The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (14 page)

“Thanks a lot,
kiddo.”

“Ok, fine. So,
here’s another one. After the exhibition, I’ll invite you over for movie night.
We’ll grab a pizza for supper and have popcorn and stuff. It’ll be fun.”

“And you think
Maya won’t see through that.”

“Oh, she’ll see
right through it,” she assured him. “But once you get there and snuggle with
her on the couch, you can wear her down and talk her into a date.”

Not for one second
did he believe Maya would allow any of that to happen. “We’ll see.”

“Trust me, Dr.
T. It’ll work.” Dierdre glanced at her watch. “Whoops! Gotta run. Class starts
in ten. Don’t wanna be late.” She jumped up and rushed over, hugged him hard,
and hustled toward the door. “Don’t forget the plan, Dr. T. I’m counting on
you.”

She shut the
door behind herself. James slouched into his chair, torn between amusement and
exasperation. How sad was it that a fourteen-year-old girl thought he needed
her help getting a date with her mother?

Pretty damn sad
and probably true. Maya hadn’t caved after The Dance, and while he wasn’t in a
hurry to start a relationship with her, he’d at least like to see where this
attraction would lead. To do that, he had to talk her into a date or at least
find a way to spend time with her outside of work.

The fighting
lesson Dierdre had suggested was out of the question and having Maya’s daughter
invite him over was just pathetic. Surely no man could ever be that desperate.
Nope, he’d stick to his own plan and hope for the best.

God help him.

Maya spent a
week avoiding James outside of work. No more girls’ nights out, no more running
on the track on campus, just in case. Meals were a little trickier, since they
saw each other every day as the translations steadily progressed, but she’d
managed to avoid him there as often as not.

He hadn’t asked
her out again.

She threw her
pen down in a huff. What was wrong with the man? One minute he was giving her
the shy man’s version of a full court press, and the next, he barely gave her
the time of day. Fickle man.

Grimly, she
shoved him out of her mind and stared at the photographs in front of her,
trying to concentrate on the text she had to translate into English. The
urgency to decipher the texts found in the unknown Daughter’s grave pushed at
her each day. While James had started on the older scripts, she was tackling
the easiest, a scroll written in Latin dating possibly from the third century
C.E.

She’d chosen
this particular document not to horn in on James’ territory, but because it was
one language she was very familiar with. Unlike most schools in the U.S.,
schools for Daughters and Sons still taught Latin and ancient Greek, for the
same reason their children learned to read and write cursive handwriting, to
preserve their history. The IECS Archives and its counterparts around the world
held documents written in a variety of languages, including the Classical
languages. It would be foolish to let them die out and thus lose the ability to
read their own history.

Five more
minutes of futile effort, then ten, and Maya realized her concentration was
shot. With a discouraged sigh, she rubbed her hands over her face, tugging her
fingers through her hair in frustration.

Maybe she needed
more sleep. Her nights over the past week had been restless. Pushing her body
to the breaking point night after night hadn’t kept her from reliving that evening
at the bar in her sleep, or, as she usually thought of it, The Foolishness.
What had she been thinking?

It was useless
to dwell on it. She knew this. There was no changing the past and no point
wasting time with regrets.

Except, a small,
secret part of her didn’t regret the evening spent in James’ arms. She’d tried
very hard to quell that part of herself, without success.

Would it be so
bad to go out with him? She folded her arms on her work table and rested her
head on them, eyes closed as she imagined a date with James. She’d wear the
dress Dierdre had talked her into buying on their last shopping trip, a filmy
little black number with a fluid skirt that swirled to a stop just above her
knees. He’d be in slacks and that shirt she liked, the sky blue one that was
slightly fitted, with a tie and jacket. They could go to Mama G’s, have
something fabulously decadent, and listen to a good live band. And at the end
of the evening, after they’d laughed and talked and danced until the wee hours
of the morning, he’d bring her home and pull her into his arms and press his
lips against hers…

A knock rapped
against the door, startling Maya awake. She scrubbed her hands over her face and
bit back a curse. How sad was it that she’d fallen asleep daydreaming about
James?

Dierdre popped
her head around the door. “Come on, Mom. We’re gonna be late.”

Right. The
exhibition. She’d almost forgotten. Maya checked her watch. If she hurried, she
had just enough time to change. “Sorry, Squiggles. I dozed off for a minute.”

“I knew it!
You’ve not been getting enough sleep.”

“No biggie,”
Maya said, smiling softly. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Dierdre cocked
her head, her own smile sly. “Like a certain Dr. T.?”

“Knock it off,
shorty, or I’ll rearrange the roster so I can spank your little bottom
tonight.”

“Bring it, Big
Mama.”

Maya grabbed her
gym bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Speaking of, who did I pull in the
draw?”

Dierdre
grimaced. “India Furia.”

“Great.” To be
matched against that particular Daughter on top of everything else. Maya pursed
her lips, quelling a sigh, and shared a commiserating glance with her daughter
as they locked up Maya’s on-campus lab.

The walk across
campus relaxed Maya, enough for her to shunt aside her unease over fighting
India. She and Dierdre joined the steady stream of Daughters, mortal and
immortal alike, making their way into the gym’s dressing rooms.

The youngest students
were marching onto the gym floor by the time Maya finished dressing. She
hurried through the final touches so she could watch them. It was always her
favorite part of these events, seeing the happiness on their cherubic faces,
before time and reality had a chance to dull it.

Dierdre spotted
her training coach and jogged off to join her group, shouting goodbyes over her
shoulder as she went. Maya tugged a jacket on over her athletic clothes and
hurried into the gym, settling herself into the bleachers on the opposite side
of the crowd.

Just as all Daughters
and Sons learned certain academic subjects, they also all spent a lot of time
on physical development and training. Gymnastics and martial arts were started
at young ages, training the mind and body to be flexible and disciplined.

As the children
began their routines on the mats scattered across the gym’s floor, a tiny
tingle shivered up Maya’s spine. She glanced up and spotted James on the
opposite side of the gym. He was leaning against the railing at the top of the
bleachers chatting with Robert Upton, but his eyes were fixed on her.

The strangest
feeling shuddered through her. Her muscles clenched and butterflies fluttered
in her stomach. It took Maya a moment to figure out that those butterflies were
her nerves setting up a ruckus. She closed her eyes and groaned. How could a
nearly three hundred-year-old woman skilled in the warrior arts possibly be
nervous about a simple exhibition fight?

James was still
watching her, and it hit her then that she was nervous because
he
was
there.

When he looked
away, she slipped into the dressing room to warm up and unwind. She’d need all
of her focus tonight and simply couldn’t afford to have anything distracting
her, not even the increasingly attractive James Terhune.

* * *

The gym was
nearly full by the time James arrived. He pushed through the crowded foyer into
an empty spot against the railing overlooking the gym floor, painted in
standard lines for basketball and volleyball. The bleachers were jam packed, so
he leaned against the railing instead, his eyes scanning the crowd. An older
man in a wheelchair rolled up beside him. James scooted over, making room.

“Good crowd,”
the man said, his lined face set in a friendly smile.

James nodded.
The number of people in attendance had surprised him until a group of four and
five year old children had walked onto the floor. The exhibition must feature a
large variety of age groups. Looked like the whole neighboring town might be in
attendance. “Do you have a child competing?”

“Oh, no. My
children are too old for this.” The man stuck his hand out. “Robert Upton.”

James shook
Robert’s hand. “Director Upton’s husband.”

“Right on the
first try. You must be our new language expert. I’ve been meaning to catch up
with you.”

“You and
everybody else,” James said, his smile wry.

“New kid on the
block. It’ll wear off in a couple of months, once everyone’s had a chance to
pick your brains.”

“Don’t think
I’ll have anything left once this crowd gets through with me.”

Robert laughed,
a hearty, infectious boom.

Across the gym,
people trickled in and out of dressing rooms. Dierdre came out with a group of
people her age, giggling and cutting up. A few minutes later, Maya entered the
gym floor and found a seat in the bleachers across from him. Disappointment
twisted through him. She wore a coat over athletic wear similar to the outfit
Dierdre had worn to his office the week before. He’d been waiting a whole week
to see Maya dressed that way and had hoped reality came close to his
imagination. Heat spilled into his gut, strong and steady, and he shifted
against the railing. Maybe not too close to reality, not in public anyway.

The youngest
group of children finished their set of gymnastics and martial arts forms to
enthusiastic applause, their young faces beaming. After, two successively older
groups performed ever more complex maneuvers. A break was called and the mats
were rearranged across the hardwood floor, leaving four behind.

James chatted off
and on with Robert, surprised to discover the other man had known James’ father
during their early days as professors at UConn.

“I was teaching
history at the time to large groups of students who were more interested in
dating than studying,” Robert said. “Then I came here to do some research, fell
in love with Rebecca, and that was that.”

A group of
middle-school students ran out and divided into four groups of nearly equal
size. Two students from each of the groups stepped onto one of the four mats
and faced each other, bowed, and assumed fighting stances. The other students
sat down out of the way as referees stepped up to the mats. A bell sounded and
the students on the mats sprang into action, attacking each other with fierce
punches and kicks.

The crowd went
wild, cheering the students on. Robert managed a shouted explanation over the
noise. Each pair was given five minutes to score three points or knock their opponent
completely off the mat. Two of the fighting couples were composed of a male and
a female each instead of the students being paired by sex. James made a mental
note to ask Maya about that later, then patted his pockets absent-mindedly for
a piece of paper to write the reminder on.

Another bell
dinged and the competitions immediately stopped. The spectators broke into
applause. The students bowed to one another and, without fail, walked off the
mats grinning, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Two more
students settled themselves onto each mat and the competitions began again,
cycling through all the students waiting on the sidelines.

Dierdre’s group
came out next carrying wooden sticks.

James nodded
toward the floor. “Should I be worried?”

“Ah, yes. I
heard you were stepping out with Maya.”

James didn’t
bother denying it. What was one voice against the community grape vine?

Robert threaded
his fingers together at his waist. “As far as worrying, there’s no need. These
young people can take of themselves. You’ll see.”

And James did.
Dierdre stepped onto one of the mats, her body relaxed, her face a picture of
intense focus. A young man stepped onto the mat facing her. The two bowed and
assumed ready positions.

“Who’s her
opponent?” James asked.

“Johnny Linton.
I hear he has a crush on her.”

James frowned as
the bell dinged and the students began sparring. He soon saw that Robert was
right. Dierdre could certainly take care of herself. She scored her first point
by coming in under Johnny’s swing, sweeping him off his feet with her staff,
and tapping him lightly on the chest with the staff’s end. Johnny took the next
point on the rebound, catching Dierdre off guard as she stepped away and gave
him room to regain his footing. Her face hardened and she went into a
controlled attack that would’ve been brutally vicious if not for the fact that
when it came time to score points, the hits were lightly made.

The bell dinged
a moment after she scored her third point. She and Johnny bowed to one another,
slung casual arms around each other’s shoulders, and walked off grinning. As
she sat down, Dierdre shared her grin with James and waved at him.

He waved back,
ignoring the curious stares and whispers directed his way.

After Dierdre’s
group finished, another break was called and the floor was rearranged again.
This time, a single mat slightly larger than the others was pulled out into the
center of the floor.

“Ah.” Robert
leaned back in his wheelchair and rubbed his hands together, a huge smile
wrinkling his face. “Now the real sport begins.”

Two women
entered the mat, each carrying a sturdy, yard-long stick similar to the ones
Dierdre and her crew had used. One of the women was older and looked vaguely
familiar, though James couldn’t quite pin down why. Like most of the people
he’d seen in his time at the IECS, she was trim and fit. Her light blonde hair
was pulled into a ponytail high on the back of her head. He searched his
memory, trying to put a name with her face, and came up blank.

The women fell
into ready stances, the bell dinged, and they circled one another. The younger
woman said something, the older woman smile, and then the attacks began. They
used the sticks as if they were swords, slashing and stabbing at one another,
blocking and dodging when needed. The younger woman swung her staff in a waist
high, back-handed arc. The older woman jumped back and blocked the cut with her
own staff. The younger woman did a three sixty and swung her staff around her
body into a back-handed upper cut at the torso of the older woman. She calmly
blocked again, then twisted her staff around the other woman’s, disarming her.