Special Forces 01 (23 page)

“No way, that would not be a good idea.” Rys had a thoughtful frown on his face. “I could not be sure if what I taught him wouldn’t be used to bully someone else.”

“From what I have seen, I would agree with that judgment call,” Anne muttered under her breath. As soon as Rys set her backpack on the table, she opened it up and dug out her textbook. Ever since they had become friends, Anne hadn’t gotten to carry that backpack once. She kept trying to convince Rys that she was capable of carrying it just fine, but she hadn’t made any headway on that front yet. (That was probably because she really wasn’t trying too hard to win that concession.) “And Ashley? Is she actually being bullied?”

“No, thank the Guardians. But apparently, she feels uncomfortable and easily intimidated because of her relatively small stature. Knowing that she has the ability to defend against someone twice her size has given a real boost to her self-confidence.” A soft chuckle eased from his chest. “It’s actually a good thing in more ways than one. Ashley and Dylan can practice their exercises together, without additional help from me.”

Anne went stiff with alarm. “Is that safe?”

“Oh, they’re going slow and easy, and being siblings they can both goad and encourage each other at the same time,” Rys assured her, laughing about something he just remembered. “I need to get a punching bag out there for them…” he trailed off, clearly thinking ahead of things they would be using for their training.

Becoming a big brother like this was clearly good for Rys. He had become much more content, with people needing him. Anne wondered if that was the initial reason why he was drawn to her—because she had needed someone’s help.

“All right, people, settle down. Today’s lab is centered on the fascinating anatomy of the shark! I’ll pass out the worksheet to be filed out as you go along. Begin your voyage of discovery as soon as you receive your material.” Mr. Henderson laughed heartily at his students’ groans of dismay and dread.

Rys went to fetch the tray with the embryonic shark for them to dissect. His nose wrinkled up at the reeking odor of formaldehyde that seemed to roll off of it in nearly visible waves. “Someone explain to me why we need to familiarize ourselves with the internal organs of a shark in order to be productive, contributing members of society.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t think of a one,” Anne grumbled sourly. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

In the division of labor, Rys did the dissecting and Anne acted as scribe, jotting down all of their observations and answers. Rys’s handwriting was truly abysmal; it was the one thing that he didn’t seem to be able to do well as far as Anne could determine. It was probably because he had so little practice, preferring to type anything he wanted to say.

Feeling a little guilty for allowing him to do all the messy work, she offered to clean up the dissection tray while he wiped down the table. She carried it over to the large sink at the back of the classroom, the tray held at arm’s length. Guardians, did that
stink
. Ugh!

Anne had the worst of it discarded, and was doing a final rinse with the tray, when Zach sauntered over behind her. She knew it was Zach without looking because he propped both arms around her, blocking her in, and said, “Hey sexy. How about we go out this Friday?”

“No, thank you,” Anne managed in a level tone, disinterested tone. “And will you please move out of the way? I’m done here.”

“Aw, come on, Anastasia. I can
promise
you a good time.” He gave a suggestive thrust of hips against her legs.

Anne saw red, and her temper flared instantly into the danger zone. “Zach, I said
back off, now!”
It was a tossup between using the tray as a cudgel against his head — which would be would be very physically satisfying —or calling for Rys. Rys would be far more emotionally satisfying, and she could just stand back and watch.

“Hall!”

Zach jumped and spun so fast he had to catch himself on the sink before he slipped and fell. Anne just smiled. She hadn’t heard Rys’s “Captain’s voice” in a while. It was predictably effective, even against civilians. She turned, ready to enjoy the show, and regretted she had no popcorn.

Rys had Zach pinned with his eyes, a slow tick in his jaw. “Hall, just what do you think you are doing?”

Zach’s initial terror was fading, replaced with a belligerent attitude at being caught off guard. “I’m asking her out. Stop butting in, Savar.”

“Hall, you do
not
have the
right
to ask her out. You will not do it again, are we clear?” No threat, no implication of consequences, just a simple statement of fact. Rys had flawless military bearing. Orders were orders; they were just meant to be followed.

“Says who?” Zach obviously didn’t have much going for him in the way of survival instincts. “You can’t —” he choked abruptly and pressed his back into the sink’s edge. He was doing an impressive impersonation of a field mouse caught out in the open, in a snake’s direct line of sight.

Anne turned her head slightly, and saw what had apparently turned Zack to stone—and then it was her turn to gulp in surprise. In Rys’s right eye, there was a clear red circle glowing with a cross inside it. It was reminiscent of the crosshairs on a targeting system.

Zach was Rys’s target.

“Mr. Hall, Mr. Savar, Miss Dorian,” Mr. Henderson called. “Up front, please. The rest of you, outside, you’re done cleaning up.”

Anne steered clear of Zach, reaching for Rys’s hand as soon as she was close enough, and tugging him down to her level. “Your eye,” she whispered urgently.

He broke eye contact with Zack blinking as he looked down at her. The red circle was gone. “What?”

“It looked like you had a target lock on Zach,” she breathed.

Rys stared back at her, cleared stunned by her words. “You could actually see that?”

His question unnerved Anne.
You mean you were actually considering taking Zach out?!

“Stop dawdling, you two,” Mr. Henderson ordered, becoming impatient at the delay.

Anne dropped it, for now, and navigated her way to Mr. Henderson’s desk. The lanky, gray-haired teacher was leaning against his desk in an easy manner, but his dark eyes were solemn and thoughtful.

Before anyone could say something, Zach blurted out, “I didn’t do anything!”

Mr. Henderson’s eyes cut to him, silencing him with a glance. “Mr. Hall, I heard you, and saw your disrespectful display to Miss Dorian. Don’t think you can wiggle out of this. Consider your entertaining detention with me this Saturday to be doubled.”

Zach gave an inarticulate sound of protest.

Henderson ignored him, eyes going to Rys instead. “Tell me, Mr. Savar…what is your rank?”

Anne could feel Rys go still beside her. “Sir?”

“What rank?” Henderson patiently asked again. “I recognized the tone of that voice. I was in the army for ten years before cross training and becoming a teacher. That was a ‘Captain’s voice’ if I’ve heard one, and I heard a lot of them while I was enlisted. You strike me as a military man, Savar.”

There was a hint of respect in Rys’s smile. “I entered the military academy on Fourth Colony when I was eight, sir. I graduated with honors, and currently hold the rank of Captain.”

Henderson nodded, not surprised by the validation. “I thought as much. Zach, allow me to put it into more basic terms for you. This man has the skill and know-how to kill you and hide your body so thoroughly we’d never find it. I would strongly suggest not pissing him off by harassing his girlfriend. He’s been trained to shoot first and send flowers later.”

Zach, naturally pale anyway, went three shades lighter, as the blood drained from his face. “You can’t let him shoot me!”

There was not an ounce of humor in Rys’s smile. A wolf closing in for the kill would have a similar expression. “Hall, I never said I was going to shoot you. Bullets leave traces behind.”

Anne had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She was almost sure that Rys wouldn’t kill Zach. It was obvious the repentant lady’s man was scared out of his wits, and would not approach her again, for any reason. Rys could certainly make the truth dance a jig.

“You three better get to your next class,” Henderson suggested with a mild grin. Anne was sure he had enjoyed the show as well. Free, spontaneous entertainment was sometimes the best of all.

As they left the classroom, Anne leaned in closer to Rys and murmured, “You weren’t
actually
going to kill him, were you?”

“That depends,” he muttered back, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“On what?”

“On whether or not he had the common sense to back off and leave you alone.”

Anne felt a shiver go straight through her, to the core of her bones, when she realized he wasn’t kidding.

***

Rys was happy to find that the Blochs already owned a punching bag; it was just stored somewhere in a remote corner of the attic. He located it, dug it out from under a pile of boxes, and hauled it outside to the backyard. There were several mature trees in the backyard, and one had the perfect low branch for what he had in mind. Rigging a chain through the top of the bag, he strung the bag up at the right height for Dylan and Ashley to use effectively.

The back door banged open just as he finished and Dylan darted into view. “Arystair! Guess what, guess what!”

The black eye from the day before was a little more pronounced, as if it had a recent boost. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the kid had been in another fight…and won it, judging by that self-satisfied smile. “I believe you have been in another engagement. How do the other guys look?”

“A lot worse,” Dylan informed him excitedly, chest puffing out in pride.

“Good!” Rys grinned back at him. “Do you think they’ll try picking on you again?”

Dylan’s smile morphed slowly into a thoughtful frown. “I…I’m not sure. What would you do?”

Rys blinked at this question.
Is this what’s it like to be an older brother? Am I expected to be a fount of wisdom to my younger siblings?
Terrifying thought. And yet, it was strangely satisfying at the same time. “What would I do, eh? I’d plan for the worst, and hope for the best. I’d keep training, just in case I need to be stronger next time.”

Dylan nodded seriously, as if this was exactly the answer he expected. “Can we have another lesson right now?”

“If you wish.” He certainly couldn’t fault the kid’s enthusiasm.

“Would it be alright if I call you Rys like Anne does? Why does she do that, anyway?”

Was it normal for children to jump from one sentence to another without any transition? “On Fourth, calling someone by a nickname was a sign of closeness. Only family or very close friends are permitted to do it. Anne calls me Rys because I’m her best friend. Since you’re my adopted brother, you can call me Rys if you wish to.”

Rys could almost watch the boy’s head swell. “Then I’m calling you Rys, too.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured. It felt very right to have Dylan use his nickname. Shaking off the mood, he refocused on the lesson. “Now, tell me how your fight went, step by step. We’re going to see what you did right, and more importantly, what you did wrong. And then we’ll work on improving your strategy and technique.”

The lesson lasted about two hours, partly because Ashley joined them during the session. She was just as excited as Dylan, and they kept setting each other off. Rys made them run a few laps around the yard just to calm them down, and help them focus.

After two hours of intense physical and mental concentration, Rys felt certain they had absorbed everything they could, and called a halt for the day. They all had homework that would require their attention before they went to bed. He shooed them into the house, promising another lesson tomorrow. They rambled back inside, merrily ragging on each other as they went. He watched them go with a bemused smile.
So this is what it’s like to have siblings. Odd, but…I definitely like it.

Shaking his head, he headed for the house as well. He and Anne never had made it to a movie, and the original one he’d wanted to see was no longer showing. Perhaps something else equally intriguing was playing this weekend. It would be nice to enjoy an outing with her.

“Hey, Arystair.”

Rys had been halfway up the staircase, heading for his room, but the hail stopped him. That was Brandon’s voice. Only he sounded… friendly. Small red alarms started going off in the back of Rys’s mind. Slowly, he turned. “Yes?”

Brandon stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling up at him in a friendly manner. That expression looked very out of place on Brandon’s face, and just made Rys more nervous. “Look, I know I’ve been a jerk the past couple of weeks. I want to make it up to you. Me and the guys are going out tonight. Do you want to come along?”

Rys’s instincts were screaming
Trap!
From what he had seen of Brandon, he was inclined to agree with them. But if there was any chance that Rys could be on better terms with Brandon, he wanted to go for it. “Sure. When?”

“Oh, about eight o’clock.” There was an edge to Brandon’s smile that Rys couldn’t quite slap a label on. “I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

Rys watched him walk away, his mind still screaming warnings at him.
I really hope that I’m wrong. I really hope that I’m just being paranoid.

I really hope this isn’t what it looks like.

***

And I had hoped beyond hope that I was wrong.
This definitely had ambush written all over it. Brandon had driven out on the old Wattendorf Highway, fifteen miles out of town. When the highway ended, he turned onto a gravel road and stopped the car.

Rys slowly stepped out of the vehicle. Parked ahead of them was another vehicle, and three of Brandon’s friends. There was the lanky Greg, baseball bat in hand and grinning like a maniacal plastic theater mask. Next to him was Dustin, holding a crowbar like someone would a half-staff. Then Seth, just cracking his knuckles and chuckling, like the dim-wit he was. That this super-sized teenager had managed to advance so far in high school was a tribute to the charitable hearts of his teachers, and not his academic prowess.