Battlecry Page 6

  Call me if you need help.

  Besides, there was nothing he could do. There was nowhere to go.

  And even if there was, I didn’t need help.

  I was fine.

  7

  “You’re telegraphing.”

  A second after I spoke I blocked Ember’s punch, causing her to let out a slew of curses. I grinned. “Easy there, Ember. True heroines speak joyfully at all times, remember?”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. “How am I supposed to throw a punch without making it look like a punch?”

  “Don’t make a big show of winding your arm up.” I demonstrated what she’d done wrong.

  It had been three days since the battle downtown. We were at home, in the basement, in the fluorescent-lit training room. The walls were covered in blue padding, cracked and peeling from too many sparring rounds. A worn punching bag hung in the corner. Free weights were stacked neatly at the far end of the room. Ember and I stood in the middle, where we’d been practicing our techniques for an hour.

  “How do you make this look so easy?” Ember shook her head to clear sweat from her eyes. “I haven’t landed one on you yet.”

  “It’s just muscle memory, Em. I’ve been training longer than you have. Plus, I’ve got the build for it. Now, show me your fighting stance again. Okay, good. Keep your eyes forward, chin down, move your hand here. Try to punch me one more time. Imagine I’m your least favorite person.”

  I slid into my defensive stance. She narrowed her eyes, breathed for a few seconds, and threw a solid punch towards my face. I moved my head to the side just in time, but then she swung for my chin. I ducked again but could not block her knee to my solar plexus. My lungs emptied with a gasp.

  I stumbled backwards and coughed. “Good hits. I didn’t expect you to try that combination. Very—very good.”

  “Are you okay?” Ember rushed forward, more shocked than I was, then stopped when I gestured for water. She just handed me a bottle and said, “When you’re ready, I’d like to go over the moves we practiced last week.”

  “Self-defense from supine? Sure, no problem.” I took a swig and handed her the water bottle. “Have some water, though. You’re paler than usual.”

  Knee to my stomach aside, I was delighted Ember was taking such a keen interest in training with me. Six weeks earlier she’d knocked on my bedroom door and explained that she wanted to be a more competent fighter, and asked if I could show her some moves. I’d thrown my arm around her shoulder and told her that she’d be beating people up in no time.

  Since then, she’d progressed steadily. I also found that not only did I enjoy teaching, I looked forward to spending time with Ember. I had more fun with her than I’d ever had with my sister Allison, who was five years older than me and had always preferred the company of older children.

  When Ember had had her fill of water, she capped the bottle and put it back on the bench. “I know we’ve gone over it a bunch, but I want to make it effortless.”

  “Sure, but it will never be effortless. The best you can hope for is muscle memory.” I threw a slow punch at her head, which she immediately blocked. We high-fived.

  A minute later, Ember laid on the ground, facing up. I knelt down between her knees. “I’m going to go over the steps again with you, and then we’ll practice.”

  “Without a weapon first,” she said, her voice hard.

  I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Not for the first time I wondered if something had happened during a battle that I didn’t know about, but when I’d asked her during our first training session she’d sworn that nothing had. “I’m just tired of being the only one on the team who can’t defend herself properly,” she’d admitted.

  I put my hands on her shoulders. “Normally when an attacker comes at you like this, they’ll try to get in low and close.”

  “So I straighten my arms.” She put her hands on my shoulders and locked her elbows. “And make sure my hands are on their shoulders, not their chest. Otherwise they can turn and knock my arms aside. My thumbs shouldn’t be in your armpits.”

  “Right,” I said, smiling. “What’s the next step?”

  Ember slid into a comma shape, her left leg raising up and going on my right hip. “Good! Next step.” She slid her right hand down to my wrist and lifted her right leg to my left thigh, giving her enough leverage to push me back and throw me off balance. “Good, good. Final step. You like this part.”

  Ember grinned, a devilish gleam in her eye. “I slide my hands down to your wrists,” she said as she did so, “lift my legs up,” she continued, raising her legs up so her feet were next to my face, “and start kicking the crap out of the guy.”

  “Which I’ll thank you to not do.” I let go of her and scooted backwards. “Again? Faster each time until it’s seamless.”

  My phone beeped, alerting me that we only had five minutes until chore time.

  “Dang it,” I grumbled. “I wanted to pretend I was a knife-wielding maniac.”

  Ember unwound her tapes. “If it makes you feel any better, I know for a fact that many criminals in the city think you actually are a knife-wielding maniac.”

  Snickering, I collapsed onto the padded bench and motioned for her to join me. I leaned my head back against the wall and took a few deep breaths, then started unwinding my own tapes and inspecting my hands. I had a few abrasions and sore points from the training. An idle thought of holding hands with Benjamin passed through my head, but it whisked away as soon as it came.

  Ember sat down and leaned back next to me. When I glanced sidelong at her I saw that she looked troubled.

  “Hey, what’s wrong? If you’re upset about running out of time, we can always practice tomorrow. Actually, I bet I could get Marco to do the clothes mending for you. He owes me a fav—”

  “It’s not that, okay? Ugh, sorry,” she said, putting a hand over her eyes. “I’m dealing with some stuff right now.”

  Though I didn’t have any idea what she was talking about, I inched closer to her and put my hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk?” My voice was gentle. “What’s going on?”

  Ember looked at me, her eyes large and sad. “Do you ever think about going back home?”

  For a minute I didn’t know what to say, but eventually I responded, “Um, sometimes. I would’ve thought that you knew that.”

  Ember shook her head and looked down. “I try not to pry, I swear. Sometimes things get through, though.…” She trailed off, and then looked at me again. “Thank you for teaching me like you’ve been doing. It means a lot. I don’t know if I’ll be able to use what I’ve learned when the time comes, but it makes me feel better all the same.”

  “Um, no problem.” I was still confused by the abrupt change in tone our conversation had taken.

  While Ember took another sip of water I studied my friend in hopes that I could determine the source of her distress. The fluorescent lights cast odd shadows on her face, highlighting how thin and frail she was. I hoped she’d never have to use the moves I was teaching her. I wasn’t convinced she’d be able to fight off any attacker who meant business. She shivered.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, even more concerned.

  Ember jerked out of her reverie. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little cold, maybe. Let’s get out of the basement.”

  We went upstairs and busied ourselves with our daily chores. Ember sat down in the living room with a sewing kit and began the endless process of repairing minor tears and rips in our uniforms while she watched the news, the only live broadcast we were allowed to watch. Every few minutes I heard her gasp in pain and suck on her finger. She hated sewing. Elsewhere in the house Marco and Reid had their own chores. I assumed Patrick was in his room.

  For an hour I mopped the kitchen, cycled the laundry, and dusted the downstairs. When I was done, I sifted through a stack of police reports while standing in front of a map of the city, putting a color-coded pin at the site of each cr
ime. There was a conspicuous lack of pins in a one-mile radius around our house; it was the only crime-free area on the map besides Harris Neck Wildlife Refuge in the southwest. Even the many branches of Blackbeard Creek had pins. I ran my finger over the blank circle, viciously proud that the city’s scum wanted to stay away from us.

  I was studying the map for new trends in crime when Ember called to me from the living room. “Jill, you’re on the news!”

  I poked my head into the living room. Grainy security footage of me flying backwards into the wall played, though they’d blurred my face as mandated by federal law. Only Patrick ever allowed his face to be shown in the media. “Why is the news still talking about that? That was days ago.”

  Marco and Reid came down the stairs just then. “Jill’s on the news?” Marco asked. “Turn it up.”

  Ember turned up the volume.

  “Last week’s attack marks the eighth superhuman attack this year against buildings owned by Bell Enterprises.” A map of the country came on the screen; little dots marked various cities scattered around the continent. “Each attack has had a death toll. This week’s bombing claimed six lives, including two children. The federal investigation is ongoing.”

  The channel went to ads, and Ember muted the television. “What could anyone have against Bell Enterprises?” she mused. “I’ve seen their name on a bunch of items in the sick bay.” She started to count off on her fingers. “The hydrocodone, the antiseptic spray, the cough medicine…”

  “Why have you been reading the backs of first aid supplies?” Reid asked, his voice teasing.

  “For your information, I’m allowed to know stuff once in a while.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Reid said with an aggravated sigh. “Which you should know.”

  “Oh, because I’m a telepath?”

  I tuned out their squabbling and tried to recall where I’d seen Bell Enterprises’ logo. I had a feeling it was in this room, and when my eye fell on an aerosol air freshener, I remembered.

  Studying the back of the can, I turned to Marco, who’d picked up his knitting needles from a basket next to the couch. “I thought I’d seen the name somewhere. Bell makes half the stuff that comes in our supply shipments, right? So why would someone want to attack a company that makes medicine and air fresheners?” I whipped my head around to the arguing pair. “And shut up, you two,” I barked. They were arguing now about something Reid had said four months prior. They made faces at me but fell silent. “We’re talking about the attacks on Bell Enterprises.”

  Reid rested against the coffee table. “It’s weird that supervillains are targeting a private company like that. Any idea why the forbidden families would join together against a business? They’re not arms dealers or anything.”

  Marco put down his knitting needles and started to unravel a snarl. “Maybe they’re being hired by a business rival. Or maybe the Westerners have branched out from murdering us to murdering the companies that make our medical equipment.”

  “That’s…not out of the question,” I said slowly. “They hate normal people, right? I can see them blowing up kids to make a grand point.”

  There was a heavy pause while everyone digested that idea.

  Reid abruptly stood up and turned off the television. “Who wants dinner?” he asked, his tone light.

  We jumped up and went to the kitchen, chatting in low voices about battles with the Westerners. If they were getting restless, we’d receive news soon that more people back home had been killed. The elders occasionally made noises about assembling strike teams to go after the Westerners, but the plans never came to anything. I liked to dream, though; a small part of me relished the idea of fighting the people who’d killed so many of my family members.

  Reid hummed quietly over the stove while Ember and I set the table. Marco opened a bagged salad and divided it into bowls.

  When I placed the fifth bowl on the table, I realized I hadn’t seen Patrick in hours, nor had I heard the floorboards creak above us. “Hey, where’s Patrick?”

  Everyone tensed. “He left earlier in civilian clothes, but I don’t know where he was going,” Reid said, not looking away from the pot he was stirring.

  I lightly elbowed Ember. Ever thought of listening in to his thoughts and finding out where he’s been going?

  No. Her mental tone ended the discussion. Suddenly, she picked up her bowl and silverware and put them away. “I’m not hungry,” she said. She hurried out of the room, a green tinge in her cheeks.

  Reid ladled chicken noodle soup into our bowls. “I’ll bring her some soup later. Here, Marco. Jillian, pass me your bowl.”

  We ate in comfortable silence until the sound of the front door opening and closing alerted us that Patrick was home. A minute later our leader walked into the kitchen and a palpable tension settled around the table. He sat down next to me, to my immense discomfort. I hastily gulped down half my soup and immediately regretted doing so when it burned my throat.

  “So what did everyone do today?” Patrick began.

  Nobody said anything.

  Patrick raised an eyebrow and Reid hastily answered. “Marco and I reviewed the security requests we got from City Hall. We made notes and left them outside your door.”

  Patrick looked at me.

  I blew on a spoonful of soup. “Besides my chores, I coached Ember on fighting moves.”

  Patrick paused while lifting his spoon and frowned, though he looked more puzzled than angry. “What’s the point in teaching her how to fight? She’s a telepath.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know why my father released her into public service,” he murmured to himself.

  “She expressed a desire to be more useful,” I said delicately. “She doesn’t want to be a liability, so I’ve been teaching her some basic self-defense techniques.”

  He appeared to think about that for a second, then said, “I’d hate for something to happen to her on the battlefield. Thank you.”

  I couldn’t recall the last time Patrick had thanked me for anything. A wonderful lightness filled my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I’d found the way I could slip into his good graces.

  To my satisfaction, he continued to speak to me. “So what moves did you teach her today?”

  “We went over basic sparring techniques, focusing on opponents without weapons. We also rehearsed escaping from an attacker in the supine position. That means—”

  “On your back. Yes, I know.” Then he paused, looked up, and turned around towards the direction of Ember’s room, his face inscrutable. His eyes narrowed a fraction, but then he smiled. He turned back around and faced us. “Thank you for dinner, Reid.”

  We all sat in our chairs, unsure of what to do or say. Patrick cleared his dishes and walked out of the room.

  The atmosphere of the kitchen relaxed and we finished our meal in silence.

  8

  Thirty minutes later Ember came out of her room and joined the rest of us in front of the crime map.

  It was a patrol night, so we had to decide where to patrol based on where I’d put the pins. We each had our own assigned zones, but for safety’s sake we didn’t have routine patrol routes within them. Patrols focused mainly on deterring street crime, but as mundane as street crimes could be, they could also be dangerous. We always planned out our patrols.

  Patrick didn’t care for the daily monotony of putting the pins on the map and interpreting the results, so the job fell to me. I always felt a rush of self-importance when I advised my teammates where they should patrol, though of course Patrick had the final say.

  With my team assembled around the kitchen table, notepads in front of them, I began my briefing.

  “First off, Marco. Downtown, especially the business area, has been quiet since the Destructor, but that’s probably because nobody wants to go there. In the last three weeks there have been four sexual assaults in Varina Davis Park, so maybe start your patrol there.”

  Marco straightened in his chair. “Four in
three weeks? Are we talking about one guy or a bunch of them?”

  “Accounts varied,” I said. “You can go through the police reports later for the details.” I turned to Reid. “The major patrol points along the river have seen a decrease in crime since you helped bust the heroin ring.” I smiled at him, proud of my friend. “There were two purse snatchings on Spanish Moss Lane last week, so I suggest you patrol there tonight.” He nodded and made notes. I looked at Ember. “Northside has had a drop in sexual assaults but significantly more muggings than usual. There have been reports of gang activity in vacant lots, but those are unconfirmed.”

  Ember grimaced. “Sounds like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

  Reid patted her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look.

  I turned to Patrick. “The Island has had one murder, three muggings, an armed robbery, and two sexual assaults since our last patrol brief.” I never interpreted information for him, nor did I ever offer suggestions, lest he think I was giving orders. I’d only had to make that mistake once.

  He smiled and nodded. “Sounds like I’m needed there tonight.”

  I pointed to Old Town on the map, where I’d secretly stuck a few extra pins at random. “My zone has had a rise in muggings, mostly concentrated around Davis. I think it’s important for me to increase my presence there.”

  More like increase my amount of alone time so I could text Benjamin.

  Everyone waited for Patrick, who mulled over the information. He made a note on his notepad, then flipped it shut and stood up.

  “Here’s tonight’s roster.” He rolled his neck. “Reid, since the river front is so quiet, you’re going to be with Marco. Stop by the river to check on things, then spend the rest of the time at the park. I’m going to be on the Island.” He smirked at Ember, whose eyes widened. “And since Ember is so worried about getting her ass kicked, you girls will patrol together in Northside.”