Chapter Eight

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"I'm going to kill you," I tell Grace as we make our way to the hockey fields the next day.

"I mean," she's grinning. She is properly grinning! I'm actually going to kill her. This isn't funny. "The point of these lessons is for you to try, anyway."

"Do you know how embarrassing this is going to be for me?"

"Listen," she says, seriously. "Elijah is one of the best students, his brother is one of the best spies, his mum is legendary. There is no one better to learn from."

"Why could he not teach me the theory! Why does he have to come for the practical?"

"Because! He offered! He obviously likes you and he's one of the best. Honestly, you should be thanking me."

"I'd sooner die."

"Well, if you've never had any combat training at all, you probably won't have to worry much longer about that."

"This isn't a joke!" I half shriek.

She made a deal with Elijah to train me instead of her, which means in exactly four minutes I am going to totally humiliate myself in front of the schools most eligible (and hottest) boy. You get my point. It's going to be horrendous, and she's laughing about it.

"Oh, come on! Lighten up, I wish Elijah had taken me under his wing when we'd first started. But he avoided all girls, even though I clearly bat for the same side. He and I could have been besties."

I roll my eyes, "please don't turn my humiliation into your tale of woe."

Grace pouts a little, "you're no fun."

We reach the clearing of the field and whatever I'm about to say next is completely taken from my mouth as I spot Elijah. He's running, full pelt, and shirtless. Even in the distance I can see his bloody abs and well knit arms.

"He's done that on purpose," Grace tells me, "he's a suave git. It's blooming September! It's not even warm!"

"It's not exactly cold, is it?" I hiss, but I can't take my eyes off him. He doesn't look like a sixteen-year-old boy, there's nothing cute about Elijah, he's all hunk.

"Hey," He says when we reach him, he's panting, his chest rising and falling. There's a drop of sweat falling from his temple down to his jawline and even though sweat on everyone else is disgusting, it isn't on him.

"Hey," Grace says for us as I'm seemingly unable to speak.

"Are you ready?" He asks me, throwing his black body hugging t-shirt on.

I beg my brain to function like a normal person around him, and force my tongue to move. "To fight two people who have been training since they were eleven? Sure."

"Funny," He says, but he doesn't smile. "I don't think it would be fair for you to take me on your first go, so I'm gonna ask Grace to come at you with all she has and see how you cope."

I look at him appalled, "with everything she has? The semi-trained agent?"

Elijah shrugs, "that's what they did with us."

"Christ," I mutter under my breath, to which Grace laughs.

"I want you both to stand ten-foot-apart and when I say go, you go."

Grace strides away from me, then she cracks her neck and starts limbering up. She goes from my 5'4 funny roommate, to someone who looks like she'd kill anyone in a matter of seconds. She's petrifying.

"On second thought," I start to turn away. "I actually think I'd rather not be the best the school has ever seen."

"Woah," Elijah says, grabbing my arm and spinning me back around. "You've got this."

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