City of Souls

shimmered as it stretched from his body…then fell. Gregor leapt to safety, calling out his apologies as he left Jewell alone, and I turned my attention to Riddick.

“Box him in!” Micah called, as Jewell backed up. Riddick heard Micah’s orders, of course, but it was still a good idea. He, too, had to get in close, as his conduit wasn’t anything he could risk throwing.

The biggest problem now was Riddick’s partner, Tekla. Sure, this aptly illustrated the effectiveness of working in teams, but I was too busy trying to stay alive to appreciate it. She pointed her weapon at me, and the anchor imbedded in my wall so fast I was surprised I managed to raise it in time. She retracted the anchor, my wall fell, and we countered again. My wall shook this time. Fuck, she was strong. I doubled up, bent and crossed over my own body to shield Micah from Riddick…and that’s when I hit my groove.

If you’ve trained hard enough-and if you last long enough-there’s a point in every altercation where muscle memory takes over. It’s like a pilot getting everything set, then giving the plane over to autopilot. Make the right move at the right time and suddenly your whole being-body and thought and will-snaps into alignment. It’s the same feeling athletes get when they’re “in the zone.” I whirled, feinted, and suddenly my body was singing.

My stance was wide, arms extended full length, and I circled Micah, keeping close as I deflected left and then right, crossing arms, and at times, not even glancing in the direction of my deflections. I put up a wall so strong Tekla’s anchor got stuck. I held it, and another, while delivering a back kick that sent Jewell barreling into Hunter’s range. I erected walls that were both vertical and horizontal, climbing them, leaping twenty feet in the air…certainly no longer the weakest link.

Riddick decided to follow my lead, and drove up a wall between himself and Micah, then dropped it before charging the bigger, slower man. I raised another at the last second, buying Micah time and space to fall back, and when Tekla tried to do the same for Riddick, I flipped my wrist so that my wall spread horizontally, splicing her visible one so that it rose only to waist height. She gasped and turned on me, wide-eyed. Micah leapt, I kept the surface as strong as a table, and he dispatched Riddick with a single, deft slice.

Then Hunter’s whip appeared out of nowhere, and I screamed. The reaction was inappropriate-I was nowhere near the conduit, but had yelled as if I were-so Hunter’s head jerked my way, but it was already too late. The whip snapped and Micah’s protectant went down. Hunter, seeing the vulnerability, stood down so that Micah could clear the floor without mortal injury. Micah leapt, dropping f-bombs as he soared from the battle area, and Felix-Hunter’s partner-immediately began advancing upon me.

“Shit.” I backed up, knowing my fear was pumping out pheromones inappropriate for a training exercise, but I wasted no energy trying to stop them. Felix scented it, and like a Viking berserker in the throes of battle-lust, his eyes glazed over with martial fury. I slammed up three vertical walls in quick succession, which was a drain on my energy, and with every additional shield, the previous ones weakened. I whimpered.

“Jo?”

It was only a murmur, but Hunter’s concern cost him. He should have been covering Felix-and his own ass-but Jewell saw it and struck.

She caught him at his wrist, following up quickly, clearly expecting to miss. But she didn’t miss, and his whip dropped, skittering behind us like a sidewinder. That was enough to pull his web of coating away…and the follow-up nicked his arm. Jewell blanched as blood bloomed in the room, and looked as if she wanted to apologize. Someone gasped on the sidelines. But Hunter’s gaze was for me. He couldn’t stay, of course. Live fire was now as dangerous for him as it was for me, and Tekla and Felix, battling hard, probably hadn’t seen his disarmament.

By the time Hunter was gone, so was Felix, shot through with an anchor in his side, and cursing Tekla with a bald lack of respect. Meanwhile, she’d also woven between my three walls, and I created a fourth on the fly, just to buy myself time. I was too tired to make it invisible, but my mind was still clicking at warp speed, and that gave me an idea.

My next one was opaque, black as a Shadow’s heart and as wide as the room. I pivoted and ducked behind it… then realized I was three feet from the warehouse wall and running out of space.

“Tekla…I give up!”

“Push yourself, Jo.” She answered, and the wall behind me shook.

Shit. “No, I can’t-”

“Agents of Light don’t ever quit!” And her anchor plunged through the concrete barrier at my back, barely missing my shoulder.

Yelping, I ducked. She wasn’t going to stop. So I pleaded. “Tekla, I can’t be hit!”

“Oh, I bet I can hit you,” Jewell said, from my other side. I whipped my left arm out just in time. My wall didn’t rise to full height-it was too hurried for that-but it halted her momentum and she tumbled over its top. By the time she somersaulted into a standing position, I had another wall erected. I couldn’t see the impact, but I heard her groan.

And then back to Tekla. Dammit! I was too unfocused now. I was getting tired, my eyes darting around as quickly as my thoughts, and I wondered why these bitches weren’t taking each other out instead of closing in on me.

That’s when I saw it. Lunging without hesitation, I grabbed Hunter’s barbed whip-the conduit of an ally who was still alive-and squeezed its handle. Its weight felt awkward as I whirled it around, but it lashed out like a lightning rod, and took down Jewell with a resounding snap. She screamed, though whether from pain or surprise, I couldn’t tell…or care. I whirled and again, the whip responded as if it was my own.

Maybe it was due to the aureole Hunter and I had recently shared again. Maybe it was because, as he mentioned earlier, he’d lived inside of me only a short time before. But I wasn’t just holding his weapon, I was using it effectively, and the more I moved-erecting walls with the torque of my palm, leaping atop them, now hunting Tekla-the more I reveled in the ease of my armament, even while I wondered at it.

Hunter was alive. This conduit was an extension of his body. And yet it was responding agilely to my touch.

I let out a battle cry and leapt to the rafters, whip hissing from my palm.

“Kairos!” Someone yelled from the sidelines, and I thought, yes. Maybe that was it. I was the Kairos. I couldn’t replace my own conduit-not with the original still out there, still a part of me, and still yearning to be united with me as I did with it-but I could use those of my allies. Because as I caught air, I felt the way Hunter looked in battle: confident and lithe…and scary as shit.

“That’s bullshit!” Someone else said, echoing my next fleeting thought. So I pivoted at the apex of my flight, took the whip’s handle in both hands, and wheeled it around like a discus. I caught Tekla’s anchor right at its release, and pulled, yanking her from her feet…

“Stop!”

The cry rocked the building, rippling in the air like a physical blow. Tekla, still sprawled on her stomach, cursed under her breath-a rarity for her-and shut her eyes, probably to reinforce the mental walls she’d put up around the building. I dropped to the ground with a soft bend of my knees, breathing hard, but smiling inside. I was still fast. My wall work was improving. Keep that bitchy edge, I thought as I straightened and turned to the others, and I might be okay yet.

But Warren was not smiling. “Jo, you’re with me. Bring the whip. The rest of you, clean this place up.” And he stalked back to the panic room while the others continued silently staring at me.

“Why’s he pissed at us?” Riddick muttered, kicking at the debris of one of my walls that had collapsed under Warren’s cry. It ricocheted into another, and both disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“How did you do that?” Jewell asked as I passed. I shrugged and swallowed hard, risking a glance at Hunter who, ominously, hadn’t moved. He just stared as he held his bloodied forearm tight to his side, eyes flicking to his whip before winging back up at me. I kept walking…and once inside the panic room, Warren posed the same question.

“How did you do that?”

I shrugged uncomfortably as he shut the door behind me. “I-I don’t know. I wasn’t able to use the replacement conduit that he was making me at all.”

“Because yours still exists.” Warren nodded impatiently, already knowing that. “Have you used or practiced with this whip before?”

I shook my head. “Never.”

He frowned. “So maybe it’s this bond between you two. Maybe because you just-”

“Okay!” I held up a hand just to keep the thought from passing his lips. I hated my relationships, or my