rushes out of my lungs. The bare bulb on the ceiling blurs and then all I see is Rafa, red-faced, sweating. He straddles me, pins my arms and legs.
My chest is heaving. We’re both trying to catch our breath. His grip tightens on my arms. His eyes are strangely distant as he stares at me. I can’t read his expression and it’s freaking me out a little.
‘You win,’ I manage, between breaths.
A bead of sweat runs from his hairline down the side of his face.
Footsteps cross the mats. ‘That’ll do,’ Zak says. ‘Rafa.’
Rafa looks up at Zak and his face clears. He nods and lets go. Then he stands up and goes to Ez, takes the water bottle she offers.
Zak helps me up. ‘Not bad,’ he says, and I catch a quick glance in Rafa’s direction. ‘You’re a little rusty, but your reflexes are still sharp.’
I cradle my right hand. It throbs and my knuckles are split and bleeding from that last punch.
Rafa screws the lid on the water bottle, turns around and tosses it to me. I catch it with my good hand.
‘You’ll want those bumps and bruises gone before we get to LA.’ Ez checks me over. She turns to Rafa. ‘You want me to take care of Gaby and Zak can fix that?’ She gestures to his jaw, which is already discoloured.
He probes the bruise. ‘Yep.’ He meets my gaze, fleetingly. ‘You okay?’
I nod and two seconds later he and Zak are gone. The imprint of their bare feet lingers on the mat.
My legs shake from fatigue. I drop back to the floor, stretch out my hamstrings. The air conditioners rattle in the empty room. The mat sighs beneath me.
What the hell just happened?
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Ez asks.
I show her my busted knuckles. ‘I think I’ve broken something.’
She frowns. ‘That got out of hand. He shouldn’t have gone so hard on you.’
‘He’s pissed off at me for coming here.’ I carefully cross my legs, not looking at her. The adrenaline is fading now, leaving me feeling strangely fragile. Lost.
Ez drops gracefully to the floor next to me. I catch a hint of orange blossom. ‘It’s a little more complicated than that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Sparring with you. I don’t think he was ready for it.’
I try to laugh but it comes out as a rasp.
‘I mean it. You haven’t trained together for a very long time. For the last decade, any time you two threw punches at each other, you were deadly serious.’ She tucks her feet underneath her. ‘The problem today was that you were too good.’
‘How is that a problem?’ I finally look up.
She gives me a sad smile.
‘There were moments when you fought like the old Gabe. I think at the end there, he forgot which version of you he was fighting.’
NOT EVERYTHING COMES CLEAN
We shift to the showers. The communal bathroom is big enough for a small army. One wall is lined with wash basins, the other with shower cubicles; the place reeks of bleach and disinfectant.
By the time I’m peeling off my clothes and getting under the warm water, my muscles have mostly stopped complaining. The water pressure is strong, insistent.
I’m okay.
My throat tightens. God, who am I kidding. I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.
My hands shake when I pick up the shampoo. I drop the bottle as I try to open it. I wash my hair and let the water stream over my face, keeping my lips closed so I don’t swallow any of it. Try to settle back into my body. Lazy steam envelops me. Maybe I could stay in here until we go to LA. I’m not sure if I can even look at Rafa right now, and I definitely don’t want to talk to any of the others. All I see is that distant look in his eyes. I feel myself hitting him. I feel him hitting me. The beach feels far away.
I turn off the tap when my skin starts to prune. Ez is still under the water two stalls down. I dry myself and put on lightweight trackpants and a t-shirt, step out of the cubicle.
Mya is leaning against the nearest basin, waiting.
Perfect.
‘Zak tells me your training session wasn’t a complete disappointment,’ she says, glancing at my knuckles, which are bruised but no longer raw, thanks to the short shift from the training room.
I wring my hair out behind my back and her eyes drift to the scar on my neck. I don’t need to check the mirror to know it’s bright red, angry: it always is after a shower. I square my shoulders. Keep it together. Don’t let her see how shaky I am.
‘Did you come here to gloat?’
She folds her arms. ‘About what?’
‘You got what you wanted: Rafa back.’
‘He’s here. He’s not back.’ She pushes off from the basin, turns on a tap. Water gushes out, splashes over the edge onto the tiles. She wrenches it off again. ‘How did you find Jason?’
I take a breath. I don’t understand why she’s so obsessed with Jason, but it’s better than talking about Rafa.
‘He turned up in Pan Beach a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t let on who he was until Maggie was kidnapped.’
‘Where’s he been all these years? How did he work out what he was and who taught him to shift?’
‘Ask him yourself next time you see him.’ My fingers are still trembling, so I dry my hair with the towel to keep them busy. ‘How did you work it out?’
‘The hard way. How did Jason find you?’
‘He read the story I posted online.’ It’s not a complete lie. He probably did read it at some point.
‘It’s interesting it was one of Jude’s memories you wrote about, not your own. You ever wonder how that’s possible?’
I don’t answer her.
Mya walks along the row of basins, testing taps as she goes. At the third sink she turns again. ‘I can’t believe you get to have a clean slate, like nothing you’ve done counts any more.’
‘I didn’t ask for any of this. I was doing fine with the life I had.’
I was doing fine. Aside from the gnawing grief for Jude and the nightmares about hell-beasts and the loneliness that threatened to swallow me most nights.
‘You don’t care that you and Jude might have triggered a war?’
The prophesied war between angels and demons.
‘Ah, no.’
She tilts her head. ‘You don’t care about Nathaniel’s obsession with winning back favour from the Angelic Garrison?’
‘No.’
Her eyebrows go up, mocking me. ‘Wow, either you’re really not Gabe any more or you’ve got better at lying.’ She runs her fingers through her hair. ‘No wonder Rafa’s so taken with you.’
I feel a pang at his name and warmth floods my chest. Please don’t let it climb my neck.
‘Let’s face it,’ she continues, ‘you’re all the good bits of Gabe with none of the bad.’
She’s baiting me. There’s no way I’m biting. There’s no way—
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She leans against the mirror. ‘You and Rafa were tight back in the day, but you’ve been gunning for each other since we left the Sanctuary. And not just because he walked away from Nathaniel. I have a theory about what happened between you two. Would you like to hear it?’
‘Not particularly.’
The reflection of the side of her face in the mirror is beautiful. It’s the only thing about her that is. She keeps talking as if I haven’t spoken.
‘You two did everything together, except the obvious. But I think you were in love with him—deeply in denial of course. You made such a big show about not caring whose legs he was between. Until they were mine.’
‘Really.’ I try to sound bored but that image is searing into my brain. ‘And then, what, I tried to talk him out of being with you—that’s what we fought over?’
As soon as Mya laughs I know I’ve played into her hands. ‘No, I think you tried to hook up with him.’
‘Yeah, right.’ I turn away from the mirror. I hate that I can’t argue with her. And what if she’s right?
Mya pushes on, sensing—and enjoying—my discomfort. ‘And when he knocked you back, you were so humiliated you channelled all that unrequited longing into violence. You two had a massive throw-down just before we left the Sanctuary. What else could it have been about?’
‘Could you be any more self-absorbed?’
‘It’s the only thing that explains why you didn’t leave with us. You couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him with me.’
The water shuts off in Ez’s cubicle. I flinch. I’d forgotten she was still here. From the flush in Mya’s cheeks, she had too.
‘I’m sure there were more important things going on at that point than your sex life.’ I grab a comb and drag it through my damp hair. It pulls at my scalp.
‘You could always ask him…
Gaby
.’
I catch glimpses of her in all the mirrors above the basins as she walks out the door.
In the silence, I can hear water dripping in Ez’s cubicle.
‘You can come out now,’ I say.
She steps out in a waft of jasmine, fully dressed and hair combed. She gives a self-conscious shrug. ‘I kept the water running to give you privacy.’
‘But you heard it all? Explain to me why she’s in charge here.’
‘She’s not in charge. She coordinates operations—someone has to.’