The Guardian (Callista Ryan Series) (40 page)

             
He attempted to keep the disgruntled expression in place, though his eyes went lively and bright. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, and she laughed as she walked into the bathroom.

             
Twenty minutes later, when she emerged from the shower feeling fresh and energized, she saw that Alex had left a clean dress on the bed. She noticed, as she stepped towards it, that it was Shay’s size, and she realized that he must have flown to the Healer’s house to pick up a change of clothes for her.

             
She donned the dress, and walked out of the bedroom, her hair dripping down the length of her back, her skin flushed from the shower. Alex and Zeke were seated at the counter, drinking coffee from large brown mugs. They turned when they heard her entrance, and she saw Alex look on with fondness, possessiveness. Zeke stood and clapped his hands together in a single, loud crack of sound.

             
“Alright. Are we ready?” he asked.

             
“What are we doing?” she asked, moving to the counter and reaching around Alex for his coffee mug, stealing a sip.

             
“Well, now that you’re seeing dead people so well, I figured we’d work on physical contact this morning,” Zeke replied.

             
“Dead people?” Callie asked.

             
Alex snorted. “
The Sixth Sense
,” he clarified. To Zeke, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Seriously? Of all the ESP movies in the world, you went with Shyamalan?”

             
Zeke laughed. “Haven’t been to the theaters lately,” he confessed. “I’ve been too busy blowing stuff up.”

             
“What do you mean, physical contact?” Callie asked. “I didn’t think I’d be fighting.”

             
“You never know,” Zeke said. “And I wouldn’t leave you unable to take a punch. You can’t exactly win a war by fighting like a girl.”

             
Callie crossed her arms, leveling him with a disapproving glance. “Like a girl?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure I saw Serena kick your ass a few times in her memories.”

             
“Exactly. And guess who trained Serena?” Zeke asked. Tilting his head to the door, he said, “Come on. Daylight’s wasting.”

             
“Wait a second,” Alex said, pushing up from his chair. “What are we talking about here? Did Emeric say she had to learn to fight? Her role in this battle is supposed to be strictly passive.”

             
“Emeric didn’t send me today,” Zeke replied. “But c’mon, Alex. You’ve seen the way these chicks do business. You think they’re just going to sit around while your gal plows through their brains? This is the safest plan. She learns how to fight, and maybe she’ll be able to fend them off.”

             
“Who says they’re getting near her?” Alex growled.

             
“
She’s
getting near
them
, remember?” Zeke asked. “What, you think we’re going to put her in some ivory tower, let her work the mind control thing from afar? She’s got to be in spitting distance of them for this to work.”

             
“But—“

             
“Look, I know you think you’re going to be there to rip the head off of anyone who touches her. But things get messy in battle. You might be called away for a split second, and then what?” Zeke asked. “You really want her to be helpless?”

             
“Who says I’m helpless?” Callie asked, frustrated that they were talking about her like she was an infant.

             
Zeke smirked. “Alright. Hit me.”

             
Callie started. “What?” she asked.

             
“Let’s go. Hit me. Show me how able you are to wage an attack.” When she still didn’t move, he spread his arms wide, leaving his body vulnerable. “Impress me.”

             
“I—here?” she asked, nervous. “No. I mean, I’m not going to hit you.”

             
Zeke shifted his eyes to Alex as though he’d made a point.

             
When Alex didn’t reply, Callie turned to him. He was looking at the ground, his hands on his hips, his head hung.

             
“Alex?” Zeke asked. “What do you think?”

             
Alex sighed, and then turned to Callie. “Maybe it would be better…”

             
“You’re kidding,” she said. “Really, you don’t think I can do it?”

             
“The choice is yours,” he said.

             
But she noted the doubtful way he was looking at her, the worry which had crept into his eyes at the idea that she would be asked to fight. She turned incredulously to Zeke.

             
“Fine. You know what? Let’s do it,” she said, stalking towards him and grabbing his arm, pulling him to the door.

             
“Callie,” Alex said, sounding as though he were about to apologize.

             
“No,” she said. “This will be good. In fact, I sort of want to punch you both right now.” Under her breath, she muttered, “I’ll show you how a girl fights.”

             
Zeke chuckled, and then swept her up from behind, diving through the trees as he flew them towards the beach. Callie looked over his shoulder and through his wings, and saw that Alex wasn’t far behind.

             
They landed on the same patch of beach that Zeke had been training Callie on all week. Today, the swells of waves were larger, the cotton white heads curving up in great arcs before crashing down onto the shoreline. Pointed formations of grey birds soared overhead, disappearing into the far horizon. Callie turned and watched as Alex landed not a minute later, and she felt her blood heating once again. This time, however, it wasn’t the effect of Alex’s proximity. She was irritated to the point of anger that he was
still
regarding her as though she were a delicate creature, easily broken, unable to defend herself.

             
Well, she would just have to teach him how wrong he was.

             
Zeke was the first to step towards Callie. He had his drill sergeant face on, as though he were about to show her the basics of fighting.

             
“Okay,” he said, walking up to her. “The first thing you need to know about throwing a decent punch is—“

             
But as soon as he was close enough, Callie pulled one fist backwards, and, with all the force of a tightly-wound slingshot, she allowed it to plummet into his jaw. He didn’t see it coming. The punch landed squarely under his chin, thrusting his head upwards and to the right until he was knocked off balance and had to stagger to remain upright.

             
Callie winced and shook her hand. He had a strong jaw, stronger than any of the Sirens could claim. But then, before her eyes, the bright red splotch that had taken root on her knuckles faded to purple, and then green, and then yellow. And before she blinked again, it was gone.

             
She looked up, suckling her knuckles, and saw that Alex’s eyes were widened in shock. His jaw had gone slack; his face had been consumed by astonishment. And then she saw why.

             
Zeke was hunched over, one hand reaching down to the ground to brace his body, as his severely dislocated jaw twinged and buckled and snapped to replace itself. No wonder the punch had hurt so much, Callie thought.

             
“What,” Zeke said, spitting out a mouthful of blood once his jaw was back in place, “the hell was that?”

             
“
That
was why I didn’t want to hit you in the first place,” Callie retorted, crossing her arms.

             
“Where did you learn to throw like that, Cal?” Zeke asked, standing erect, looking more amazed than upset that she had broken him.

             
Callie shrugged. “My dad taught Maggie and me when we were kids. The first thing you need to know about throwing a punch: don’t tuck your thumb in. Lead with your hips. Aim from the elbow. Oh, and only hit someone when he asks for it. And I’m pretty sure that being a blatant chauvinist is asking for it.”

             
“Kid, that was….” Zeke said, trailing off as he floundered for the right word.

             
“Incredible,” Alex filled in, and when Callie looked at him now, she saw that an odd mixture of pride and lust had taken hold of his features. He was grinning slightly, secretively. It made Callie’s stomach flutter just to see him look at her that way.

             
“Alright,” Zeke said, bouncing his shoulders a few times, shaking off the hit. “What else have you got?”

             
Callie would have argued that she didn’t need to train. She would have protested that she had just made her point that she wasn’t defenseless. But punching Zeke had felt…good. Liberating.

             
“What have you got in mind?” she asked.

             
Zeke’s lips twitched. “Why don’t we take you for a test drive? I’m thinking that a sparring match is in order. I’ll figure out your weak points, give you a few tips.”

             
Nerves clutched hold of Callie, causing her skin to itch in both anticipation and fear. Even now, as he stood over her, Zeke was an intimidating figure. He didn’t tower over her, but he didn’t shrink away from her, either. He had a build particular to wrestlers and quarterbacks, and Callie didn’t know if she could take him on in a full-fledged fight.

             
But then Alex said in a warning tone, “Zeke. She is not Serena; she is not immortal. You will not hurt her.”

             
“Don’t worry, friend, I won’t hurt your little girl,” Zeke said, though the way he said it, the way he smiled at Callie as he said it, made clear the fact that he was challenging her.

             
And so she took a deep breath, and replied, “Why not?”

             
Which was when Zeke set his jaw, as though alerting her to the fact that she wouldn’t be hitting him again like she had just done a minute ago, and settled into a deep crouch, his arms spread widely to either side. His eyes glittered with warning, and then, so quickly that the rest of the world seemed to freeze, he pounced. His wings were the only give-away that he had moved at all, their extension registering only briefly in Callie’s mind before a forearm snaked around her throat. Another arm wrapped around her belly, and both yanked her backwards into a steely wall of muscled chest.

             
“Not so quick on your feet just now, were you sweetheart?” Zeke asked.

             
Callie thrust her right knee out in front of her, and then jerked her right foot backwards, before hearing the satisfying crunch as the pad of her heel connected with Zeke’s kneecap. She heard him hiss in pain, dropping his arms from their restraining grip and hobbling backwards on his good leg. She turned around. “My feet work just fine, thanks,” she retorted.

             
The splintered bone fragments beneath the now bumpy skin were piecing back together, though, and it wasn’t a moment before Zeke took a confident and pain-free step towards her on his right leg.

             
“Daddy was pretty thorough,” he muttered.

             
“No, that was just instinct,” Callie admitted. “Which is why I think I’d be fine in a—“

             
But she didn’t get to finish her sentence, because right then Zeke lunged forwards, his torso lowered enough that it was parallel to the ground, his arms extended in front of him. Callie gasped as she instinctively braced for the impact, cringing for several seconds before she realized that it wasn’t going to come.

             
She glanced up, and straightened with annoyance when she saw that Alex was pinning Zeke to the ground with a fist around his throat. Zeke sighed and rolled his eyes, though he began to claw at Alex’s hand after a moment once the air supply had been completely cut off.

             
“Alex,” Callie scolded him.

             
He turned to face her, his expression cool and emotionless, his manner unapologetic.

             
“Let go of him,” she demanded.

             
He looked back down at Zeke, before standing up and extending a hand. Zeke took Alex’s hand and let his friend help him up, apparently unfazed by the reaction. Callie suspected that Zeke had been expecting Alex to respond in such a way.

             
“Alex, you can’t butt in. If you do, then I might as well not even be here. You and Zeke can just fight each other,” Callie said.