Tempest Reborn (Jane True) - By Nicole Peeler Page 0,77

even noticed. She certainly hadn’t cared.

‘They don’t have to go to the compound; they could be with us…’

‘While we hide out, too. That’d be a fun life. All of us on the lam together.’

‘I shouldn’t have brought this up now. You were amazing today…’

‘No, you were right to bring it up. I can’t take this treatment for granted and I can’t let my guard down, even for a second, around people like Trevor.’

Anyan handed me one of the little sandwiches, the last one spread with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and a little cucumber. A peace offering. I smiled at him and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before talking again.

‘The irony of all this is that if one of them does “get” me, they’re going to be sorely disappointed.’

Anyan cocked his head. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m a terrible champion.’ Anyan was obviously about to protest, so I raised my hand to still him. ‘Seriously, I am. Yes, I’ve got all this power, but I’m not doing all this stuff alone. We’re a team. We brought you back as a team, and you’re like the most valuable player on this team. Alone, I’d be nothing.’

Anyan moved the tray over to the nightstand, then reached forward to draw me into his arms. He pulled me across him, so we were cuddled close. I let the warmth of his body seep into mine, gone cold.

‘You’ll never be nothing, Jane. And I’ll always be on your team; nothing could ever change that. But I understand what you’re really saying.’

Of course he did. Anyan listened.

‘I couldn’t ask it of them,’ I said, and Anyan stroked a hand down my back, letting me know he’d heard me. He didn’t have to say anything, for it was the truth.

I’d changed my life when I unwittingly stepped into the champion’s shoes; there was no question about that. But someone had to battle the Red and the White, because as long as they were around, they were a threat to everybody. Fighting them wasn’t only my battle; it was really everyone’s. So Team Jane wasn’t really fighting for Jane … Team Jane was fighting for everyone, and I was just the (ax-wielding) figurehead.

But if I managed to kill the Red, then what? Trying to keep Team Jane around me would be pure selfishness. The threat would be gone, and the gods only knew what all the various factions competing for my favor would want me to fight for. And meanwhile I was useless without my cohorts. I also couldn’t imagine living my life without my friends, my family, my routine…

I may have become a champion, but I was no soldier. I hated this life, even if I enjoyed moments within it. I loved getting Anyan back, but I’d trade that feeling of triumph in a heartbeat for never having to feel his loss. I loved kicking the Red’s ass, but in the moment I was always scared shitless, working on pure adrenaline edged with terror.

If I kept this power, I would be viewed as a soldier for the rest of my life. No, not even a soldier – I’d be viewed as a weapon. At least a soldier has his or her humanity acknowledged. I’d just be something everyone was trying to use. And I couldn’t ask anyone, even Anyan, to follow me into that life.

And without Team Jane, I was pretty sure this weapon would break fairly quickly, like a cheap toy used inappropriately.

I knew I needed to talk to the creature about this issue, but right then there was another knock at the door. Only this was frantic pounding, and it also had no power signature.

The two of us glanced at each other as we stood up from the bed. I reached for the robes we’d discarded on the floor, throwing Anyan one and donning my own. Then we went out into the sitting room, Anyan moving to open the door as I took point, standing about six feet behind the barghest. I called the labrys, which came to me lazily, not bothering to light up. I took that as a good sign, but still kept up my guard as Anyan swung open the apartment’s front door.

Instead of an enemy, it was Hiral, the gwyllion. I’d never known the little creature to knock, but he was obviously not in his right mind. The normally blue-skinned creature looked green, his large eyes skipping over our faces as we moved toward him.

‘Not good, not good, not good,’ he mumbled, stumbling