“By the Soul Oath, I swear to give my soul to Mitrus if he brings my family back to life once the war is over and the world is safe again.”
Instantly, the blood in my palm stung my skin, and I almost jerked away. Micah reached to my wrist. “Hold it there,” he said.
A cold rush replaced the stinging, and it spread out of my hand and into him, just as a wave of coldness reached me, from his hand to my chest. When the energy was gone, he recoiled. I pulled my hand away and stared at it. The blood was gone.
Micah looked down at me. “Done.”
17
I thought I would feel different, as if there was an internal clock ticking the seconds away, counting how long it would take me to die. However, nothing changed. Not really. The only two things that changed: A tense cloud began circling me, reminding me the others didn’t know about the Soul Oath and I didn’t want them to know, and the despair and helplessness in me changed into hope and purpose. I had a mission now, a mission that wouldn’t completely absolve me of my guilt, but it would fix at least everything in the end.
After the Soul Oath, Micah helped clean the kitchen. Neither of us said a word, and I couldn’t help but notice I had never seen him so tense, so unlike himself. Since he had entered the kitchen, he hadn’t been cocky once, hadn’t called me darling, hadn’t joked or teased me.
“First things first,” Keisha said, bringing my mind to the present. She stood before me in the center of the mat. Again, she wore workout clothes, and her hair was pulled into a tight braid.
When I pulled her aside this morning and asked her to train me, she had sounded ecstatic. Nevertheless, she warned me she was going to be hard on me since I didn’t have years to master whatever she was going to teach me, and because of that, we met at the gym thirty minutes later.
The place really looked like a gym except for the large, oval table squeezed along a wall and a white board hanging over it. There was a mat in the center, weight lifting equipment to one side, treadmills and ellipticals to the other side, and punching dummies and weapons hung on the wall to the far back.
“We begin with stretches.” Keisha showed me what to do, where to pull, and where to bend.
I was rusty but at the same time relieved to be moving. Not because I was in need of exercise—I liked being lazy—but because I needed to occupy my mind. I needed to focus on my current purpose in life.
After stretching she showed me how get in a stance to deliver punches and how to clench my fists so the punches didn’t hurt as much. It was tiring. Really tiring. Yet, it still made me feel useful.
“So,” I said, during one of our three-minute breaks, “how was it to find out everything I told you was real?”
She snorted. “I still think I should pinch myself sometimes. For real, though, it’s … awesome. This feels right. I mean, being here, helping, getting ready to fight. I feel like I waited my entire life to find you in NYC and be led here.”
I wished I had those same feelings. “Is your family okay? I mean they didn’t mind that you left them and came with us?”
Her toned shoulders squared. “I told them I needed to leave. My mother didn’t take it well, but my father noticed something was up and helped me with her.” She wiped her forehead with her towel. “Lady Ceris gave me an untraceable cell phone to give to them so I can call them in case they need to run. Hopefully, I’ll never have to use it.” Her eyes widened. “Shit. Sorry. I … I forgot about your …”
“It’s okay,” I said, offering her a tight smile. “I was the one asking. I’m glad you have a way of reaching them.”
“Me too.” She threw her towel back on a chair and marched to the center of the mat. “Come on. Time to get this really going.”
I perked up—until she explained I was supposed to stand there, ready for a fight, with my legs apart and arms raised in front of my body. She would throw punches at me, and I was supposed to block her. Simple.
However, simple ended up in her connecting her fist with my shoulder, upper arm, and stomach at least ten times each. Each time she hit me, the air flew out of me, and I knew she wasn’t even packing her entire strength in those moves. By the end of the day, I would have purple bruises all over.
She lifted her fist, and I raised my arms to block it.
“What are you doing?” Victor’s irritated voice cut through my focus.
My arms went slack, and Keisha landed her fist on my chin. Pain shot through my bones, and I yelped falling on my side.
“Sorry!” Keisha said, trying to hide her laughter.
I touched my chin, afraid my jaw was broken. I knew it wasn’t, but still, it hurt.
“It’s not funny.” I groaned. Speaking hurt too.
Victor knelt beside me. “Are you okay?” He tried to reach for me, but I stood up on my own.
Micah was in the doorway, his arms crossed and an amused grin on his face. His eyes met mine, and if I didn’t know better, I would say I had imagined the events of the previous night. He was back to his old cocky self. Better this way. I didn’t want anyone knowing what he had seen or what we had done.
I looked from Micah to Victor, ensnared by their beauty as always.
Victor narrowed his eyes. “What are you two doing?”
I placed a hand on my waist and stared at him. “What does it look like?”
He sighed. “Nadine …”
“Since I have no choice but to stay here because of your situation, I want to be useful when the time comes. I asked Keisha to teach me how to fight because I’m tired of cowering and running away.”
“You never cower.”
“But I was never able to really fight either.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not sure I like this.”
“You don’t have to like anything. All you have to do is search for your damn scepter and leave me the hell alone.” I whirled on my feet and took my stance before Keisha. “Again.” She looked past me with worried eyes. “You don’t need their permission.”
“They are my gods,” she whispered. “I kinda do.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“I approve,” Micah said. The satisfied tone in his voice didn’t escape me.
“Stay out of this,” Victor hissed.
“Why? I think Nadine is right. Since she’s here and she’ll probably stay until the end, she might as well be able to help.”
Wait, back up. Micah thought I was right? About fighting?
Victor cursed. “You can’t be serious? What if she gets hurt?”
“She has a better chance of that happening if she doesn’t know how to defend herself or how to fight.”
“Exactly,” I said. Though that wasn’t the real reason I wanted to learn how to fight.
“So, what is it?” Keisha asked, clearly afraid of over stepping her gods.
“Train her. It’s what she wants.” Micah leaned closer with his smug smile, and I tensed. “Besides, chicks fighting? It’s hot.”