Lost Girl: Hidden Book One (11 page)

He didn’t answer.

“Please,” I heard the desperation in my voice, and hated it. I felt tears threatening, fought them back.

“How about this?” he finally asked. “We work on making your control so complete that there is no danger of you losing yourself?”

“I will work on it. But I still need you to promise me.”

I met his eyes. His jaw clenched. Frustration. A terse nod, and I felt a little bit of the weight lift off of my shoulders.

If I’d thought that training with Nain was an exercise in misery before, it was worse now that he’d devoted himself to “Operation: Control.” When I wasn’t working, and I wasn’t out prowling the streets and looking for lost girls, I was with Nain.

I was getting rather sick of him.

“Again,” he commanded. We were sparring on the roof of the loft. It was easily nearing a hundred degrees, heat shimmering off of the roof around us. While Brennan taught me a more martial arts style of fighting, Nain’s style was closer to how I normally fought — street fighting, i.e., use what you’ve got, fight dirty if you have to.

So we fought. And every time one of us (usually me) lost, we’d just start again. But it wasn’t just physical fighting. We fought mentally at the same time. I maintained my mental shield, kept him out of my mind, and kept my temper and my demon in control while I worked at not getting my ass kicked by him.

It was exhausting.

He was brutal. In every way. Six feet, six inches and three hundred pounds of what seemed like nothing but muscle versus all five foot four, one hundred thirty-ish pounds of me. He did not let up on punches or kicks the way I knew Brennan did when he felt me tiring. He hammered at my psyche, threw insults at me verbally and mentally. He exploited every weakness he knew I had, until every nerve was raw, every emotion I’d ever had was magnified by about a thousand-fold. And here we were, doing it again.

He got me down, pinned me again, making it clear I was immobilized and very much defeated, and I shoved at him. Nain got up and walked over to the table, started guzzling a bottle of water. Sweat soaked his gray t-shirt. I glared at him as I grabbed my own water bottle.

“Any reason we’re not doing this in the nice, air-conditioned loft?” I asked, pulling my own shirt away from my sticky body.

“Aw, is the little princess sweaty? Poor baby,” he said, taking another drink of water.

I gave him the finger. And he ignored it.

“How often do you fight in nice, air-conditioned places?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. Knew he was right.

“I hate you. You know this, right?” I said as I walked across the roof to where the chaise lounges were. My body was healing itself, and I needed to sit. My head pounded, but I was getting used to the pain. Where it had been debilitating before, it was merely an annoyance after the last couple of weeks with Nain.

I closed my eyes and let my body do its thing. It burned, like always. Muscles repaired themselves, fractures (yeah, I had them, always, after going a few rounds with Mr. Congeniality) knitted together, fresh skin regenerated, leaving scrapes, cuts, and bruises nothing more than a memory. I could feel my body shifting, flowing, the sensation not unlike being pulled apart from the inside out.

I felt Nain walk past me and settle into the chaise lounge near mine. He was quiet for a few seconds. “Your control’s getting a lot better, Molls,” he said.

“I still hate you.”

He laughed. “Do you think that bothers me?”

“No. But it makes me feel better to say it.”

I felt a small spike of irritation from him, and I smiled, eyes still closed against the blazing sun.

“You do that on purpose,” he said, annoyed.

“What?” All innocence.

“Try to get a rise out of me and then gloat when you manage to.”

“Payback is a bitch.”

Nain went silent and broody. We sat there for a while. He was still irritated. He was tired, and in pain. I forgot sometimes that, demon or not, he didn’t have a healing factor like I did. And I might be lacking in the verticality department, and the muscle department, and the experience department, but I pack a mean punch thanks to my power. I gave as good as I got.

Well….almost.

I glanced over at him. His arm was over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. His other hand rested on his stomach. Knuckles bruised, scraped up, from fighting me. Swollen lip, black eye, again, from me. And probably many bruises on his chest and stomach from me, too.

The bastard had earned every one of them.

“Like I was saying. Your control is getting really good,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t you think it’s time to start using your powers again?”

I answered him with silence, felt his irritation spike.

“You’ve kept a lid on it, Molls. You’ve worked really hard. I’ve done everything in my power to enrage you, and you’ve kept a tight rein on your demon. We need you.”

“It was still you, though. I wouldn’t kill you,” I mumbled.

“Why not? I thought I was pretty much first on your shit list.” I heard the smile in Nain’s voice, more than saw it. Felt satisfaction from him.

“Don’t get too pleased with yourself,” I muttered. “You are. But I still don’t want to kill you.”

“Aww. She really does care,” he said, tone laced with sarcasm. I glared over at him, shot a blast of energy at his chaise lounge, sending both him and the chair crashing to the roof deck.

Nain laughed as he picked himself up. “There she is. The bitch is back.”

“I’m not using them out there. No.”

He shoved me over, sat on the edge of my chaise lounge. “Molly. I’m not fucking around here. We need you. I’ve given you space. I know you need to do your thing. I know you need to work through this, but we’re running out of time. We’re exhausted.”

I looked up at him. I knew the team had been fighting on too many fronts. Werewolf pack on the southwest side, weirdo coven of witches in the northern part of the city. But they were exhausting themselves now fighting against a pyro that was causing trouble on the east side, torching neighborhoods, just generally causing panic. The official word from the Detroit P.D. was that there was an arsonist on the loose. Which I guess was technically correct, except that this one didn’t need gasoline and matches.

The team had been fighting him for a week now. He had a crew of witches and a few lesser demons working with him. Nain and the crew had taken out the strongest of his demon buddies, but he was still wreaking havoc. I’d barely seen the rest of the team; they were usually passed out in their rooms when I arrived after work. Nain was even more tired than the rest; when he wasn’t fighting, he was training me.

“He’s tearing these neighborhoods apart. He’s forcing people out of their homes. People are dying, Molly. We don’t have the luxury of letting you extend this particular pity party for yourself.”

“I’m not ready,” I said. “What if I lose control again?”

“If you do, we’ll work on it more. We’ll keep working on it. But we need you to do this now. We can keep him busy, fighting out front. You do your thing from behind the scenes. Convince him to stop. Bend him to your will, make him behave. We’ve tried everything.” He paused, and I could feel frustration flowing from him like a tidal wave. “It’s impossible to fight someone when all they have to do is blast a fireball at you.”

I sighed. “Yeah. Okay.” I could stop it. They deserved a break. I tried to ignore the dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

Nain reached up, tucked a stray curl behind my ear, gently ran his fingertips through the strands. I stopped breathing. His deep blue eyes met mine.

“You’re afraid again,” he said softly. “I’ve spent two weeks hurting you, in dozens of ways, in every way I’ll let myself hurt you, and I don’t see real fear in your eyes until now.” His gaze burned into mine, and he leaned forward, just slightly. I felt a tremor run through my body, felt my heart race as he closed in. His lips were a hair’s breadth from touching mine, when I felt someone nearby, and pulled away.

Within seconds, the roof door opened. Brennan walked out and glanced between me and Nain. I felt irritation, disappointment from him. My face was burning, my heart still racing.

“Brennan?” Nain growled, backing away and standing up. Relief. I could breathe again.

“Veronica and George are fighting again. He’s moving out. He says he’s done, with her and the team. I did everything I could to talk some sense into him, and so did Ada and Stone.” He shook his head, “They’re ridiculous. I think you need to deal with it,” Brennan said.

Nain nodded and stalked through the door without another word. Brennan stood there, watching me.

“Training, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow and walking over to the short wall that surrounded the roof.

“Yeah.”

I walked over to where he was, leaned against the wall next to him. “I’m going to be going with you guys to fight the pyro tonight,” I said.

He nudged me with his elbow. “Are you ready for this?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice at this point. I can’t keep letting you guys get the shit kicked out of you when I could stop it.”

“Superior, much?”

I shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time with Nain.”

“Yes.” We sat and watched the sun set over the city, waiting to find out where the pyro would pop up that night.  The tiny bit of a cool breeze was a welcome change from the sweltering heat earlier in the day. We sat side by side on the wall, feet dangling over the side of the building. Mostly silent. Brennan was one of those people you could just relax with. We didn’t need to talk. And I wasn’t much for conversation anyway. Every second that passed brought me closer to having to use my powers again, to using them on someone’s mind. I knew…if I hurt the pyro, it would be something he deserved. It didn’t make it any better.

And the worst part of it is that part of me, the dark part, the part Nain and I had been trying to put into a cage, was looking forward to it.

The roof door opened and Brennan and I both looked that way. Ada stepped out onto the roof. She looked at us, gave one slow nod, then gestured toward the door.

Chapter Nine

“Guess break time’s over, huh?” Brennan asked her as we followed her.

“Sure is. He’s over near Livernois, not too far from the U of D campus,” she said.

We stepped off the stairway to see the entire team getting ready. Stone shrugged on his leather jacket, his own version of armor. Veronica gave me a wave, went back to the meditation she did before these missions, eyes closed, lips moving in some type of silent mantra. George paced. Nain stood at the windows, looking out. To say that everyone was tense didn’t do it justice. This was a group of pissed off, exhausted people. Volatile.  The power and emotions swirling in the room made me nauseous.

I was re-braiding my hair, mostly for something to do. Nain turned, glanced at me, then looked away. “Okay, people,” he said. “This will hopefully be the last time we fight this fucker.” A small cheer went up from the team, glances thrown my way, and I tried to look confident.

“We’re going to go in like we always do. Do what you do, as if nothing is different. We need to distract him so Molly can work at him,” he continued.

“Won’t he feel her?” George asked, looking at me, as always, like I was some kind of venomous snake. I was tempted to hiss at him.

“He will. It’s impossible not to feel her nearby,” Brennan said.

Nain nodded. “Which is why we have to do a good job trying to distract him. We do our job right, he won’t know she’s nearby until it’s too late.”

Ada was standing next to me. She reached over and gently took my hand, gave it a squeeze. I gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand in return.

“The most important thing is that we give Molly what she needs,” Nain said, glancing at me again. “How much time will you need?”

I shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never tried this on anyone with power before.”

“We’re so screwed,” George groaned. Veronica glared at him and Stone smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut up, son,” Stone muttered.

“If she can’t manage it, we’ll fight, just like we always do,” Nain said. He looked at me again. “But I don’t think it’s going to go down that way.”

Stone pulled on his leather gloves. “Let’s do this, then.”

We squished into Nain’s truck. Me between Nain and Brennan in the front seat, Ada, George, and Veronica in the extended cab. Stone followed us on his Harley.

The tension in the truck was insane. Nain and Brennan talked to each other a little on the way, mostly about where to hit them, where to position the team. The more I was with the team, the more I saw the inner dynamics. Nain was clearly the leader. Brennan was his second in command, the one the team members seemed to feel most comfortable dealing with directly. Which was fine with Nain, who generally didn’t say  much to anyone unless he was giving orders. Ada and Stone were next in the chain of command, with George and Veronica at the bottom of the totem pole.

Me? I wasn’t part of the team. No pecking order for me, thanks.