The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (15 page)

“Atta girl!”
Robert shouted.

“Eh,” James
said. “You know her?”

“My wife,
Rebecca. You’ve already met her, I believe.”

“Briefly.”

James turned his
attention back to the competition. Rebecca had stepped back, allowing the
younger woman time to pick up her staff. James tried to reconcile the two
images he had of the director, on the one hand, the powerful middle-aged woman
who ran the IECS with a velvet-gloved iron fist, and on the other, the woman
who expertly wielded a weapon as if it were an extension of herself.

Robert leaned
toward James. “Rebecca the Blade, they called her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Before we were
married. They called her Rebecca the Blade because of her skill with the sword.
She stopped teaching and fighting when our son was born, but she still keeps
sharp. Practices every day.”

The bell dinged,
ending the round, and the women bowed and hustled off the mat. Two more women
assumed stances on the mat, each carrying a staff, and the round began. When
they finished, a third pair of women with no weapons stepped onto the mat. After
their bout, a fourth pair entered the mat holding two short sticks each, one
per hand, and wielded them with dizzying speed.

James watched
the competitions, fascinated by the women’s grace, strength, and obvious skill.
The matches often ended with only one point being scored, sometimes none.

His parents had
never allowed or condoned fighting, not even for competition. In spite of
James’ strong desire to learn a martial art or maybe boxing, his parents were
firm pacifists and had discouraged his interest. He and his sister hadn’t even
been allowed to watch fighting as a sport, a restriction James had broken as an
adult. He’d long since realized that violence didn’t beget violence, as his
parents feared, and that there was a large difference between healthy
competition and war.

Still, when
Amelia had wanted to enroll in a Kung Fu class, he’d automatically dismissed
her wish out of hand. It was one of the few things he and Linda had fought about.
She’d insisted that a woman should be able to defend herself, but he had, in a
rare burst of shortsightedness, never envisioned his daughter growing up enough
to leave the house. He seldom acknowledged the fact that she
would
grow
up. Deep down, he wanted her to stay his little girl forever, but now, here she
was a teenager within a few years of dating, and he was beginning to worry
about how she’d handle herself when she was, God help him, alone with a boy.
After watching Dierdre take down a young man a full head taller and at least
thirty pounds heavier, maybe he should reconsider his opposition.

 The crowd’s furtive
whispers drew James’ attention back to the exhibition. Maya walked onto the mat
carrying a short staff in her left hand, swinging it around in slow, testing
circles. James took a closer look at the other woman and frowned. “I thought
Indigo was still in Sweden.”

“She is.”
Robert’s mouth thinned. “That’s her twin, India. They’re nearly identical in
looks, but their personalities couldn’t be more different.”

The crowd hushed.
Even the younger children grew still and quiet.

The bell dinged
and India attacked. Maya calmly countered, quelling the onslaught of India’s
fury with steady, even strokes of her staff.

And it was fury,
unlike in the other matches where even the youngest participant exhibited an
amazing degree of control. India wore her anger like a shield, attacking in
short bursts of speed that would’ve left another opponent winded and likely
seriously injured. Horror crept slowly over him as Maya broke into a light
sweat, her body moving continually into a defensive position, never an
offensive one. What was she waiting for?

India attacked
again and again, her fury seeming to mount at Maya’s steadfast refusal to
attack and at her inability to break through Maya’s defense. She screamed. The
sound echoed eerily through the tense silence. The bell dinged, signaling the
end of the round, and the fight continued, Maya circling away, India pursuing
in short, brutal attacks. James glanced around. Why was nobody stepping in to
stop the fight?

Several minutes
after the bell rang, Maya shifted the stick to her right hand and went on the
offensive. India’s fury never dimmed, her strength never waned. Maya, on the
other hand, looked as if her second wind had hit. She swung her stick up under
India’s guard and bashed the other woman’s ribcage twice in short succession,
thud,
thud
, each blow hard enough to crack a rib. India skittered away and
rebounded, popping her staff around one-handed. Maya ducked under the swing and
thrust the end of her staff into India’s abdomen. India gasped and staggered
back, nearly losing her balance. Maya waited, her body loose and ready. India’s
shoulders heaved as she sucked in breath after breath, her beautiful features
pulled into a furious glare. Maya murmured something too low to carry and India
laughed, harsh and bitter. She leapt forward and lashed out, apparently
unfazed, and Maya countered, graceful and calm.

Just when James
was ready to go down there and break up the round himself, injury be damned,
Maya crouched and swept a leg around, hitting the back of India’s legs above
her ankles. India crashed back first into the mat. Maya popped up and calmly
tapped the end of her staff lightly against India’s cheek.

“Yield,” Maya
said, her clear voice ringing through the gymnasium.

“Never,” India
declared. She snaked one hand toward Maya’s bare ankle. Maya twirled her staff
down, cracking it against India’s forearm, sweeping the limb aside, then
dropped to one knee and punched India’s jaw with a balled up fist. India’s face
jerked to the side and her body went slack.

Maya rose and stood
over the limp figure of her opponent, her expression oddly dispassionate.
Director Upton walked over and spoke quietly to Maya, then directed two of the
women standing on the sidelines to remove India from the floor. They weren’t
gentle about it, either, dragging the unconscious woman out in by her ankles,
leaving her head to bounce against the floor and anything else in their path.

The crowd began murmuring,
softly at first, the noise building into a normal volume as Maya and Director
Upton left the gym floor and another pair of women approached the mat.

James pushed
himself away from the railing, torn between his need to check on her and the
urge to respect her privacy.

Robert’s hand
shot out and latched around James’ forearm. “Give her some time. Trust me, she
needs it.”

James sighed. If
anybody knew how to handle a woman like Maya, it would be Robert. After all,
the older man had a woman like that for his own. “Sure,” James said, but he
couldn’t bring himself to relax against the railing again. He watched the final
few matches while worry niggled at him, and counted down the minutes until he
could break away from the crowd and find Maya and Dierdre.

* * *

Once the matches
ended, the crowd spilled onto the gym’s floor. Maya pushed her way through the
crush of people, searching for Dierdre, greeting friends and acquaintances as
she went.

No one mentioned
her bout with India.

The match had
drained her, not physically, no, but emotionally. India had once been a shining
star of potential, destined to be one of the greats, but her spirit had been corrupted
by envy and a twisted hatred fueled by a crushing need to conquer, to grind her
enemies into the dust.

That was not the
way of the People.

India was
tolerated because the People were so few. Their numbers needed to be preserved.
And India rarely allowed her anger to burn in such a reckless display. Maya
feared the younger Daughter might’ve gone too far this time.

Guilt swamped
her, bringing anger in its wake. India had once been her student. Maya had had
the chance then to help her find redemption, and had failed. For a Daughter,
such failure was intolerable. It had taken a long time for Maya to understand
that the failure was not her own and never had been. India simply didn’t
recognize the difference between friend and foe. Still, the guilt chased Maya
and, inevitably, the anger.

James was still
standing at the railing talking to Director Upton and her husband. Maya had
caught the exchange between him and her daughter and had puzzled over it. Now,
she wondered why he hadn’t made his way down to the floor to find them, to find
her.

Had he even
noticed her outfit?

Maya bit back a
groan, embarrassed at her own thoughts. Of course, he had. She was wearing skin
tight Lycra that left little to the imagination. Any man with half a brain and
a working penis would notice. By the Goddess, what was wrong with her? Here she
was covered in sweat, not a stitch of make-up on, her hair frizzed into a rat’s
nest, and she was worried that a man might not have noticed her. As if any
woman in her right mind would want to be noticed in such a state.

Which just
proved she wasn’t in her right mind.

He peered down,
his eyes homing in on her as if he’d known where she was all along, yet he made
no move to join her.

Was he playing hard
to get? No, that wasn’t right.
He
was chasing
her
. She just
hadn’t decided yet whether or not she wanted to be caught.

She was leaning
more toward getting caught every day, but only if he pursued her.

With a
frustrated
hmph
, she turned her back on him and finally spotted Dierdre
plowing her way across the crowded floor, Johnny Linton in tow. When they
reached her, Dierdre asked, “Where’s Dr. T.? I thought he’d be down here by now.”

Maya shrugged
and affected an innocent look, as if she didn’t know exactly where he was right
at that very minute.

Dierdre narrowed
her eyes. “Did you chase him away? Geez, Mom. What is that, like, a record?”

“I did no such
thing.”

“Uh-huh. Well,
let’s go find him. I want him to meet Johnny.”

“Why don’t I
meet the two of you outside? I could use a little fresh air.”

That last was
the truth, at least. The gym had grown stifling over the evening. After the
confrontation with India, all Maya really wanted was the cool breeze on her
face and an hour of silence.

Dierdre snagged
Maya’s arm in an iron grip. “Oh, no, you don’t. I know you’re interested in Dr.
T., and he’s interested in you, and we’re gonna go up and meet him and invite
him over for pizza and a movie, and you’re gonna like it and that’s that, young
lady.”

Maya pursed her
lips, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”
Dierdre’s sternness melted away. She slung her arm around Maya’s shoulders and
squeezed. “Come on, Mom. It’ll be fun.”

And it was.

There was no
awkwardness as Maya extended the invitation to James, nor at the pizza parlor
where many of the Daughters gathered after the exhibition, nor during the movie
when she, James, Dierdre, and Johnny all slumped into on the overlarge sofa
Maya had purchased when it became evident that her daughter enjoyed having
people around her.

They sat
shoulder to shoulder during the movie with Maya and Dierdre in the middle and
“their fellers,” as Dierdre insisted on calling James and Johnny, sitting on
the outside. Dierdre had picked an old favorite, an adventurous, fantastical
romp with a pirate, a giant, and a Spaniard facing the forces of the evil
prince to gain the heart of the princess.

After the scene
where the pirate and the Spaniard fought a duel on the cliffs, James tilted his
head toward Maya and whispered, “You’re not left-handed either, are you?”

She shook her
head, her heart melting a little. He’d noticed her switch during the fight. The
move had been intended to incite India into rash behavior. Any Daughter would’ve
understand that Maya was insulting her by using her weaker hand to defend, but
India, with her hair-trigger temper and wavering control, would take it doubly
so, and it had worked. India had burned through her energy and lost focus,
allowing Maya to control the fight from start to finish.

Later, James
reached behind her to tease Dierdre by pulling at one of her braids and left
his arm across Maya’s shoulder.

And she didn’t
mind.

He didn’t ask
about India or the oddness of their match. He didn’t push her to go out with
him or try to take advantage of the situation. He just waited, his presence
firm and strong and reassuring.

It was exactly
the right tactic to take.

Maya allowed her
head to fall against his shoulder during the final scenes, when the Spaniard
was searching for his father’s murderer and the pirate overcame the dastardly
prince. She sighed as his arm tightened around her, engulfing her in the safety
and warmth she’d reveled in the night they’d danced.

She’d have to go
out with him. He was wearing her down just by being himself, an intelligent,
reserved man with deep wells of compassion and humor. If she didn’t act soon,
the attraction between them would spiral out of control, and then where would
she be?