or offend the other. “So, do you fight a lot? Battle, I mean.” He didn’t pause, and didn’t seem uncomfortable with the question, he answered by simply stating a fact.
“No, I’ve trained just about every day since I was eight, but I’ve never really been allowed to battle anything.” She could see the disapproval in his expression at this, he was clearly eager to experience what a real fight was like. It made her wonder if he would still feel this way after he had.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” she said with a sigh. As if in response to the conversation, a shrill scream pierced the night air and hung there for a long moment, followed by a silence.
“Looks like I may be about to find out,” he said with a grave tone that might have been humorous had it not been for the situation.
The still night was torn from reality as if it were only a fragile canvas stretched across a wooden frame. An eruption of humanity seeped like blood from a wound out of the warehouse. Looks of terror across girls’ faces burned themselves into her mind, being whisked away by shaken boys with thin facades of well-being. Bodies fell across the threshold, clotting and scabbing over the cut. Despite her mind’s image, no actual blood, she noted. Her Shask began to burn as it had not since the faerie war. It spiraled up her ankle and sent adrenaline pumping through her veins. Magic was near, more than before. Before her cognition had processed risk, her body was rushing toward the commotion, her mark burning with the release of strength and adrenaline. As she reached the door, she noticed that Cal was close on her heels. She wanted to turn, tell him he should wait here, protect the sense of innocence he still had about him. He wouldn’t have had it, she realized, and there was no way to know whether outside would be safer or not. Her magic was not at its height; she hadn’t taken from any creatures she had killed in far too long. When she and Mira had killed the blackdragon, she hadn’t known Max was a Markbearer and did not want to draw from it then. Even at the faerie war, she had thought it would have been disrespectful. The music still played inside, and the shadows that flickered across the walls were now much more menacing. There were still many figures inside, though many had fled; likely new Guardians who had snuck out and the freshly marked. The gleam of swords and clash of metal created a confusing scene; but her senses soon confirmed her predetermined notion: an attack. All around them, Markbearers, shifted werewolves, and guardians tangled in battle with vampires and pixies. The inhuman malice playing across the attackers’ faces disgusted her, as it usually did. That’s what separated the good from the evil, she thought, regardless of race: remorse. As a vampire consumed by dark magic draws the life from an innocent victim, watching their soul drain from their eyes, it feels nothing. Animalistic creatures were those she battled; the utterly inhuman. Her thoughts wandered, as they often did, to Daniel. When he had heard her say how she had tried to keep him away, had he felt anything? Remorse, regret, sorrow, surprise, love, even hatred? Even hatred would be better than indifference.
These thoughts shot through her mind in a split second, her senses dragging her back to the warehouse. She put a hand on his shoulder, something she would only ever do to Mira. Normally, she expected people to be able to take care of themselves, but she felt responsible for him due to a reason unbeknownst to even her. He reacted to her touch, snapping out of visions of terror and chaos, no doubt. He drew himself up, shrugging off uncertainties; he was brave, she thought, for someone new to the fight.
Max had spent much of the day, as Nameh had, carefully avoiding eye contact with the other. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but none of the others knew anything about last night, and he didn’t want to be the one to betray the secret. They had waited for the girls in the lobby, with Gwenn already with them. Nameh and Mira had descended the stairs from the rooms on the upper level, and his breath caught in his throat as it had the previous night. He was completely taken aback at how Nameh had looked,