Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

With a sigh, she turned her focus back to Zoe. ‘So why did Dom come back to Cimmeria now?’


‘Because I asked her to.’ Raj’s voice made them both jump and they spun round to see him standing behind them; his expression was dark. ‘We needed her help. But right now I’m not convinced that wasn’t a mistake. Zoe, your kick is coming from your lower back, not your abdominals. Work on that.’

As he strode off with silent steps, Zoe said in tones of reverence, ‘He walks like a ghost. It is amazing.’



When training ended that night, Allie began to follow the others out to the dressing room but Sylvain walked up to her.

‘Could you wait a second, please?’

She looked up at him in surprise. They’d barely spoken since their argument.

‘Sure,’ she said cautiously. ‘What’s up?’

He looked around the room. The other students were streaming out into the changing rooms. ‘It’s… Well. I will explain in a minute.’

She searched his face for clues but his blue eyes were unreadable. As the room emptied, Carter came over but stayed some distance away, hands shoved in his pockets. Allie tried to catch his eye but he seemed to purposefully avoid her gaze.

Then Zoe, Nicole and Rachel came to stand with them, too.

‘What’s going on?’ Allie asked suspiciously. ‘Is this an intervention or something?’

No one smiled.

Only when they were completely alone in the training room did Sylvain answer her question. ‘If you’re going to the parley, we have to prepare.’

Allie was confounded. ‘I thought that was what we just did. Isn’t two and a half hours of kicking the crap out of each other preparation?’

‘It helps,’ Carter said. ‘But you’ve dealt with Nathaniel before. You know what he’s like. He doesn’t play by the rules.’

Walking to the edge of the room, he crouched down and felt for something underneath the rubber matting. After a moment, he pulled out two objects Allie couldn’t quite see.

Then he turned round. In one hand he held a lethal-looking dagger. In his other he held a gun.

The blood drained from Allie’s face.

Unnerved, she stared at the knife. The scar on her arm throbbed.

‘Carter,’ she whispered, ‘where did you get those?’

‘Don’t worry. They’re fake.’ Sylvain seemed pleased by her reaction. ‘Raj got them for us to work with.’

‘But,’ Carter said, ‘they’re very good fakes.’

With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed Sylvain the gun; Sylvain caught it with one hand.

Allie looked around the room – Rachel and Nicole both avoided her gaze. Zoe was watching the weapons with excited anticipation. Nobody seemed surprised by what was happening.

‘What’s happening here?’

Still holding the gun, Sylvain turned to Allie, his blue gaze steady. ‘We’re going to practise with the weapons Nathaniel will mostly likely use. We need to know how to protect ourselves from them.’

Carter pulled the dagger from its sheath with a soft snick.

The weapon glimmered silver in the dim light. Allie couldn’t take her eyes off it.

It might be a fake but it looked lethal enough.

‘It’s unsharpened.’ Carter dragged the blade across his forearm, holding up his arm to show off the unblemished skin.

Taking the knife from him, Zoe turned it over in her hand. She touched the end experimentally with the tip of her finger.

‘You could do some damage with the pointy bit,’ she announced.

‘No stabbing, then,’ Rachel said faintly. ‘We should probably make that a rule.’

Rachel looked a bit green but not disapproving or upset and Allie couldn’t understand why. This was exactly the sort of thing she hated. Why wasn’t she protesting?

The cool clarity of realisation hit her like cold water. They were trying to convince her she was wrong about the parley the same way she’d wanted to convince Rachel she was wrong about Night School – by letting her go ahead with it. Hoping she’d drop out.

Dropping her hands to her sides she curled them into fists.

‘OK then.’ Her voice was tight. ‘Let’s do this.’





18





Eighteen





‘Go for the wrist.’ Carter’s voice was sharper than the knife in his hand. Allie gripped his wrist hard but he twisted his arm until, somehow, the knife ended up pointed at her throat.

‘You’re dead,’ he said. ‘Try again.’

Sweat ran down Allie’s face, stinging her eyes. They’d been practising with the weapons for nearly an hour. She’d already been tired at the end of normal Night School training. Now her muscles felt like rubber.

Across the room, Rachel pointed a gun at Zoe, who promptly kicked it from her hand, sending it flying through the air.

Clutching the hand she’d kicked, Rachel grimaced at the younger girl. ‘Uh … that’s great, Zoe. You live. I, on the other hand, need extensive reconstructive surgery.’

‘Yes.’ Zoe gave a victorious air punch.

‘Again, Allie.’ Carter drew her gaze back to the blade. ‘You have to get better at this.’