The Witch Hunter Chronicles: Hunted

“Remember to keep your guard up this round,” Lucía said.

“I always keep my guard up,” I replied, as I tightened up my headgear. “You just punch around it.”

Lucía smirked slipped in her mouthpiece into place. She reached out her hand and we touched gloves and Lucía began circling to her right, bringing me in range of her power hand.

Oh, we’re not playing by those rules again. I’ve been on my butt too many times this week.

I stepped back, a good foot or so out of her jab range - the extent of which I had learned the hard way.

Lucía cut the distance with two quick jabs and a rear kick, but I shuffled back out of her range.

“Come fight,” she said.

“Come catch me,” I replied.

She did a quick stance switch and threw a left roundhouse followed by a spinning hook. But I was on my horse again, and she missed my head by a foot.

“This is your strategy?” she asked. “Running? It’s not going to work.”

I shrugged. “It’s working fine for me so far.”

She jabbed a few times and shuffled forward. I shuffled back.

“You can’t hit what you can’t catch,” I said. And then I winked at her.

Come on, amazon. Do it.

She bounded towards me with a series of punches, and I went low, driving my head and shoulder into her stomach and grabbing the back of her knees. She went down like a tipped cow, and by the time we hit the ground, she was flat on her back, and I straddled her waist. I sat up nice and tall, smiled, then started raining down blows. She covered up but tapped out after a few clean shots landed.

“Hail to the queen, baby!” I exclaimed. I popped up and began a dance that lacked in any sort of rhythm and involved an unconscionable amount of pelvic thrusting. I stopped in mid thrust when I noticed Marc standing in the doorway grinning.

I hadn’t seen Marc since he and Mr. Castile had left abruptly a day into my stay there. He was barefoot in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, burgundy dress shirt. His hair was slicked back, except for one loose lock that hung across his forehead, and a day’s worth of stubble dotted his chin and checks. He basically looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch ad come to life.

He detached himself from the doorframe with the fluid grace of a jungle cat and started a slow, mock clap for his sister – who proceeded to throw her headgear across the room and let loose what was likely a string of profanities in Spanish.

“That was pitiful sister,” Marc mocked. “Haven’t you ever heard of an upa?”

That just led to more cussing from Lucía, which only made Marc chuckle.

He’s standing in front of me, laughing at Lucía for losing a round to me. Oh hell no.

“You think you could do better, pretty boy,” I said, motioning towards the open mat.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked some more.

I like his smile, but not that smirk. I want to wipe that off his pretty face.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight,” he said, then turned and said to Lucía, “Dad wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” Lucía asked.

“About why don’t you ask him yourself?” he replied.

She gave him the finger as she left the room.

“Way to be mature,” he called through the open door.

“I’ll go easy on you,” I said.

He turned and looked at me. “Excuse me?”

“So, the sparring session will be fair,” I answered. “I’ll go easy. Or I could fight left-handed. Or hop around on one leg.”

This is stupid Mackenzie!

He regarded me for a long moment, and I held his gaze. I could feel my cheeks burning, but still. Finally, he shrugged and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Uh, what’s this now?” I asked.

“It’s a silk shirt. I don’t want to get my sweat or your blood on it.”

Ok, I can admit that I’m a little disappointed that he had that tank top on under the shirt.

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the storage crate, and he slipped them on as he stepped onto the mat.

“Come on,” he said as he motioned me forward with his lead hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

I put my left hand in like I wanted to touch gloves and when he reached to bump my fist, I lunged forward and hit him with my right hand as hard as I could in the solar plexus. He doubled over momentarily, then coughed and mostly straitened back up.

His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “Oh, so that’s how this is going to go?” he asked.

I shrugged and gave him what I hoped was a mischievous smile as I got into my fighting stance.

Before I even had my hands up, he threw a rear round kick followed by a spinning hook kick that were so fast that I didn’t even have time to flinch. I felt the wind on my face as both kicks cleared my head by less than an inch.

Marc paused just long enough to make eye contact, then threw another kick, low this time, that swept my legs right out from under me. I landed on my back with a bone-jarring thud.

“Are we done here?” Marc asked, in a tone that sounded final.

Is he close enough? Almost.

I knew how to fall from my years of judo, but I slowly rubbed my head anyway, like I was trying to clear the cobwebs. “Ow.”

Is that concern on that pretty face? I almost feel bad.

I did a quick crab-crawl to get my legs around his, then squeezed and twisted and watched him fall. I wrapped both my legs around his left leg and hooked his heel in the crook of my elbow. As I began to apply pressure on the ankle lock, I began to smile because I knew I had him. Unfortunately, he knew the escape. He spun his body away from the direction I was cranking his ankle and began to pull his trapped leg free. I let go when he got to his hands and knees.

If he gets back to his feet, he’s going to wipe the floor with me.

I rolled up and latched myself onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and shoulders. I worked for the choke, but he was stronger, and I was getting winded. Suddenly he rolled to his back and began to slowly wedge me loose.

Now or never.

I gave up on keeping his back and went for his free arm instead – looking to end the match by hyperextending his elbow. Once again, he knew the correct counter. Before I could straighten out his arm, he spun around to top position and pressed me up in a ball against the ground. I had his arm locked up, and he had me pinned in a position where I couldn’t do anything with it. It was basically a stalemate – unless one of us took a risk.

We were face to face, and I stared into his big, intense brown eyes. We were both breathing hard, and sweating, so it was only hot in the non-ironic way.

“Start back in standing?” he asked.

“Sure, just tap out first,” I replied in between breaths.

“Not gonna happen,” he said. He was kneeling, and I felt him readjust his legs into a deadlift position. “Last chance, princessa,” he said.

“Get wrecked, pretty boy,” I replied evenly.

His frown deepened and he shook his head. “Wrong answer,” he said.

I felt him bounce and begin to spring up. He was going to pick me up and slam me back down. It’s a jerk move to pull on a training partner, and somehow I knew he’d try it. Just as my back cleared the ground, I looped my left arm around the crook of his right knee, halting my upward momentum. Marc grunted and cussed as my weight dragged us back down. The second my back hit the ground, I shot my hips forward against his elbow joint and felt his arm start to straighten. As he began to fall forward onto his face, I eased onto my stomach, careful to keep his arm secured tightly beneath me.

I heard him yelp as his elbow went past straight, and I felt his free hand tap on my leg a second later. I let him squirm. A few more centimeters and his radius would have either fractured or dislocated altogether from the humerus.

“I can’t believe you were actually going to power bomb me,” I said before finally letting go.

I pushed myself into a plank position so he could pull his arm out, and then rolled to my back just in time to see him stalking out the door of the training room.

“Well, that went well,” I said aloud to an empty room. I interlaced my fingers behind my head and stared up at the ceiling, concentrating on taking long, deep breaths. Slowly, my heart rate began to decrease… at least until I heard a noise in the hallway and thought Marc had returned. When I looked up, it was Lucía I saw standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. “You ok?” she asked.

I think I have a crush on your self-absorbed jackass of a brother, but I just beat him up and now I think he’s mad at me...

“Sure, never better,” I lied.

She gave me a raised eyebrow, but otherwise let it go.

“I’ve got good news,” Lucía said. She sat down on the training mat next to me, and I propped up on an elbow to meet her gaze.

“Morgan and Galahad died in a plane crash?” I deadpanned.

She smiled. “I have decent news.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Dad’s getting the heads of the family together to meet with you in the city tomorrow,” she replied. “They’re going to want to discuss your plans going forward.”

“Plans?” I asked. “I mean, I’m going to raid the pantry for sugar when everyone goes to bed, but that’s pretty much the extent of any plans I have.”

I can’t deflect forever. How honest do I want to be here?

“Knowing my dad, I’m sure he’s just going to try to sell you on his vision anyway,” Lucía replied. “This is more of a meet-and-greet.” She paused and added, “Have you ever heard the expression, wearing your emotions on your sleeve?”

Once or twice.

She continued, “Because your face is pretty much an open book. What’s wrong?”

I tried to let go of the tension I was holding in my shoulders. They dropped a little. “I really don’t know what’s expected of me Lucía, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to lead,” I said, eyes focused on the floor. I opened my mouth to say more and closed it again. I looked up into Lucía ’s eyes and saw nothing but compassion.

Ok, here goes…

I swallowed hard and added, “Who’d be stupid enough to think I’d make a good leader?”

I flinched when she hugged me. Then I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t cry. When she loosened up the death grip and looked into my eyes, they were mostly dry.

“You have all the qualities of someone people will follow Mackenzie,” Lucía said.

“Sure, in a bunch of previous lifetimes that I don’t remember,” I answered. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“I’m not talking about your past lives,” she answered. “I’m talking about you. Don’t give me that look Mackenzie.” Her hands began to animate the air. “You saved me from that witch on when she was about to stab me.” She held up a hand when I went to argue. “And what did you do when I told you to run to the plane? You stayed and fought. You would have gone to try and save Merlin if I hadn’t dragged you away. After that night, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

I choked back a sob.

“That was before I even knew you. Before I saw how much Jordan cares for you-”

“He just feels sorry for me,” I said. “I’m like his stupid little sister.”

“No Kenz,” she said softly. “That’s not pity. That’s unconditional love. You get that from a million separate acts of friendship.”

Stinky tofu, the two bullies I beat up, the night sort of like this when he came out...

“Ok, so I’m a good friend,” I admitted. “What’s that have to do with leadership?”

“You’re brave, you protect others, and you inspire loyalty,” Lucía said. “That’s the type of leader I want to follow.”

I had to wipe my eyes this time. “Thanks Lucía,” I said.

She nodded. “As for tomorrow, Mamá has a few outfits for you to choose from, and I’ll do your hair and makeup in the morning if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” I replied.

“Oh, and good match, by the way,” she added. “Sorry I wasn’t a better sport about losing. I tend to be a bit over-competitive.”

“That’s ok,” I replied with a smile. “I’m pretty sure the trait runs in your family.”