Storm Brew

"It's called a round house kick. You have elasticity and speed, which makes it easier for you to hit the head."

"What happens if I hit a person's head?" I flexed my right foot out of impulse.

"If it's well done you give them a serious out balance and a broken nose. Actually, if it's a hard enough kick, it can drive the nose bone back into the brain."

"Yuck," I muttered. "That's gross. Besides, I don't want to kill people if I don't have to, just knock them out."

"That's not always possible, luv." I placed my hands on my hips waiting for new instructions I knew he was going to dish out. "Put your fists up like I taught you," I rolled my shoulders before drawing my fingers into balls, and then held them up to the level of my chest. "Good," He glanced down to my legs. "Squat a little more." I did as told, lowering my center of gravity a tad further. Aric nodded. "Hold the pose and pay attention." He went into a similar stance and I gulped, he smirked. "I'm not going to exemplify on you, not really, relax."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one with the black spots on your body."

Aric ignored the comment.

"If I move my fist to strike your chin," He did the motion slowly so I could see; it came inches away to touch it. "Your eyes are going to be locked on it, thinking how to avoid it which gives me time—" There was a sharp pain in my upper ribs and I found myself falling, gasping for the air I'd forcefully exhaled. "To kick your liver between your ninth and tenth rib." I bit my cheek. Damn that one hurt like hell. "Breathe in and out just like you normally do."

"It hurts…" I choked out.

"Walk it off, it hurts a lot more if you stay basking in it. Take your mind off of it, forget the pain. If you do fight against another person, be it from The Order or not, they're not going to wait around for you to recover and fight back."

Aric was not good at pep-talks or sugar coating things, for that matter. The first day he said I needed to put some meat on my arms and legs because I wasn't strong enough. Well, now I was, and guess what? I still had a hard time taking a punch—from him, that was.

As I breathed through my teeth, I had my head bent down, hands on my knees. All Aric said just ticked me off. I think he did it on purpose, though. I rolled down to the grass when a punch was aimed at my head. I was going to kill him. I aimed punches straight at his face, he kept backing up, up and up—then I drove my shoulder against him, at the same time I took a second to set my right foot behind his leg, hooking the top part of it against the back of his ankle, finishing with another hard push just as my leg swiped from behind. Aric went down, crashing on his side. I stayed there looking down; fireworks going off in my head.

Aric really didn't waste time returning to his feet, he didn't complain at all.

"That was pretty impressive,"

"You're not such a bad teacher." I put in a little mockingly since his ego was big in that department.

Aric's devious little grin showed up while I dusted my shorts.

"Told you," I stood up straight. "Now, run around the lake… twice." He said after pretending to think it over, when I already knew he'd been planning it all along.

My stomach complained, twisting in on itself. My hands flew to it.

"But I'm starving," I gave a certain dramatic wince just to show how bad it was.

"There's your motivation, now run." Aric leaned on a tree with dried bark. My eyes were glued on him as he crossed his arms. "If you want to eat soon, I suggest you do what I'm telling you."

Of course Aric was a tyrant when it came to training, I already knew this, so, without bothering to argue further I started jogging, building up speed as I went. I knew this trail like the back of my hand already. I'd been running it for about two weeks, almost three. We were in Conecuh National Forest, located in southern Alabama. Every day we arrived here at seven in the morning, causing me to get up at six… Aric too, but he didn't seem affected by it in the least, and to be frank, it didn't bother me so much nowadays. It just took some getting used to. We'd left Miami and settled here, where the nearest city was home to the World Championship Domino Tournament. Aric said an NBA player was from Andalusia, I totally forgot who it was majorly because I didn't care. What I did care about was my training and we'd began after we arrived.

Aric rented out a cabin here using his credit card, I didn't know how he'd done it without being traced, because from what I'd gathered, he didn't like to be found by The Order and it wasn't just because I was with him.

I jumped over the dead trunk like I did any other day, except for the first one. I'd been so caught up in the landscapes beauty I'd fallen flat on my face and scraped my knee badly. At first, Aric said I had zero attention span which might have been true, since I wasn't motivated. Why was that? The guy kicked my ass mercilessly. He did not go gentle on me. The second day I could barely move, he made me move against my will. I lashed out with words and curses, but he was good at making mental-games. I hated him for that, but he taught me self-defense. As we moved up the days, I began getting into it, by the end of the first week I'd built up some muscle mass, it wasn't much but it had been a start.

When I'd run about three miles, I slowed carefully. Extending my arms up, then I flexed my torso forward, like it was a perfect board. There were a few knots getting loose in my muscles, and it felt so good—then I felt a bruise from a previous training session and winced slightly.

I looked at the midway sun sparkling off the clear lake surface. It wouldn't be long before this got a few people. This was a good spot for picnics. Aric always picked out the deepest spot in the forest, knowing no one went there because of the… snakes. A chill coursed me, and I shook my head. I hadn't seen one yet, I couldn't truly fear them.

When we'd left Miami, all I had with me were the old clothes I had before buying the new ones, my messenger's bag containing the map, clue sheet, sketchpad, notebook, pencils and stuff like that. I had to buy more clothes, namely training ones, like shorts, tank-tops tennis—I'd used the reaming money I took from Anna. Now I had no money, so I was mooching on Aric's.

Continuing on my way, fast—I still had one more lap after this one—I thought about Anna and what she might be thinking. I hadn't contacted her. Aric mentioned it once, telling me that I should. I didn't, though. If I'd gone a long time without seeing Anna, I'd gone even longer without Nathaniel. I had no idea where he was. So, even if I was stupid enough to let him know where I was—which I wasn't—I couldn't. Thinking about it, I didn't even know his cell number.

"Run, Forrest, run." I looked over my shoulder, giving Aric a bitter smile.

I was going to beat him after my one hour break. Whipping my head to the front, I gave it all I had—I really was feeling starved.

***

My arm was twisted behind my back, I glanced down seeing Aric's foot going to kick behind my knee to make me stumble—I moved my leg from out of the way, making him loose some concentration then I threw my weight backward sending us to the ground, him on bottom, me on top. As he recovered, I elbowed him in the kidneys rolling from his hold—before he knew it, I was twisting his arm over his head.

Aric growled a little as I straddled his waist. I applied more pressure, like he'd taught me.

"Give up?" I asked a little too excited.

He didn't answer until I twisted his wrist. Aric arched his head, a winced smile crossed him.

"Alright—" I shook my head enforcing a further gap, his shoulder socket cracked under all the force—it didn't break, though.

"Never trust your enemy," I quoted Aric's words from one month-and-a-half ago. "First lesson you taught me." I murmured as my knee sunk into his stomach.

When another minute took its toll, I relinquished my hold, rolling off him. I pulled my jeans, watching Aric taking a short breath before doing a kick up—no hands. He shook a few dead leafs from the back of his shaggy black hair. How much it had grown back since we'd been together was the only indicator of how long it had actually been, to me it was day after day. We'd been here for one month, and two weeks. The city still sucked, though, I'd found a nice pizza place. Anyway, Aric had been teaching me for what felt like years. With each day my body had grown adjusted to hits, bruises came and went quickly. Aric said it was my own immune system catching up with my new life style, not that I had anything bad to say about it.

I picked up my leather jacket from a nearby rock It was time to go home. It was almost eight, I went to bed at ten. It didn't leave me with much time to do anything, drawing had been crossed off for longer than ever in my whole life, and fantasizing about people who walked out on me wasn't worth the time.

I waited for Aric by the side of the road, by the Porsche.

As he emerged from among tall, eucalyptus I surveyed the lake. Calm, serene, wide and magnificent. Over the last weeks, I'd never gone for a swim but when I was running around it I saw plenty kids my age doing it. I was jealous, then. They had the lives I'd had before, not a care in the world. What were good grades compared to life-threatening-Cult-stalkers? Good grades were a walk in the park, that's what they were.

"You look calm," Aric commented once we were driving towards the cabin. "Scary calm."

I frowned lightly giving him a dubious glance.

"I'm scaring you?"

He tilted his head pensive, not looking at all like someone who was afraid.

"No, but you'd be scary to any other person right now." Ah well...

"I'm not calm... I'm keeping silent while I reflect over the strange, bleak life I've taken on. Because when I look back on the person I used to be." I crossed my arms sinking down. "My parents might have given me twenty years of free assassin-knowledge but I think they ruined the rest of my life—I might not even live much longer."

"Have a little faith, luv, you did pretty good on that guy two days ago."

Oh yeah. I totally wiped the floor with him. Two days ago, I'd gone up against an Order member, all I wanted to was run away when I saw the scar, after being used to protection for so long I actually forgot that I could fight now. It didn't last long. As soon as the bald guy made a move to grab my shoulders I'd slammed my fist into his face, then with all my strength I'd kicked his femur with the ball of my foot—I did it twice, which broke it. Once Aric got there he finished up.

So, all in all, I was very pleased with my skills.

"I know, it doesn't mean I like this..."

"You were the one who asked for it."

Yeah, I knew that as well. But sometimes, it was hard not to wonder. It wasn't only about my life that I wondered, it was about what Nate said. That this life, was the one meant for me and he'd been the one to get it, while I got his. It didn't' mean I understood why Nate chose to stay in the Hive and be an assassin, when he was a kid he had no choice—he had nowhere to go. He was an adult now, had been for a while, furthermore, Nathaniel was a lawyer. He could get a job, if it was money he was worried over I'm sure he could manage a pretty good place since he finished College so early. If Nate wanted a normal life, he had the chance now. Why didn't he take it? This only made me angrier at him.

Once Aric parked the car I didn't waste time getting out. My head was throbbing, my stomach felt sick for no good reason. I flung our cabin door open going past the TV and weight lifting bench, to get to my bedroom, closing myself inside. I knew Aric wouldn't come around asking questions, he never did. Just left me alone, like I wanted.

I sat on the edge of bed looking over myself like I always did after practice, it was like I didn't want to miss any change in my exterior self, not that it happened from night to day, I knew that. But I still looked myself in the eyes. The hair had gone back to being straight the minute I washed it, the cut bangs to the side were the only evidence that remained from the hair cut. My olive skin was a little darker since I'd been exposed to so much sun light. Taking a moment to rest from all of the fatigue, I plummeted on my back. An itchy sensation took over my neck, I scratched; the pad of my finger ran across my collarbone. There was another thing that had changed in my body; I had a white scar now. It wasn't very wide, but it was noticeable.

I could hear a clacking fire as I left my bedroom; Aric was "cooking" by the kitchenette behind the living room's couch.

"I really don't get you," I mumbled letting my body topple into the green couch.

"That seems to be the most recurrent thing you say to me." I sat up, crossing my arms atop of the couch, placing my head on them.

"You know all this stuff about fighting and what not—but you don't know how to fry an egg." His dark eyebrow perked as he finished placing two hot dog sausages in the microwave. "Hot dog again, huh? Well, I rest my case." I laughed shortly.

"Laugh it up, luv, but I don't see you cooking anything, either." He leaned on the counter taking a sip of some fresh opened beer.

"I'm more of a desert kind-of-cook."

"You mean to say baker, luv." There was a smartass tone about him, like when I got something wrong in training, I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, a baker. But I can cook—my best dish is carbonara." I nodded my head thinking about it. "Maybe I'll teach you if you get lucky. Unless you have a history with burning down the house... then I won't let you go near a stove."

There was turn of his sensual lips as his emerald irises eyed me.

"I'm a quick learner,"

"What about me?" I asked getting closer to the counter.

He made a funny sound in the back of his throat.

"Not bad," Then Aric took on a more serious attitude. "I guess you pay attention to detail, when your mind's into it, and that helps you a lot. Determination is a good thing too, though." My spirits were high on praise.

The microwave dinged. I watched him cut open a bread putting the sausages inside, then covering them with ketchup and mustard. That really made me miss New York...

"The fire's dying," Aric came around sitting beside me, I slid a glance at the final flames, licking the ash wood away. "I'll go and get more firewood—"

"No," I placed a hand to his chest. "I'll go, you're eating. It's just outside, I've got my fists of fury..." I held them up like a boxer—he cracked a dry grin. "I'll be fine."

Aric's eyes had something when I walked outside, stepping down the wooden steps. I couldn't see what the problem was Sure an Order member could show up, but even if I couldn't handle business I knew Aric would show out of the shadows to save the day.

It was irritating that during sun hours it was sweating hot outside, and at night it was cold, like February.

I'd never been to the small cottage where the wood was kept. We didn't spend much time here, so it didn't really interest me. It was just wood. I arrived at the faded door and saw light coming from inside. The normal guess would be: Aric left the lights on, he forgot to turn them off. But Aric was careful; he didn't commit mistakes, not even little ones. Not that I was aware of.

I placed my palm to the thin door, breathing in then out. I clenched my jaw, bracing my muscles letting them know I'd be needing to move quick.

I pushed the door lighting fast—and my eyes were divided. I didn't know what shocked me more.