Chapter 55
MY FATHER AND I left the house and headed into the barn. Somehow, even though Xanthos was dead, his calming spirit seemed to linger in the air, making his horse crib an ideal place to concentrate.
Dad was in total sensei mode. “You must master the mixed forms of martial arts, Daniel.”
“I already have. Karate, tae kwon do, jeet kune, Brazilian jujitsu.”
“Really?” said my father, circling me. “You know all the moves? All the rules?”
“Yes,” I said, following him with a wary eye. “After all, you’re the one who—”
My father leaped into the most vicious kick he’s ever aimed at me. When his foot hit my groin, I doubled over in pain, which meant I gave him a great target for a fists-locked double uppercut to my chin.
I could taste blood; I’d bitten my tongue.
“There is only one rule when fighting Number 2, Daniel.”
“What is it?”
“There are no rules!”
He pounced on me again.
I slammed up both my arms to block his blows.
“Good, Daniel,” my father said as he used the momentum from my counterstrike to roll into a backward somersault and land in a crouching-tiger position. “But not good enough!”
This time his foot flew in a whirling windmill kick to my face.
This was cage fighting without the cage. And I would need every kick, punch, and combination I could come up with.
Because my father was trying to kill me.
Literally.
He leaped into the air, scissor-wrapped his legs around my neck, and slammed me down to the ground. One second before my skull hit a rock, I countered with a grunting head roll that brought his ankle down on the boulder instead.
Dad screamed in agony when his bone snapped.
Free from his leg hold, I sprang up into a star jump just as he spiraled into a flying twin-knuckle tsuki that socked me in the stomach so hard I thought my lungs would never hold air again.
Clearly, he had completely recovered from his ankle fracture.
“Overconfidence will kill you, son.”
No. My father was going to kill me!
Revved up on adrenaline, I flew into a fight frenzy.
My father and I exchanged a wicked series of blows and counter blows, kicks and counter kicks.
And then we tried to strangle each other.
This went on for at least an hour. A couple of my ribs felt as if they’d splintered like chicken bones. My legs were turning to rubber from sheer exhaustion and the drain of all that adrenaline. And my father wasn’t letting up.
Now that I knew he was definitely trying to kill me, I decided it was time to return the favor.
“Be careful, son,” he taunted as he swaggered around me. “Focus. Fight with your head.”
“Thanks for the suggestion!” I said, hurtling at his gut headfirst, like a battering ram.
But my father became a matador outwitting a charging bull and sidestepped me before I made impact. For good measure, he fist-jabbed me hard in both kidneys as I breezed past his hip.
Dazed and totally embarrassed, I could feel the rage rising up through my neck to scorch the tips of my ears.
“Do not give sway to the negative way,” said my father.
I guess he learned that little ditty from Xanthos, back in the day.
I couldn’t care less. My father was the one who had dragged me into this mess in the first place. He was the one dumb enough to let Number 1 get the drop on him, and then he did absolutely nothing to save my mom. It was my father’s fault that I ended up an orphan, and then what did he do? He left me my inheritance—the stupid List, plus the ridiculous mission to protect an entire planet from all sorts of creeped-out alien invaders, even though I was only a kid. Which, I have to say, seriously screwed me up. Wouldn’t it screw you up? Heck, I couldn’t even have a girlfriend without her getting kidnapped by drooling interplanetary delinquents. And to add insult to injury, every now and then, just for chuckles, my father seemed to pop back into my world so he could boss me around and kick the crap out of me.
So, here and now, all I wanted was to kill my deadbeat dad for all he had done to me. Like ruining my life.
Yeah, I seriously wanted to kill the guy. I wanted to finish this whole stupid Alien Hunter thing right here, right now.
My father relaxed his fists and let his arms hang loosely at his sides.
“I recognize that look in your eye, Daniel.”
“What about it?”
“It is hate, pure and simple. Hate fueled by rage.”
“So?”
“Making his targets slaves to hate is how Abbadon wins, son. It is how he has always won.”