The ground rumbled as the ghoul in front of Selena charged forward. When it was near, the ones beside and behind her ran out of the brush covering them, breaking branches, screaming in that uncanny way they had, like dogs in pain.
With only her knives for self-defense, Selena had to let them get close. Too fucking close. The short, curved blades Acier had crafted just for her weren’t throwing knives; they were meant for swift arterial strikes.
Selena didn’t yet have the skill to throw a false projection of herself to distract the monsters, so into the meat grinder she went, somersaulting, slicing, rolling, leaping, cutting.
Merc was impressed with her strategy and fearlessness. She was definitely a great addition to the Legion. The guys were teaching her about her new physical abilities and how to maximize her mental skills. The latter was harder than the former, and it was what made Merc wish fucking Santo would show up and help. He could teach mind games like no one else. He was the architect of the training camps they’d all been caged in. He’d watched to see who would be the first of the captive mutants to break free of the mirage of boundaries.
That guy was Liege in their camp. Flynn in the Omni’s camp—he’d been transferred out before Liege had made his big discovery.
Two of the ghouls were down. Selena was bleeding everywhere. And because Acier’s simulation was so real, she felt the pain of each injury, but she didn’t tap out.
When the last beast charged her, it leaped into the air. She tucked low and struck at its femoral arteries, then cut the tendons behind its knees—adrenaline would have kept the ghoul moving, though it could no longer walk or crawl. She caught its forearm and flipped it to the ground, but she wasn’t swift enough to avoid its wicked claws, which sliced at her ribs. Still she knelt on its back and pulled her knife across its throat. It flopped around for a bit, then went limp.
Selena stood and wiped the blood from her face with the back of her wrist. She straightened and grinned at them, a gesture that survived the termination of the simulation. With it ended, her mock wounds and the associated pain vanished. She looked thrilled with herself and sent the three of them a victorious glance.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I love you guys,” she said.
Bastion waved that off. “Bah! It is not them you love—it is only me.” He stepped toward her as he spoke, stopping when his body touched hers. She wrapped her hands around his neck, knives still in her tight grasp, and kissed him.
Merc looked at Acier and shook his head.
When the spontaneous embrace ended, Acier looked unamused. “Selena, don’t be complacent. We still have a long way to go, and you are only beginning to use your powerful new skills. You’ve got to get to the point where you’re using your mind more than your brawn.” He frowned as he nodded at Bastion. “Next time, leave the Hulk at home so you can focus.”
“I am not the Hulk,” Bastion roared, then gave Selena a half-grin that made her laugh.
Merc didn’t have to hear their private convo to know what he was suggesting to her. He laughed too.
“Acier, the point of the sim was to see how she fared with her custom blades, not to trounce the world of ghouls. Sel, how did they feel?”
“Great. Like extensions of my own hands. They’re perfect.”
Acier nodded, his lips pressed in a tight line. “Then I’ll make the holsters for them. You still need a long knife, so you can sever the ghoul heads after the fight. Let’s figure out a holster system that works for you, with the shotguns and the knives.”
Merc took a mental step back from the group as he watched them chat. The world of warriors was first nature to him. He’d been a fighter for more than half his life. What he’d never learned to do well was be a civilized man. His constant focus was survival, not the gentler art of smelling the roses along the way.
Liege could balance both. Maybe Merc should get some pointers—he definitely needed them if he ever hoped to find a way to make his world less terrifying for Ashlyn. She needed the roses, and lots of them. Maybe he should chat with Summer too. She knew Ash better than any of them.
And she did roses for a living.
Then again, what were the chances Ash would choose him and this twisted life he led?
32
Ash was awake before her alarm went off. She went into her kitchen to grab a coffee. Her house was filled with cheery morning light, just like every other spring day. Rain showers, if there were any, wouldn’t come until the afternoon.
She closed her eyes and pretended that this was just another day. She smiled, thinking how bored she’d been with this very routine before she first went to Valle de Lágrimas, but now she craved wrapping the feeling of it around her like a security blanket.
She went through her usual morning prep: made her bed, showered, dressed, packed lunch. She hadn’t been food shopping since her return, so she had to take a pack of tuna, dried fruit and nuts, and a granola bar. She filled a travel mug with more coffee, then locked her house and got in her car.
Yep, normal was desperately underappreciated. At the office, she parked in her usual spot, then draped her badge over her neck. She went through security, then took the stairs up to her second-floor office. She touched the area above where her bug bite was. Thanks to Guerre’s abilities, it was healing rapidly. She’d been able to cover it with her hair so she didn’t have to wear a bandage and field a ton of questions about what had happened during her second trip to Colombia.
Thinking of Guerre gave her pause. It wasn’t possible to have one foot in the realm of her cherished normal existence and the other in the supernatural world of mutated beings with extreme skills.
She had to choose, one or the other.
She closed her door, then dropped into her desk chair. She hadn’t processed any of this. She had a super skill, but she was still a regular human. Was it such a leap to accept that Merc and his friends had undergone medical procedures that enhanced their own senses and abilities?
She logged in to her company’s site to catch up on work that had happened in her absence. For a fact, normal things, normal routine, normal days were a gift. She was never going back to Valle de Lágrimas. Damn, she was glad that was all behind her.
Her next trip would be someplace heavily populated, ancient, maybe, with lots of museums and cool architecture.
In time, she could relearn how to ignore her psychometry.
But what to do about Merc?
She couldn’t keep him in her life, acknowledge that who and what he was was real, but pretend that everything else had not been.
A knock sounded on her door just before her boss stepped in. “You’re back!”
She smiled at him. “I am. Thanks for the time.”
“Your friend any better? Get things resolved?”
No. Nothing’s resolved. The whole world is fucked and no one even knows it. “I think so. It’s all good.”
“Great. We’re having a staff meeting in an hour. I know you haven’t had time to catch up, but it’s best to just jump in with both feet.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ash spent the next hour reading her emails and project reports. She printed out a few things, made some notes, felt generally ready for the meeting. It was awesome having the privilege of getting back to normal.