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Warfare (Life After Book 2)

By Julie Hall

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My heart beat as if it was trying to build up speed and erupt from my chest. I thrust my sword up in a defensive stance as I checked my surroundings, keeping my breathing shallow and silent. On the off-chance my enemy hadn’t already discovered my position, I didn’t want to give it up.
I weaved my way between cargo containers and shipping crates piled along the harbor. My feet moved soundlessly on the smooth concrete, a skill I’d been training hard to accomplish. The brackish smell of stagnant water cloaked the docks, infiltrating my nostrils and coating my throat. It tasted of decaying waste.
My stomach rolled.
Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision, but I couldn’t risk moving to wipe it away. Wisps of fog played hide-and-seek around the crates. Between the darkness and the fog, visibility was low to non-existent. An attack from above was a real concern.
Fear scrambled for a foothold I refused to give.
My arms shook with the strain of the sword’s weight. I’d finally built up the muscle to wield it fluidly, but the exertion and adrenaline of hours of fighting, chasing, and being chased was beginning to show.
“Don’t lock up your muscles, even if you’re so tired you think there’s no other way to remain standing. Stay fluid and light on your feet, Audrey. Always.”
Hugo’s voice echoed in my head as clearly as if he stood right next to me. It was a lesson he often reminded me of. I tried to do exactly what he had instructed, but I was getting to the point where perhaps locked muscles were the only way to remain standing.
A sound drifted toward me—flesh sliding across the concrete. I cocked my head and strained to hear more, but only the breeze tickled my ears.
Three sharp clicks were my only warning before the creature sprang at me, talons, jaws, and an abundance of spikes extended toward me as it flew through the air. Without a moment to think, I threw myself straight at it, ducking into a roll at the last second while its tail’s razor edge sailed over my head, landing in the very spot I’d so recently occupied.
This one was smaller than most of the others, but what it lacked in girth, it made up in, well . . . pointy sharp things all over its body. This was a beast I wanted to keep out of my personal space.
Someone had gotten creative with this fellow.
I seriously wanted to throat punch whoever that was.
The demon lunged at me with its claws, followed by a whip of its tail and a snap of its jaws. The assaults came in such quick succession that only the gusts of air from its movements alerted me to each consecutive attack. The demon herded me to a dead end, with containers blocking off all escape routes. I quickly wiped the sweat from my eyes.
Enough messing around.
I had to defeat this thing now. Only an offensive attack would bring it down.
I threw extra force into the next defensive block, just barely enough to throw the creature’s equilibrium off for a millisecond. That was all I needed. I turned and sprinted toward the container and then took two clanging steps up its metal side before flipping backward. With a battle cry, I aimed my sword down, straight at the creature’s spinal cord. I saw everything as if time itself had slowed, I saw my aim was true and I would hit my mark.
There was a single, solitary moment of victory before I was jerked to a sudden and painful stop.
The world went white.
I looked around in confusion. “What?” I yelled into the nothingness, still suspended awkwardly in the air. The harnesses that wrapped around my legs and abdomen pinched. There’d be bruises for sure. “I was perfect.” The restraints disappeared and I dropped onto my belly as abruptly as I’d been frozen mid-strike. “Oof.”
A huge screen materialized in front of me, playing back the last few moments. I watched myself deflect the creature, its balance shaken as I whirled around, reached the shipping container, and in a perfect maneuver propelled myself airborne and back toward the demon. I was right, my blade had been in perfect position. It was the tail—and the two-foot jagged spike attached to it—about to impale me, that I’d missed.
I sagged in defeat and thumped my head against the now-padded ground. Groaning loudly, I flipped onto my back.
“So not fair,” I mumbled.
“That was the best one yet,” a disgustingly cheerful voice said.
I groaned again. A horn blared, the sound ripping up my eardrums and I flinched. The voices of the technicians monitoring the gauntlet once again became discernible. The white around me transformed into a gym, one of many within the training center.
This one was typical. Floors padded with thick blue mats and windowless, bland walls. The only noteworthy differences were the absence of a weapons-wall and an observation deck situated high in the back, giving an overview of the action to observers and the technicians who monitored and ran the trials.
I cracked one eye open and craned my neck to watch Hugo’s approach. “I am not convinced the other hunters run the same gauntlets as me. If they did, there wouldn’t be any active hunters. This trial is freakin’ impossible. If I’m not going to be skewered by a berserker hybrid demon—which doesn’t even exist in real life by the way—then I’m being decapitated, drowned, slimed, or . . . wait for it, it’s my personal favorite . . . squished by a fat demon who literally moves too fast for the laws of physics.”
Hugo beamed down at me, patiently amused as I continued my rant.
“I stand by my previous statement. We should not have to fight things that don’t actually exist. And,” I ticked a finger in the air, “I should be able to use fire during these trials. In real life, my sword blazes, remember? Not having my weapon makes these challenges completely unrealistic.”
“What an exciting gauntlet,” Hugo said as he offered a hand to help me stand.
A jolt of power shot up my arm as our hands connected. I’ve never gotten a read on his emotions through the empathy link, only a strange shock of energy. He still pretended not to know what I was talking about when I asked about it, often changing the subject immediately, but the gleam in his eye told me he knew exactly what happened. I’d long since given up trying to figure it out.
I received a pat on the back when I got to my feet. “You’re so close,” he continued with a genuine smile on his face. “I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made in these short few months.”
Even disgruntled, my heart warmed under his regard. With effort, I dematerialized my body armor and wiped the remaining sweat from my face with the sleeve of the fitted cotton shirt I wore underneath.
“That was the hardest one yet.”
“Yet it was your best one so far,” he countered.
The look I shot him had him chuckling again. My mentor’s moods shifted only from calm to serious or happy. His ability to keep his cool in every situation was truly a gift I did not possess. It was as if, regardless of the situation, he was simply happy to be there with me.
An enigma for sure.
And very, very different from my last mentor. My heart twisted and I swiped a hand down my face to cover a wince.
“Another failed gauntlet,” I said. “What are we up to now, lucky number thirteen? I should have known this one would be a bust.”
Hugo laid a hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture of comfort. His eyes were kind. “You will get there, I promise. Sometimes—”
“Great work today, Audrey,” Rhett, one of the technicians, interrupted. “You were almost there. We were all rooting for you. I’m sure you’ll get through it next time. After you pass the initial trial, the gauntlets get shorter. You only run them to make sure you’re still on your game.”
I nodded my thanks, even though his interruption was kind of rude. It seemed like people constantly interrupted Hugo. You’d think his aged appearance alone would earn more respect.
Anyway, Rhett’s words were nothing I didn’t already know. Life since I had died almost six months ago, was a whole lot of getting on the game, staying on the game, and making sure I wasn’t off the game. Nobody back on Earth had any idea how busy the afterlife could be.
I forced a kind smile before he turned and went about his business.
Then I turned to Hugo. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why that happens so often. Some people need a serious etiquette refresher.”
Hugo waved it off, smiling that secretive smile of his. He gestured toward the exit and we fell in step with each other. Well, kind of. Hugo shuffled and leaned heavily on his cane. His white hair bobbed along with him.
I slowed my steps to match his gait, more of a stroll than a true walk. It was refreshing in a place where everything operated at such a fast pace. Like stopping to smell the roses and all that junk.
Hugo was a walking—or shuffling—dichotomy. A frail teacher one moment and a fierce warrior the next. Serious and poignant, yet with a sparkle of humor often shining from his eyes.
Each cloak donned and discarded at a moment’s notice.
He interrupted my musings. “Why don’t you take a short break before we continue training?”
I groaned dramatically. “You mean we’re not done?”
“Afraid not. We have a couple more hours of torture—oh, forgive me, training—before the day is finished,” he grinned. “Here we are, the girls’ locker room. Get some water and change into fresh workout clothes, and I’ll see you in our gym in a bit.”
I pouted even as I capitulated. “Fine, but I’m not going to be any fun.”
“Deal.”
I hadn’t realized we were negotiating, or I’d have tried harder. He left me standing there, his poufy hair bobbing as he shuffled down the hall and around the corner.
I blinked once. “What a nut.”

Back in the gym twenty minutes later, the door slammed with a bang. For a moment, my former programming kicked in and I spun around with a pounding heart and then an unacceptable sadness. Hugo hobbled toward me with a fatherly smile.
“Expecting someone else, my dear?” He always knew when my thoughts were elsewhere and didn’t hesitate to call me on it.
It was as embarrassing as it was startling.
“Not especially,” I answered truthfully. “For a second there I just thought . . .”
My brain snagged on the memory of my first day of training. Seemingly forever ago. Logan plowing through the door, the noise that followed, the dropped sword.
I shook my head to clear it. “Never mind, it was nothing.” I forced a smile around the fractures in my heart. “What adventures are to be had this afternoon?”
It was a joke of ours. Hugo was all about learning through repetition, so the reality was that training was as far from adventurous as possible. Similar to Logan’s style—my insides pinged again—but with a gentler touch.
Hugo always insisted I learn to use other weapons in conjunction with, and even instead of, my sword. Since I had a sword that burst into holy flames and charred the flesh off my enemies on contact, I kind of didn’t see the point, but he held firm.
He said I needed to be a well-rounded fighter and shortcuts wouldn’t do me any favors. I hardly ever argued with him. I simply didn’t have the heart.
It would have been a reminder of my former mentor. The one I tried desperately to stop thinking about.
Logan and I had parted ways amicably enough . . . I supposed. There had hardly been a word between us since. If I were truthful with myself, I would admit it hurt.
But I prided myself on being deceptive only with myself these days, so the truth was deeply buried. Our mutual friends recognized the tension, and like the children of divorce, they took turns eating at our separate tables and spending the evenings with one and then the other.
I didn’t like that, or most of the other changes since I’d switched mentors, yet I still thought it was for the best. Spending a lot of time with Logan was not healthy for me.
His cold demeanor, on the other hand, most likely came from wounded pride. People didn’t know my real reasons for asking for a different mentor, so it reflected poorly on him.
And then there was Kaitlin.
There had to be something between them, but for the life of me I couldn’t see it. It was as confusing as it was annoying.
Romona, my grandmother—and now my best friend—was my saving grace these days. She was my anchor to this realm and the earthly one as well.
She shared in the grief I’d been plagued with since getting my memories back and softened the blow of losing my family on Earth. She kept my mind on better things and reminded me of the Father who loved me.
I’d yet to see God since my time with Him on the snowy peak, but I felt His presence daily. The hole within filled in a little more every day, even as new fractures appeared in my heart. But, I reasoned, a heart could break and a person still remain whole.
I was banking on it.
I looked up at Hugo, realizing I’d become lost in my thoughts once again. He stood waiting, leaning heavily on his cane with both hands.
“I’m sorry, you should have said something. My mind wanders more often than it should.”
His gentle smiled appeared. “Sometimes there is a reason for the wandering. A reason for the searching. If you never stop to be silent, you won’t hear the nudging of the Lord.”
“Nudging of the Lord?”
“Yes, that quiet voice inside that is trying to guide you. If you constantly fill your mind and never stop and be silent, how will you ever receive your answer? When you ask for guidance you must not merely ask, but believe. One who doubts is like a wave in the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”
I barked out a short laugh. “My silence isn’t usually productive. More like obsessive. You’ll have to teach me some better meditation skills.”
“Do you have your book?”
I didn’t need to ask which one. Hugo had been on me to read the ancient Scriptures since day one. But something kept me distant from my loving Creator’s Word. I shrugged and turned to walk toward the practice dummy in the corner, busying myself with preparing it.
“The more you know of Him, the more you will be able to see the way He does, and the more you will be able to hear His voice above the throngs.”
Hear His voice?
“Yes, hear His voice. The gentle whispering of His truth in your ears and heart, comes with knowing Him.”
I turned to him with furrowed brow. Had I spoken out loud? “But I’ve only heard Him the one time up on the mountaintop.”
“Oh, I’m sure that is not true, but it sounds like you need to add listening to your list of things to practice. Sometimes you need to be still and quiet before you can hear His voice.”
Hugo’s words gave me a spark of hope. Could I really hear from God on a regular basis? “Will He sound like He did on the mountaintop?”
“Not always.” He flashed a cheeky smile. “There will be times He will sound like me.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure that’s what all the mentors say to their trainees. So, what you’re saying is I need to go into my room and close my eyes until I hear your voice whispering in my ear.”
“Something along those lines.” His toothy grin was familiar. It meant he was either making fun of me, or laughing silently at a joke I didn’t understand.
Both regular occurrences.
I chewed my lip, taking his words to heart. As I turned away, Hugo’s hand settled on my shoulder, startling me.
“It will come with time and practice, as do most things. Just like a baby taking her first steps. They are shaky at first, but become stable and sure with repetition.”
“You know how I love being compared to a baby,” I deadpanned.
The shrug of his ancient shoulders told me the analogy was appropriate. I humbly swallowed the pill. I would have jumped down Logan’s throat for saying such a thing, but this wasn’t Logan, and I was tired.
Humility was a hard lesson for me.
Hugo’s words had constantly challenged me over the last few months. A few words from him could hit my brain and travel straight to my heart, leaving a burning impression in both places.
I would lie awake at night battling over them. It was as if my heart knew they were true, but my head fought them out of a defiance I didn’t understand.
If my head would just yield to my heart, I might find peace, but night after night, day after day, my head fought on.
Weariness settled over me.
“You have your answer in front of you, Audrey—that which will quiet your tumultuous heart. It’s yours for the taking.”
Before I could think it over, he clapped his hands loud and hard. I jumped.
“Now, let’s begin this afternoon’s adventure. How about we work on swords for a bit? That should cheer your spirits.”
He was right. I bounced on the balls of my feet and shook out my arms and legs, imagining the melancholy being shaken from my mind at the same time as the stiffness from my limbs.
“Let’s do this thing.”

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