Chapter 8
The squad was nowhere to be seen when Fay finally rose from the grogginess of the vision. She was back in the tent, wearing a basic shirt and pants, feet bare. The sheets were cool against her arms, soft, like a gentle touch. She wasn’t cold, though, and as she sat up, letting the sheets fall to her waist, she looked around. Then she realised she wasn’t alone.
Lucilla stirred in one of the nearby beds, sitting up slowly, blinking. She pushed back her pale blonde hair with a decisive sweep of her hand, then shoved her legs out, standing up in a sharp movement. With a frown she looked around, saw Fay was watching her.
“Where’s the squad?”
“Beats me. I just woke up.”
“You were killed?” Lucilla asked with a frown.
“Me? No. I…I collapsed. I think. Pretty sure I wasn’t hurt,” said Fay, scrambling for an answer – better to be known for random blackouts than visions.
People got jumpy when they thought you were psychic.
The answer, at least, seemed to satisfy Lucilla, even if her mind was elsewhere. “Can’t handle blood?”
“Blood I can handle,” said Fay. “I don’t know. I just blackout sometimes. It was something I expected would’ve stopped happening after I turned. Imagine my surprise when it didn’t.”
It was a lie and she was laying it on thick. She had to. They might forgive her for visions, jumpiness aside, but if they knew what she saw, then she was dead. A one-way ticket to Tartarus was guaranteed and though she wanted to go there, get answers if possible, she wanted to go there on her own terms. Who knew what might happen if she was sent.
“I’m not normally so sloppy,” said Lucilla awkwardly.
“I didn’t say you were,” murmured Fay.
“I was distracted. The demon was…unexpected. Don’t suppose you saw who ended up catching it?” Lucilla asked.
“Alexander and Marcus shadowed, then reappeared, pinning the demon down. So, them,” said Fay with a small smile when she saw Lucilla’s face scrunch up. “Not a good thing?”
“Let’s just say they’ll harp on it,” she said, as if the boys bragging was nothing new to her – a source of irritation, if anything. “Oh well.”
Fay remembered the dinner with the gentle teasing. There seemed to be, for the most part, no bad blood amongst them – a complicated past, maybe, but not bad blood. Diana was the exception, of course. How she fitted into everything, what her story was, remained a mystery and not one Fay felt inclined to go digging around for.
“They’re probably sparring. How are you feeling?” Lucilla asked, staring at her expectantly.
Clearly, she wanted Fay to join her, to find the squad if they actually were sparring. Slowly, Fay nodded and swung her legs off the bed, then stood. No nausea blurred her vision so she changed into her sparring uniform, tightening up the laces as she sat back on her bed. Lucilla did the same, methodical, silent. When she stood she straightened up, looking more like a trained killer than Fay was – all sharpened edges, gleaming blades.
“Ready?” Lucilla asked, walking to the exit.
Fay nodded, following her out. Together, they walked down to the sparring yards. Sure enough, the squad was there, paired off. Even Remus was amongst it, sparring off with Motep. Yet, the second Lucilla appeared Tiberius stopped; he saw her, then went back to the fight, and slammed his foot into Marcus’s chest, sending him flying. Before Marcus could rise Tiberius sheathed his sword and was striding across the yard, straight to Lucilla. He cupped her face, kissed her soundly, then drew back.
“How are you feeling?”
She kissed him back, then moved to his side. “It’s not the first time I’ve spun back up. So, how’d the mission go?”
“Apart from you dying and that one passing out?” Tiberius said, shooting Fay a questioning look – clearly, the squad was left confused why she suddenly collapsed. “Fine. We caught a demon, though no one has been able to identify it. Tamora is coming down herself to have a look.”
Lucilla frowned. “Tamora? Does that mean the others are coming, too? Nibiru?”
Fay shot Lucilla a startled look. Was this Tamora one of the hounds that she’d seen with Nibiru, one of his inner circle? Lucilla ignored her, all focus on her husband, whom shook his head to her question.
“Just Tamora. She’ll head over to The Pits to see the demon, see what she thinks. Aside from that, Remus was happy with the result. The boys thought fast and shadowed after the demon. Everyone else reacted accordingly. Well, almost everyone.”
Fay raised her hands. “I am here, you know?”
Tiberius turned to her. “I know. What I would like to know if you collapsing is something we should become accustomed to.”
Fay clenched her jaw, said nothing. If she said it wouldn’t happen it would be a lie. Deep down she knew the visions were far from over. Yet how could she explain that without actually saying what she saw? How could she possibly get them to understand?
She didn’t have to explain, however, as Remus stalked over, smelling of sweat and the camp. A thin sheen of sweat gleamed on his skin. He looked down at her with studying eyes, then beckoned her silently to follow. Obediently, she did, and fell into step beside him as they left the sight of the sparring yard. When sufficiently clear he stopped and looked down at her.
“That was a vision you had, wasn’t it?” He asked but, before she could say anything, he went on. “I don’t want to know what you saw. What I want to know is how frequent they are.”
“It depends,” she conceded carefully. “Before I came here they were closer together, one a day, sometimes twice. Now, it’s slower but they feel longer, more intense. These normal for hounds?”
Remus’s mouth twitched. “No but nothing about you is normal. Don’t think I didn’t notice how that demon reacted to you – hell, how the forest reacted to you. Hounds sometimes develop abilities. It’s not unheard of. I’ve only seen a few with similar abilities, though in your case, the whole collection of abilities seems unique.”
“There’s others?”
“A few have come and gone with the ability to see visions. As for demons I only ever saw one other – Medea. Nibiru’s right hand. I guess now she’s gone you are the only one.”
Fay thought about Medea, her final words. She seemed so brave, even though she knew what had been coming. Condemned to Tartarus for eternity was enough to drive anyone mad. Most of all, really, she remembered how betrayed Medea had looked – not because Abe had come for her, to end her – but because he’d made promises to free hounds, somehow, and failed to deliver. Nebiru was planning a revolution, albeit a slow one. She had the quiet feeling that the plan was kept entirely within the inner circle.
“What does that mean for me?” She asked finally.
“You’ll remain in this squad. A gift like yours is useful, one that could give us the upper hand in the trials. I admit, your visions do concern me – if you pass out in Tartarus it becomes a risk for us. Not a big one, however. Challenges are to be expected there,” he confessed.
Clearly, Diana and he had their own motives for Tartarus – one that extended beyond glory. But what? What could be in the Tartarus worth risking everything? It seemed precarious, at best. She kept quiet. She had her own selfish reasons for wanting to go to Tartarus and the mission was her best chance; once there, she’d likely have to break away, go find Andromeda herself – unless, that is, the mission led them to her, then Fay didn’t have to ditch.
“You don’t want to know what I see – why?” commented Fay.
He started to walk back to the sparring yard. “It’s complicated.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Yes, but it’s best not to know the future. Complicates things,” he replied. “You risk making things worse than the vision.”
“How do you know my visions are bad?”
In the corner of his eye he studied her but said nothing. Instead, he pointed to the squad. “Look at this – what do you see?”
Their focus was on each other, on the fight, not on Fay and Remus. Even Diana, who was deflecting Arcus’s swift and clinical blows, looking like she wasn’t even breaking a sweat. In fact, she looked utterly composed, as happy as might be possible for her. It was her natural element, Fay realised, the blood and sand and sweat. Fay looked beyond her as Nadia rolled to the side, missing the wide arc of Alexander’s blade. She laughed defiantly at him, her eyes glimmering with a challenge, which only deepened his frown in response. Nadia was toying with him. Advancing past them she watched Lucilla and Tiberius fight, without restraint, like they weren’t a married couple. There was a grace to their fighting the others didn’t have, a fluidity with each step. They were familiar with each other, whilst seemingly trying to invent new ways to fight each other. Lucilla stepped forward as he swung, startling him, then she dropped low and swung her foot beneath him, sending him straight onto his back. Before he could move she had the sword at his throat and he stared up, smiling affectionately. He wasn’t the only one. Both twins were sparring with Marcus, whom seemed to relish in the challenge of fighting two. Still, he held his own, as the twins came at him, one succinct blow after another.
Only one wasn’t fighting. Motep. He was sharpening his blade off to the side, one shoulder bandaged up with a thin streak of blood peeking through. His gaze was on the sword but his mind seemed a world away.
“I see them sparring,” she said, glancing back to Remus. “Is this the part where you say I should see more?”
Remus nodded. “This is your family now. Believe it or not we’ve all felt like outcasts at one point or another. Do not think you’re unique in this. This squad isn’t like others – we’re mismatched pieces, the throwaways other squads deemed as broken or useless.”
Fay smiled. “Are you saying I’m broken?”
“We’re all a little broken when we come here. Most of us were given the choice to become hounds, usually at the point when our lives have been torn apart. Even those of us who were born this way have lost those normal lives we clung to. It leaves cracks that even we don’t want to see,” he said calmly. “My point is this squad, this family, could be yours – if you want it.”
“If? You say that like I have a choice if I’m here or not,” retorted Fay, though her voice had softened.
He looked back to the squad, shadows in his eyes. A flash of pain darkened his face, made him seem grim, as if remembering something from long ago. It seemed he was right, they had wounds, scars, himself included. Herself included. She wasn’t blind to her wounds. They were there, raw and festering, and she had no idea how to heal them. Not when she was at war with her own mind, when the visions were slowly consuming her. She was an outsider, always had been, even before she turned. Falling for a werewolf hadn’t made that any easier.
“You might surprise yourself with how much choice you have,” he said carefully. When he looked back at her his eyes were clear, focused. “Trust this team and they’ll have your back, no matter what.”
Fay couldn’t meet his eyes. In her mind all she saw was Andromeda and her plan that was still unfolding, even as Fay stood there, trying to see a family in a squad that would just as quickly kill her if they knew the truth.
Will they? She wondered doubtfully.
She spent the rest of the day sparring under the baking heat, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Grains of sand clung to her skin every time Motep, her latest partner, tripped or hurled her into the sand – literally. With fast healing no one held back on blows; if you were cut or had a broken bone, then you might rest for a few minutes to heal, otherwise you went on. Bruises never lingered, the ache only lingering on for a few minutes after, whilst every fresh blow hurt anew.
As Motep and she switched to a sword she was once again on the defensive, reeling as he came at her, a blur of swift slashes and jabs. She barely had time to get the sword up before another blow came, jarring her shoulders.
“Every fighter has a weakness. You just have to find it,” hissed Motep.
She deflected his blow. “Kind of hard when I’m focusing on not getting carved up.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” he snapped. “Watch me, study me, just like you did Diana. You are capable, you’ve done it before.”
It was true. When she fought Diana, she’d seen how she fought, the way her blows came. There was a desperation to her attacks but Motep was sharp, clinical. Every blow was precise and bore with it years of practise, both from this life and another. If he had a weakness she didn’t see it, couldn’t see it. He was a refined warrior, honourable, practised.
Her mind sung. That’s it.
As he came at her again she spun away, dropped the sword which startled him for a split second. She didn’t hesitate, hurling two bolts of energy straight at him, slamming straight into his chest. Motep went flying, crashing into a table of weapons at the end of the yard. Around her, the squad stopped, stared. Fay lowered her hands, slowly, exhaling deeply, never looking away from Motep. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, pain flashing across his face; yet, once standing, he stared at her, then nodded. She grabbed his sword and walked over, acutely aware of everyone watching, even a couple hounds that were from other squads.
Before Motep she held out his sword to him, smiling. “Not hurt too bad?”
He rubbed his shoulder with a wry smile. “Good attack.”
“You fight fair, honourably. Figured that the only way to beat you was to cheat. You’re better than me at swords, so no matter how much I fought today, you’re more experienced. So, I did what I could, used what I knew,” she said with a flush of pride.
Truth be told it wasn’t easy to accept there were other hounds better trained than her, even though she’d known of their existence in a detached sort of way. Harder still to work with them, to realise you’re the weak link, especially in experience. It was still a long way before she was useful properly in the squad but if she survived Andromeda’s plan then the squad could be her family. Maybe. She just had to forget she was enslaved to Hades, that Andromeda was bound to her and that she was maybe a little crazy. Still, she was better down here than Amanda, whom she hoped Abe was treating right. Better than he had with her, anyway. That she had the life she wanted. She also hoped Ben and Mel were okay, that their lives were normal again. She tried not to think about Lilian and Jackson, whom had been absent in the fight with Tash. Wherever they were, she knew she hadn’t seen the last of them.
“Perhaps there is hope for you yet – there is still a long way to go before that, however,” he said grudgingly. “Let’s go again.”
She followed him back to the centre, whilst the others had resumed their respective fights, and stopped, holding her sword, ready to fight. Motep nodded, then came at her, sword glinting –
A distance scream splintered the air.
He stopped. They all did.
The scream resounded again, blood curdling. A figure sprinted past the yard, away from the source – or tried too, anyway. Remus lashed the guy with a thread of energy, tripping him up. The squad jogged over as Remus dragged the guy back, then rolled him over.
“What’s going on?”
He glared furiously up at Remus, scathing. “Demons loose in The Pits. That thing you guys brought is killing hounds – they’re not respawning!”
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