Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
TOM
Connor’s sword slices toward me, the sun glinting off the steel-and-quartz blade, and I neatly block it with mine, ducking and turning to set myself up for a return strike.
It’s taken me a while to get used to his style, but I’m finally beginning to hold my own.
Gabe was right that I needed this practice—in kendo tournaments, both fighters are using the same sets of moves, going by the same rules, and our surroundings are structured.
Fighting Connor is nothing like that. The only rule he’s following right now is to not actually maim or kill me, and fuck, that’s exhilarating.
Not even the numerous bruises I’ll definitely feel later can detract from the odd freedom of fighting this way.
My sword, which is actually Connor’s practice sword, cuts through the air while Connor’s recovering from his strike. It’s only seconds, but that’s all I need, and I turn the blade at the last instant so the flat hits his arm instead of the edge.
“Dammit,” he pants. “Good job.” We both know that if this had been a real battle, the sword would have sheared through his arm and probably cut into his torso too.
“Yes, well done,” Marc drawls from Gabe’s porch. He’s supposed to be going through the research on the barrier with Gabe, but he’s found plenty of time to make snarky comments. “We demons just love to forgo using most of our power and instead opt to wave a sharp stick at humans.”
Connor clenches his teeth and sucks a sharp breath in through his nose. “I hate him so much,” he mutters.
I pat him on the shoulder. “I know.” Turning my gaze to Marc, I say, “We’re doing what we can with the resources we have. Would you like to come down here for me to practice with a real demon?”
“No!” Gabe and Connor shout it at the same time, loudly enough to startle me. Gabe’s leapt to his feet, and Connor moves in front of me, sword held low and ready, as though he’s protecting me.
Marc smirks. “Relax, little humans. I’m not going to fight your friend.” He turns back to Gabe, who sinks slowly into his chair again. “Where were we?”
While they return to their discussion about energy that goes right over my head, I cringe apologetically at Connor, who’s lowered his sword but has a hand pressed to his breastbone. “Sorry?”
He exhales hard and drops his hand to his side.
“Yeah, don’t do that again.” With a sideways glance at the porch, he lowers his voice.
From what I’ve observed so far this morning, Marc can probably still hear us, but hopefully isn’t paying attention.
“He’s right; demons aren’t going to fight you with a sword.
There are other training techniques the Collective uses to teach us to fight demons, and I’ll show you those.
” He hesitates. “Honestly, though, without a quartz sword and hunter ability, there’s zero chance you’d be able to kill a demon.
We need you to hold some of them off while we kill them…
and there’s a good chance we’ll be attacked by humans, if the other side finds out what we’re trying to do.
Do you think you’d be able to kill another human being? ”
For a second, my mind blanks. Kill someone? People like me, ordinary people living ordinary lives with a strong sense of ethics… we don’t do that. I mean, maybe if I was being attacked and it was the only way to save my own life…
Which answers the question, I guess.
“Don’t ask me to murder someone in cold blood,” I reply. “But in a fight, if they were trying to kill me or Gabe… or anyone here,” I add hastily, because that almost sounds like Gabe is special to me. “Then yeah. I’d try not to, but if there was no other way, I think I could.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, because I’m in the exact same boat as you. Killing demons, I can do. I’ve never had to kill a human.” There’s a faint tremor on the last word, likely because if humans come after us, there’s a good chance his parents will be with them.
An awkward silence descends as we both struggle to process that. I switch my borrowed sword from hand to hand. “We could—”
“Hunters coming,” Marc announces. He’s not speaking loudly, but his voice slices through my words. “Three of them.”
“Fuck,” Connor mutters, turning to look up the hill.
There’s nobody on the drive, just a couple of tourists in the distance wandering from the chicken coop toward the smithy.
A few came down to watch us practice before, and Connor made up an elaborate story that Kieran is definitely going to yell at him about. “Are you sure?”
Marc gives him a scathing look. “Of course I’m sure. You hunters all have the same psychic stink. Why none of you try to hide it, we’ve never understood.”
“Tom, do me a favor?” Connor starts walking toward the porch, and I follow.
“Sure?”
“Take my sword so I don’t ‘accidentally’ attack him.”
Grinning despite the tense situation, I take the sword from him. We step up onto the tiny porch, and I go to the end where Connor left his gear—the other side from where Marc is. The sheaths for the swords are there, and I put them both away safely.
Then I wonder if that was a mistake. Are these hunters working with Cato?
“How far are they?” Gabe’s asking calmly.
“Not too far. Driving down the highway. We have a little less than ten minutes, I’d say.”
“And there are three?” He turns to Connor before Marc can reply. “It’s Jill and the others. Has to be.”
“Is there any way you can tell?” Connor asks Marc, then shakes his head. “Never mind. Their names might not be on the list, but we’re still not sure how much we can safely tell the Collective.”
“Plus, they’re not likely to trust our word when they find us hanging out with a demon,” Gabe adds.
Marc shrugs. “So I’ll go inside and you just don’t let them in.”
Gabe and Connor look at each other, seemingly communicating without words. “Fine,” Gabe says at last. “Get inside, and make sure you keep all your demon-ness under wraps. Let’s not give anything away just yet.”
Rolling his eyes, Marc rises gracefully from his chair and strolls into the cabin.
“There aren’t enough words for how much I hate him,” Connor declares.
From inside, Marc calls, “Ouch. Your words are so hurtful, little human.”
Connor growls, but Gabe gives him a little shove. “Focus. What are we going to say to the others?”
I clear my throat. “Not to be a nuisance, but what others?”
Connor begins, “The Collective sent some others to help—” but Gabe talks over the top of him.
“Tom, you’re a godsend!”
I blush, and immediately feel like an idiot. “That’s what my nonna tells me,” I joke, trying to de-awkwardize things. “But why, exactly?”
Gabe grabs the swords and hands me one. “You’re Skye’s friend who does kendo and wanted a sparring partner. Connor offered to help out. You know nothing about demons or the otherworld or the fact that we’re part of the Collective. Make a joke about Connor’s fancy-ass sword or something too.”
Unsheathing the sword again, I say, “Most of that was true yesterday. Sure, I can play innocent bystander. If they mention wanting to talk in private, should I pretend I can’t take a hint and make the whole situation really uncomfortable?”
“Would you?” He smiles gratefully at me, and it doesn’t suck. There’s a lot of things I’ll do for Gabe if they make him look at me like that.
“Sure. Come on, Connor. Let me hit you with a sword again.”
He snorts. “You got lucky, dude. I’m not going to go easy on you this time.”
I laugh outright, because he may be more experienced than me in this kind of swordsmanship, but at the end there, he was definitely not going easy on me.
We step out onto the lawn in front of the cabin, but before we can begin, Connor calls to Gabe, “How are we going to decide who to bring on board? We’re going to need more people.”
“Can we worry about that later? When we have time to discuss it?” He sounds cranky, and I decide to intervene.
“So who are these people again?”
“When the whole thing went down with Skye, and me not being able to find the hidden gateway, the Collective sent some other hunters out here to help me look.”
“Uh-huh. And you don’t know them well enough to know if we can trust them?” The sound of an engine grabs my attention, and I glance up the hill. A car is slowly making its way down the drive.
“Up until last night, I would have said I could trust any fellow hunter with my life,” Connor replies darkly.
“Now… I don’t know.” He turns toward the car and lifts his sword in salute as it approaches, slowing even more.
It stops right before the road sweeps around the cabin to the parking area, and a moment later, three familiar-looking people get out.
“Good morning!” Connor calls cheerfully, and I’m surprised by how relaxed he looks. The guy’s one hell of an actor. “Come to talk history with Gabe?”
One of the men studies me. “Uh, yeah. But it looks like you guys are busy. Hi, I’m Randy.” He steps forward and holds out a hand. I shake it.
“Tom. You guys came into the restaurant the other night, right? I’m sure I recognize your faces. Colletti’s Italian?”
Randy’s smile doesn’t change, but he seems to relax. “Yeah, that was us. Good memory.”
I shrug. “Town’s not that big. New faces tend to stand out.”
“Speaking of standing out, your pasta is sensational,” the woman says. “I’m Jill, by the way.”
“Great to meet you. And thanks, we make it ourselves.” I chuckle. “Well, not me. My uncle’s the chef at the moment. I just complain about the cost of flour and eggs.”
They all laugh, and the third guy, Mart, introduces himself, then asks, “What are you all up to? I didn’t think sword fighting was part of the experience here.” It’s deliberately casual in a way anyone could tell was fake. He’s not as good an actor as Connor.
“Tom’s aiming toward sixth dan in kendo,” Connor says. “Skye mentioned it when I was complaining that Gabe never has time to spar anymore.”
“I can never find anyone either,” I add, rolling my eyes.
“Connor being here is like a gift from heaven, you know? Even if he thinks he’s the hero in a fantasy movie with a freaking crystal sword.
” I laugh like I’ve made the funniest joke ever, and they join in, though it’s kind of lackluster on their part.
Seriously, if these people are going to go around pretending they’re not demon hunters, they need to pick up their acting game.
“Ha ha, yeah,” Jill says. “Um. We won’t interrupt you, then. Gabe, maybe we can go inside and look at some of those textbooks we were talking about?”
“Oh, nah, it’s not an interruption,” I declare.
“I think we’re about ready for a break anyway, aren’t we, Connor?
And it’s way too nice a day for you to be stuck inside,” I continue without giving any of them the chance to get a word in edgewise.
“Weather’s not going to be this good for much longer, y’know?
Take a seat, relax. I’ll help Gabe get us some iced tea or something, and he can bring the textbooks out here.
” Pausing for a microsecond, I hand Connor my sword.
“I have a heap of questions about Gabe’s work, anyway. I’m totally into history.”
“You are?” Gabe asks, sounding like he’s about to laugh. I stride past the others, who all look a little shell-shocked, and join him on the porch.
“Sure! I loved King Arthur when I was growing up.”
He sputters a little, then says to his colleagues, “Make yourselves at home,” before following me into the cabin. Marc is seated comfortably in an armchair, reading a leather-bound book.
“Where’d you get that?” Gabe asks with a frown, looking around as though to see what’s been disturbed.
“I went and got it from home. Hurry up and get rid of them, would you? I’d far rather be reading in my own home than in this inferior shack.”
Gabe ignores him and heads for the kitchenette, but I shake my head. “Wow, that’s mean.” The cabin’s actually really nice. “What are you reading?”
“The biography of a demon who died long ago. He was a pompous, tiresome windbag, by all accounts, but he accumulated an impressive number of connections with humans. Bloodthirsty humans, though. Not like you boring lot.”
My skin crawls, and I’m sorry I asked. I go to help Gabe.
“Good job with the distraction,” he says. “Though if we have to sit and drink tea, I’m wondering if it might be better for Marc to just go and come back later.”
“Yes, because I’m a puppy for you to command. Go away now, no, come back. Fetch!” Marc mutters from behind his book.
We both pretend not to hear him. “I’ll get rid of them,” I promise. “But this might be a good opportunity to feel them out. See if they’re on our side. They should be, right?” I glance over at Marc. “Did you find any signs that there might be others on Cato’s side?”
“Signs, yes. Proof, names… no.”
Gabe sighs. “I guess we’ll just have to make a judgment call.” He pauses, then raises an eyebrow at me. “King Arthur?”
“He fucking rocked, man.”