Revolutionary Read online

  Jade—Hell, the whole team—seemed to be doing the same. Almost sadly, the loss of him brought us closer. We all wanted to do right by Dane, to do a better job of playing nice and not immediately homing in on other’s shortcomings. It was a work-in-progress situation, but one I needed to remember as I began my trudge downstairs to begin my day with the Primal trainees. Awesome. At least Jade would be in on the torture.

  “Enough!” I bellowed, throwing my arm out to emphasize my need to quit. This really was torture. For hours, the three Primal enforcers who were in the running for our new division were failing miserably at their mental walls. “Jason, I still hear your recitation of expectations. Brielle. Yes, I’m still well aware how much you don’t like me, and I still don’t give a crap. You will listen, because I could be the thing that keeps you from getting hurt or worse.” I looked her dead in her too-large dark eyes, letting her know she didn’t intimidate me.

  I was over letting people dictate what I did and didn’t do. I wasn’t the little girl who wanted her telepathy to disappear. I was the woman who owned my ability even if I didn’t always like it. It was mine, and it made me me. It allowed me to hear Holden, and I’d never trade that for anything, newbies be damned. “Get back to your patrols. Tomorrow, you get to deal with empathy… Good luck.” I smirked.

  At least Jade had to deal with them, too. They hated us both equally, I was sure. But, like the rest of us, their true loathing was reserved for Steve. Funny enough, it wasn’t as much for his piss-poor attitude as it was that Primals hated having their physical superiority taken from them. Hated it. And, like Devlin before them, they wanted to hold a grudge.

  The disgruntled newbies ambled away, grumbling, back toward what was soon to be their house instead of mine. I assumed in search of sustenance within its white confines. I needed to relax, and I knew just the place for such a result: the barn. I gave myself permission to turn on the music and unleashed the bright blue earbuds wrapped around my neck. I needed to let my mind wander for a bit. I’d probably even keep one in as I groomed my horse of the day. Double my pleasure, double my fun. How appropriate that the song crooning in my ears was talking about living with lonely ghosts and having to shake off the dead. So freaking true.

  The new beat was fun and had me bopping my head and skipping my way toward Old Faithful. “Good time!” I shouted, the bass pulsing in time to my air jabs. It was such a quick and easy way to erase the woes of my day. Music is life. The heavy door slammed behind me as I shut myself into the old truck and cranked her to life. I pulled out one of the earbuds—safety first—then fired off a message to both Commander James and Holden about heading to the barn.

  Holden had been on plain-clothes patrol for the morning, but I could all but guarantee that he’d be at the barn before I was or a few minutes after if he got held up. Because Holden wasn’t able to communicate as quickly and efficiently as the rest of the team, he was often used in instances when we didn’t want people to know we were there or, at least, have attention drawn to that fact. His chameleon ability was quite handy in that capacity, as well. Being able to change his appearance in a moment made surveillance so much easier. It was almost like having a team trailing a target. It made it very hard for a person to know they were being followed when there wasn’t a recognizable tail. Genius.

  I really loved the band who seemed to be heavy on today’s playlist. Their lyrics always resonated with me. Always. Their words had the ability to pull me out of the deepest funk when even Holden may not be able to. That was quite a feat, considering Holden made just about everything better. I continued my off-key rendition of the song playing as I turned into the long gravel drive of the barn, smiling as I passed the turnout areas which currently held munching and frolicking equines.

  Nipping and kicking, neighing and squealing; natural sounds that were also nearly always able to make me smile. Thank God for music, horses, and Holden—not necessarily in that order. They each held the ability to pull me from my melancholy with a different method or effect. Today, both Jasper and Raven were out in neighboring turnouts and were giving each other grief across the bisecting fence.

  It came as no surprise to see Jasper’s copper face was the instigator in most nips, jutting his neck out to gnash his teeth at Raven’s glossy obsidian hide. The opposing colors were like a fire dancing among the bed of dark coals from which it had sprung to life, now twisting and writhing among each other in a beautiful dance that I couldn’t tear my gaze from. Their dance seemed to be choreographed to the piano backdrop ringing in my head, the whole of the scene drawing me in, making it impossible to turn away.

  I love when you look like that. Makes me remember when we met.

  With the smile still softening my face, I turned toward Holden as he pulled to a stop on my left and reached out an arm to wrap me up and pull me into his side. It was a familiar move, and I went willingly, a pliable mass, ready to mold to his solid body. “It was definitely a day that changed everything,” I joked, lifting up to receive the kiss he was never to deprive me of. It was quick, a “hello,” but it still heated me. Just being around Holden did that to me. The man was like my own personal sauna; it was impossible not to sweat and steam around him.

  How were the recruits?

  “Ugh. I’m not cut out for teaching. I’m not enough of a people person.” We made our way to the adjoining gates of the paddocks of our respective mounts. Reaching out with my right arm to grab the cherry-red halter and rope to wrangle Jasper, I was once again reminded of my infirmity. Sometimes, I could forget about the stark white casing on my dominant arm, but when I reached toward the gate, it just stood out at me, screaming. Of course, the moment it was back in my focus, that infernal itch started up, full tilt. Holy crap! “How does that happen?”

  Hmm? How does what happen?

  “What?” It was essential to find something to fish in there. Relief needed to come immediately.

  You asked, “How does that happen?” Holden was looking a bit confused, like I’d sprouted a second head or something.

  I held up the offending appendage. “It’s itching. Again. Drives me nuts! I need to get this thing off, like yesterday,” I mourned, scratching ineffectually at the end of the cast.

  Get your nag. It’ll help take your mind off of it… unless you’re ready to tell the team…

  I threw a death glare at him. He knew good and well that freaked me out. Well, to be a little more precise, the idea of telling Boat Shoes gave me hives. My phantom itch kicked up in intensity at the thought. After opening the gate, I stepped up to where Jasper waited patiently for his treat more than my attention. The peppermint was slurped from my palm as I reassured him that he was far from a nag. Luckily, he was polite about it, only using his lips and not those big ol’ buck teeth to take the small candy from my palm.

  With the rope halter secured around Jasper’s pretty face, I walked to where Holden and Raven waited on the dirt drive. It was perfect, me and all my boys enjoying a late summer stroll. There weren’t enough people around to be bothered by parading minds. My own mind was so much more at ease in calm and low-population situations. I enjoyed my time in and around the stables, when I didn’t have to worry about what kind of trouble others were going to get into and what responsibility I had to everyone.

  So, I’ve been thinking.

  “That’s never good,” I laughed with a smirk as we brought the horses to the ties in the barn for grooming.

  Ha ha. So, I’ve been thinking that I want to do something special for you.

  “Oh yeah? Like what? What are you up to, mister?”

  It’s a surprise. I’m not going to tell. As long as nothing gets screwed up, we’ll do it tomorrow night. Late. So, make sure you’re rested. A devious smirk accompanied the last of his thought and prompted my response.

  “Hey, now. My getting rest often is quite closely tied with you and your… activity level.”

  A rich, rumbling laugh rolling through my head was my reward before he ans
wered. Touché, my sweet. Touché.

  I felt good and relaxed, the banter between us putting me firmly in my happy place as I set to work getting Jasper back to his copper-penny glory. The turnouts were a bit muddy, and Jasper loved his dirt, so he looked more like a bar of chocolate with bits of caramel peeking through than the shiny copper I wanted to restore him to. It was a lot of work and took four different types of brushes, but I succeeded for the moment. The battle would ensue again the moment Jasper was let outside in the morning, but I would leave here tonight much lighter than when I’d arrived.

  Want to ride him today?

  Well, that got my attention. My movements stalled as I stared at Holden, trying to make my mouth speak. “Are you serious?” I was half-convinced he was joking. He never gave Jasper as a riding option. My blue-eyed stunner of a man nodded, his eyes not leaving mine as he waited for my answer. There was no need. He knew my thoughts, at least about this. A devious smile much like the one that had graced Holden’s face not long ago stretched across my own. “Hell yeah, I do.”

  CHAPTER 5

  And… I was back in the round pen. I’d known that there would be strings to Holden’s offer to let me ride Jasper. Still, I couldn’t refuse, and to be honest, I’d learned the value of this particular teaching tool in the last several months. It was completely contained; the six-foot-tall solid white panels did a great job of making the round pen its own little world, for both horse and rider. The things outside the walled circular enclosure were easy to ignore without the distraction sight provided.

  As I bounced around on Jasper’s back while he did his best impersonation of a chicken with his head cut off, I thanked God that Holden had known to put us in here. Jasper was indeed an entirely different beast than Raven. There was absolutely no patience or forgiveness in the steed. If I gave, he took, and it was killing my shoulders.

  Don’t hold him back with your hands. It’ll only work him up more. Relax. The more tense you are, the faster he’s going to go. Holden watched me for a moment, then added wryly, He’s dropped his back. That’s why his head is in your face and his stride is so jarring.

  “That’s great,” I grumbled as I pulled the reins back toward my hips, which only succeeded in making Jasper open his mouth against the bit. “He looks like a freaking carousel horse. How am I supposed to fix this, then? I can feel it’s not right, but what my mind and body do to fix it only makes it worse.”

  For now, slide your hands up the reins a bit; make them shorter.

  “Shorten the reins? That’s your answer? He’s just bringing his head up when I pull back.”

  First off, you’re not pulling in the right direction. I gnashed my teeth in response. Second, the pressure needs to be consistent. There needs to be a circle of communication. Your hands are a very important component of that. And third, it’s more of pulling your entire weight back than it is pulling on just the reins. You know that.

  “Raven doesn’t need this.”

  You are very right, Raven does not. But then, he is not an impatient horse. Jasper is. You need to earn his trust before he will listen to you. Right now, you are not sending messages of comfort and confidence.

  “Well, excuse me! How exactly would you like me to do that?” This sucked. I felt like I had no control, like I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. After doing so well for months, it was a blow to my ego. It was making me tense, and that was perpetuating the problem, but I didn’t know how to simply dial it down.

  Breathe. Sit back. Relax your hips. Heels down. Get him to walk for a minute.

  Holden watched quietly while I willed my mind and body to relax and remember all the things I knew about riding. After a minute of trying, I finally got Jasper to walk, though even that was a race.

  Good. Now, stop him completely. Relax, let out your breath. Squeeze your hands closed and sit back toward his rear.

  I did as I was told and was rewarded with the cessation of forward motion, so I dropped the reins and patted the sweaty pony’s neck. “Thought you liked me. I thought we were friends, Jas. Not cool, dude. Not cool.” I smacked his neck loudly after grousing at him. I wasn’t mad, but I was disappointed. Riding him hadn’t gone anything like I’d thought or hoped. I was wholly ineffectual thus far. I bowed my head into his warm neck as I reflected.

  Hey, now. It’s fine. Holden was at my right hip. He pulled my foot from the stirrup and straightened my leg out, then moved my foot in circles at the ankle in an attempt to loosen it. If you find yourself all out of sorts, try to consciously relax your body, piece by piece. He moved his hands to my hips. Make sure your hips stay open and relaxed. They need to keep you moving with, and connected to, your horse. He stepped back and rolled his shoulders. Do this every once in a while if your shoulders start hurting. Chances are that is where your tension is gathered. He smiled softly. You are not incompetent. You are just forgetting what you know. It happens in stressful situations. I think we have experienced this a bit before, yeah?

  That was true. There had been times during enforcer training or, geez, the crazy cases we’d had when I just blanked on the most basic things. The key was to not get so worked up that I forgot what I knew. Funny how it seemed things always related back to the job in some way. Who would have thought that riding horses would teach me so much not-horse-related but useful information?

  I want you to try something. Get him walking again, out by the wall, and feel your hips move. Left, right. Left, right. If you can’t, it means you’re tight. Go.

  I gave Jas a little squeeze to get him going. I didn’t feel my hips moving.

  Relax, breathe, and bend your elbows to follow his mouth. You always want to feel a little tension with his mouth. That’s your circle of communication. If you feel tension and then don’t? Do, don’t, do, don’t. It’s like only getting part of a conversation, and he will decide not to listen, because he does not know what you want from him—go or stop. There you go. Good! Now, close your outside hand tighter around the rein. Just the right. Then release.

  We were currently circling to the left, which meant that my “outside hand”, the hand closest to the wall, was my right. I closed said hand into a fist, keeping my wrist perpendicular to the ground and my arms in line, from wrist to elbow. It was simultaneously easy and hard because of the cast my arm was enclosed in. Easy, because I couldn’t break that line. Hard, because after a while of holding it up, it got heavy.

  Sam's gym, also known as the front half of our command post, was bustling Monday morning when Jade and I strolled through from the back. It was a more central location, better for quick responses to calls, so unless we were doing tactical drills or shooting, we usually did our training and patrols from this location. The Primal recruits were in a sparring session with Devlin at the helm. He was trying to teach the brutes how to anticipate what an assailant could do. They were all sheer force, no finesse, and they never considered Sage abilities to be something they needed to be wary of.

  Big mistake. Sage telekinesis could be a powerful thing; just ask Steve. He'd tell you that he could stop a freight train in its tracks. I totally loathed the egotistical twit, but though I'd never admit it to his face, Boat Shoes had skills. We'd also had a run-in with a vengeful illusionist who could project a visual of whatever he wanted into others' heads. He had been just as dangerous as the dual-personality killer Primal we'd encountered recently.

  Moral of the story? Don't assume anything. You'll end up making an ass of you and me. Get it? Ass-U-Me. See? Still got it. My mental quip had me chuckling quietly to myself. Not assuming was a concept the new recruits hadn't grasped just yet. Jade and I pulled up next to Devlin, who was standing with his bulky arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place as he grumbled about the two Primal recruits who were in the ring. The gray mat flooring and red vinyl ropes jumped with each slam of a body. Neither was showing any inkling of tactical hits, each pretty much throwing as much force behind their punches and kicks as they could muster. It was sloppy, and only a few hit
s from each actually made contact, but they were both losing steam. Fast.

  "All right, gladiators. Enough," Dev barked at the panting Primals in the ring. "Do you not see how your techniques are not only ineffective but damaging to yourself?"

  "I'm not damaged," Brielle, a new female recruit, barked as she pulled in huge lungfuls of air, sweat pouring from her body.

  "Really? Do you think you could do more now?"

  "I do," Brielle said definitively, confidence oozing from her as she brushed sweat-drenched wisps of auburn hair from her face.

  "Okay, then. I want you to fight Nathalee."

  "Wait, what?!" I half shrieked in terror. "Ummm, she'll kill me, Dev," I murmured as an aside. I was not cool with stepping into the ring with a brawler who held no respect for me. Not cool, Dev. NOT. COOL. My death-glare laser eyes were coming out to play again. Practice made perfect, right?

  "It'll be good for both of you. I'll bet you surprise yourself," he said before putting a hand behind my back and guiding me toward the raised ring where Brielle stood with a conniving look on her beautiful face. I looked back over my shoulder, hoping Jade would have something to say... No luck. Jade just stood back and laughed quietly, perfectly happy with my new situation.

  "You guys suck. You know that?" My arm under the cast began itching like crazy at that moment. A manifestation of my anxiety? Maybe. I held up my cast, again reminding Dev of my handicap. I couldn't grip or really even close my right fist. My dominant hand. It's why I hadn't been able to start shooting a firearm yet, and that was a skill I really needed to master. All my "gifts" were more defensive and wouldn't do me a whole lot of good in stopping an assailant, and let's face it, I needed all the help I could get.

  "I told you that you needed to work on using it to your advantage and not letting it hinder your performance. So, here is your training. I'm still your tactical leader." He was loving this way too much. He could just sit back and watch me get creamed without drawing the wrath of Commander James or, maybe more importantly, Holden. My man still hated it when I was in compromising situations. He had gotten a little better about it recently, mainly because he’d had to, but maybe Devlin was hoping that Brielle would take the brunt of the wrath from whomever delivered it when this went badly. Because it would definitely go badly.