They probably practice together constantly, Jonah thought, leaping backward, arching his back to avoid Ellen’s questing sword, then spinning to avoid a flank attack from Jack. Jack’s momentum carried him past Jonah, but he nimbly evaded Jonah’s quick thrust.
Jonah was all over the field, which was, of course, the reason he’d asked for that change in the rules. It was too easy to get trapped on a narrow strip. This way, he could use his superior speed. At one point he literally leaped over the warriors’ heads, landing on the other side.
“Do you have wings or what?” Jack grumbled.
“He’s just like you,” Ellen said, dabbing at a scratch on her cheek. “He won’t stand still.”
Despite the grumbling, Jonah could tell that the two warriors were having the time of their lives, taking a simple pleasure in the physical game. It was infectious—Jonah couldn’t help joining in. Gradually, they developed a strategy to counter Jonah’s strengths, scissoring in on him, trading off in order to tire him out. When Jack finally nailed him with a thrust to the left torso, Jonah was just as glad to concede rather than fight on.
Besides, he’d looked up to see Gabriel standing at one end of the bleachers. Scowling. It seemed that public sparring didn’t fit in with Jonah’s new role as diplomat.
The warriors, on the other hand, were practically giddy with joy. Not so much about the win, but about the play— the dance. Fighting was art to them, so different from Jonah’s methodical butchery.
“Want to go three rounds?” Ellen asked, blotting sweat from her face with her sleeve. “Best two out of three?”
“You could play us one-on-one now,” Jack suggested, grinning. “Or maybe find a partner.” He scanned the crowd again for likely prospects.
“No, thank you,” Jonah said, rolling his eyes. “I think I’ll quit while I’m only one bout behind.”
The crowd began to disperse, realizing that the fighting was over for the day. Soon it was just the three of them, clustered together, and Gabriel, at a distance, clearly waiting for Jonah to break away.
Ellen handed Jonah a bottle of water, which he drained at one go. She began gathering up gear, loading it into the back of an old Jeep, but Jack’s sharp blue eyes were still fixed on Jonah. “You’re gifted, I can tell that, but you’re not exactly . . . readable,” he said. “You’re not a warrior, are you?” At least Jack hadn’t guessed enchanter right out of the gate. Jonah shook his head. “Nope. Not a warrior.”
When Jonah didn’t elaborate, Jack tried again. “Where did you learn to fight? You have some great skills.”
“I got most of my training at school. And, you know, by doing.”
“Where do you go to school?” Jack asked.
“The Anchorage,” Jonah said, lifting his chin, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
“The Anchorage!” Jack repeated, startlement crossing his face. He followed with the typical quick look-over. “But you . . . does that mean you—”
“I’m a Thorn Hill survivor,” Jonah said. “I’m what we call a savant.” He paused for a heartbeat, then added lightly, “Should I have disclosed that up front?”
Ellen had come up next to Jack and heard that last exchange. “Not to us,” she said. “Jack’s kind of a mongrel himself, and, let me tell you, he’s not above using it to his advantage in a fight.”
“Mongrel?” Jonah said. “What do you mean?” But neither one of them heard, intent on each other as they were.
“One time,” Jack muttered. “Just that one time. When you were trying to kill me.”
“If I were trying to kill you, Jack, you’d be dead,” Ellen said sweetly.
“Hey!” Jonah shouted, louder than he intended. The two warriors swiveled to look at him. “What do you mean, mongrel?” he repeated.
“Jack’s kind of a hybrid,” Ellen said. “He was born a wizard, but had a warrior stone implanted. Which means he’s a little bit nasty, but still has some redeeming qualities.” She brushed her fingers over Jack’s ripped pectorals. “Is—is that common?” Jonah said, frustrated at his own ignorance.
“No,” Jack said. “It’s . . . unusual. Unique, you might say.
I’m the only one.”
“It’s also a long story,” Ellen said. “Listen, we have a sparring field set up in one of the city parks, and we work out several times a week. You could come join us. If you wanted to.” She held out her phone. “Give me your cell number and I’ll text you when something’s happening.”
Jonah hesitated, weighing Ellen’s phone on his palm. A half hour ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to retreat into the safety of the Anchorage. But this might be an opportunity to learn more about the mainliners. Maybe even things Gabriel didn’t want him to know.
The truth was . . . he
“Please say yes,” Ellen urged. “I’m tired of fighting the same-old same-old.” She shot a glance at Jack. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that some of the warriors we play are dead, but if you’re okay with that—”
“I’m okay with that,” Jonah said, entering his cell number into Ellen’s phone. “Actually, dead people are kind of my thing.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kinlocks on the Case
Late that night, Jonah went to see his brother. He often went to see Kenzie after the bars were closed and most of the stragglers had straggled off the street. When day-shift therapies were less likely to interfere.
The air was crisp and cold, and Jonah was glad he’d worn a hoodie under his leather jacket. Close to his destination, he stopped in at an all-night pizzeria he knew. He ordered a large deluxe pie with extra cheese and hoped it would stay warm until he got to Safe Harbor.
As usual, Kenzie heard him coming long before Jonah knocked.
“Hey, bro,” Kenzie said. “Come on in.”
When Jonah opened the door, Kenzie was sitting up in his wheelchair next to the window, his hands fluttering in his lap like panicked birds. He wore a red concert T-shirt, the only spot of color in the otherwise white-and-beige room.
Jonah set the pizza box on the broad window ledge. “I was afraid you might be in bed already.”
“Nah. Just trying to outlast the white coats, as always,”
Kenzie said.
Jonah looked around the room. “So they’re actually doing the minimal stimulation thing?”
“Yeah. They’re trying to do me in—killing me with boredom. And all because I keep driving off my tutors.”
“Well, if you’d stop setting things on fire,” Jonah said.
“They seem to find it off-putting.”
“Wimps,” Kenzie said.
Jonah plucked at Kenzie’s brilliant T-shirt. “This your idea?”
Kenzie nodded. “Can we go out?”
“It’s cold out,” Jonah warned him, shedding his leather jacket.
“I don’t care. I’m tired of being in a sensory-controlled environment. I really need some sensory input.”
“Maybe after you eat.”
Kenzie scowled. “There’s no maybe. Only yes or no.”
“Yes or no, then.”
“Asshole,” Kenzie said affectionately. “What’d you bring?”
“Deluxe from Bernini’s.”
“Did you bring me some lyrics?” Kenzie asked. “What do you think? Got any tunes for me?”
“What do
