Kevin shook out his arms and then lifted his weapons, waiting for the whistle to start the fight. His eyes were on Uridak, and he saw when Uridak activated the energy source of his sword. It spread across the steel like a blue flame, and Kevin arched a brow in surprise. Dwight had really upped his game since the last time Kevin had seen the sword. That was some impressive engineering.
Kevin gave him a nod of approval, and then the two opponents moved into the center of the ring. The blue energy whizzed by Kevin’s arm, and he dodged the opening blow just in the nick of time.
He used the axe in his left hand to block blows and the one in his right to attack, and he got two quick points within the first minute. Their feet shifted in a dance as old as time, and Dwight parried and spun and hit him in the upper shoulder.
Kevin staggered back, surprise making him drop his guard. He’d felt an electrical shock down his arm, and it was still vibrating, blue arcs of electricity shooting across the metal of his armor. He made the mistake of looking down, and that was all the advantage Dwight needed. He sliced a blow to the side of his neck and Kevin’s body seized up as the current raced from the top of his head down to his toes. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream, and the smell of burned flesh permeated his nostrils.
The crowd was deafening as it roared boos of disapproval, and then as suddenly as it had started his ears turned off and he heard nothing. His body trembled and his fingers seized around the axe handles. He couldn’t release them—couldn’t yell for help—couldn’t run away. All he could do was stand there and watch the death blow come.
Dwight was overcome with elation. He’d never gotten so many lucky blows in before and he was taking full advantage. He brought Dybbuk above his head in a two-handed grasp and brought it down with a mighty roar, striking Kevin on the other metal shoulder plate.
The jolt brought Kevin off his feet and tossed him like a rag doll against the ropes. He was dead before his body hit the ground.
Chapter One
Flurries of snow danced across the horizon, teasing of something more substantial to come. The air was crisp and the sky was a shade of blue that was painful to the eyes when combined with the snow. It would have been a glorious day without the dead body.
I pushed my sunglasses up my nose, and wished I’d waited until summer to get my hair cut so I had some protection on the back of my neck and ears. Of course, I could have remembered my scarf and hat, but that would’ve been too easy.
My name is J.J. Graves and I was no stranger to doing things the hard way, though I liked to think I’d gotten wiser over the past few years. Apparently, today was not one of those days. But on the bright side, I was having a good hair day, the holidays were over, Jack had just been reconfirmed as sheriff, and having my collar flipped up made me look like a TV detective.
“Nothing makes you feel more ancient than being back on a college campus,” I said, matching my stride with Jack’s. “Look at these kids all smug and arrogant in their hoodies and weird capes. Why are they wearing capes? Have things changed that much since we were that age?”
Jack snorted out a laugh. “Slow down, Grandma Moses. Though I have to admit I’m confused about the capes too. I feel strangely underdressed.”
“I’m always a fan of you being underdressed,” I said cheekily.
“Settle down, woman,” Jack said. “If you keep undressing me I’m going to have to take out worker’s comp. I’m only a man.”
“As the person on the receiving end of what happens when you’re underdressed, I don’t think that’s true. I’m not sure you’re human. But I’ll give you a reprieve until tonight so you can refuel.”
“I’m grateful,” he said, looking at me wryly.
I took a few seconds to get my fill of him. He was dressed in his normal uniform of jeans and boots, and he wore a khaki button-down shirt with the sheriff’s office logo over the breast pocket. The shirt was untucked and he wore a shoulder holster under a brown suede shearling jacket. His badge was clipped to his belt.
He was a work of art to look at—dark hair cut close to the scalp, a few days’ worth of beard, bedroom eyes that smoldered when he looked at me, and a scar over his eyebrow that kept him from being too perfect—and there were still moments I had to pinch myself that we’d been given this life together.
Jack and I had been childhood friends, and friendship had always been our anchor. But there had been something else that had taken root amongst the friendship—the kind of love that sustained through the lowest of lows and the hardest of hards. The kind of love that was only experienced by those who had weathered horrors and tragedies and come out the other side whole.
As I’d learned more about myself and the kind of person I was over the last couple of years, I’d discovered that I could live without Jack. But I’d always be a better person, a more fulfilled person, with him by my side. We’d always be stronger together than apart.
“Do you remember being this young and thinking you knew everything?” I asked, watching my breath come out in white puffs. “That naïve optimism to take over the world armed with nothing more than philosophical discussions of Dawson’s Creek and whether or not it’s okay to date the TA.”
“It’s always okay to date the TA,” Jack said. “And I vaguely remember being that young once upon a time. If I’d only known then what I know now.”
“What would you tell yourself?” I asked curiously.
“To stop messing around with TAs and go after you,” he said, winking. “We could have been doing what we did this morning for years.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I’m not sure I was ready for a twenty-two-year-old Jack Lawson back then. You were a handful, and I wasn’t even your girlfriend.” And then I asked again. “Seriously, what would the today Jack tell then Jack?”
His face went stoic and I noticed the scar in his eyebrow went white. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never really thought about it. It’s easy to look back now over the course of my life and think maybe I shouldn’t have moved to DC or gone to the police academy. Or even that I should have put in for vacation the week my SWAT team was called into that bank. But my friends still would have died, so I’m not sure what good it would have done. It’s the experiences in life that make us who we are. I’m not one to regret the past. It tends to limit the future.”
“So wise,” I said. “You should put that on a T-shirt.”
“I’ll save the T-shirt business for retirement,” he said.
There were so many students and buses blocking the roads it had been easier to park in front of the student center and walk across campus to the basketball arena where our crime scene was located. It would be dark in another hour, and according to the weatherman, we were going to get a good deal more snow before morning.
“This campus hasn’t changed too much since we were here,” Jack said.
“Looks like they got a new fountain,” I said, arching a brow and making him grin.
“Well, I don’t think they had much choice after the other one was destroyed. College kids are a real menace to private property. They should’ve had cameras. A place is only as safe as its security system.”