I held my breath as I waited for Grampa’s verdict. He wouldn’t dare let Bran go. Surely, he couldn’t be that desperate.
“I’ll discuss it with the Cardinals and Master Haziel.”
Unbelievable. I jumped out of bed. “What is there to discuss, Grampa?”
“Lil—”
“He’s not going out there, period. What are you trying to do? Use him as bait?” Grampa closed the gap between us as I continued. “If you haven’t noticed, the Tribe only comes out to play when we are out there. They don’t want you. They want us. Maybe it’s Bran they are after. Or maybe it’s…me.” My voice broke just as he pulled me into his arms.
Grampa didn’t speak. He held me as I cried, something I’d avoided doing since the attack. Lack of sleep had reduced me to a whining ninny. Of course he would never use Bran as bait. Grampa had integrity. He was likely to use himself first before sending anyone else.
He leaned back and studied my face.
I swiped my cheek and gave him an uncertain smile. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted and not thinking straight. You’d never do something so despicable.”
He smiled and kissed my forehead. “No, I wouldn’t. So? How are you feeling?”
“Like Tartarus swallowed me whole then spit me out.”
He chuckled. “What do you remember of your dreams?”
I frowned. “Why? Do you think there’s a reason I’m having them?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. The Psi-dar didn’t give us anything to work with.” He let go of me and pushed his hands inside his coat, making me realize he was dressed for hunting. He must have either just arrived home or was about to leave when I screamed. “I’m trying to understand what is happening to you.”
That made two of us. “The fog appeared out of nowhere, then the lightning and the sounds.”
“And the woman’s voice?” Grampa asked.
“I still can’t understand what she says. The sounds and the screams always swallow her words.”
He touched my clammy forehead. “I don’t know what is going on, but you can’t go on like this forever. Bran says training is good for you, but—”
“No,” I protested. “I need to train. It burns off the excess energy.”
Grampa sighed. “Okay. We’re going to have a joint conference of High Council members and senior Cardinals from all the sectors starting tomorrow, to discuss our next move. The High Council members love wasting time listing useless diplomatic solutions where a pre-emptive strike is needed. I will be in and out as usual, just not as often. Will you be okay?”
I nodded, then a thought occurred to me. What if they were attacked during the meeting? The attack by the nature-benders had decimated the Guardians. Having the High Council and senior Cardinals in one place could be disastrous if the Tribe attacked them.
“Where are you meeting?” I asked.
“Rio, headquarters of the Southwest Sector.” He pulled out a pocket watch from his coat pocket and glanced at it. “It starts in exactly twenty minutes. It might be 5 a.m. here, but it is eight in Brazil. Since I’m opening the meeting, I think I’d better head out.”
“Could you change venues every few hours?” I asked.
Grampa frowned. “We could. Why?”
“All those psi energies in one place are bound to draw attention and make you guys sitting targets.”
“Sweetheart, every High Council has an impenetrable security created by its Psi-dar,” he reminded. “No demon can breach it.”
“Yet the Tribe found us in Bermuda despite the high-security shield,” I said.
“She has a point, Cardinal,” Bran added, coming to stand by my side. “The Tribe might not have known the exact location of the island, but they were drawn to our combined psi energies. I think you should do as she suggested.”
Grampa’s frowned deepened then he palmed my face and pressed his lips to my temple. He reached out and gripped Bran’s shoulder and nodded. “I think we’ll do just that. Now try to rest. Both of you. Help her go to sleep.”
“Of course, Cardinal.”
Grampa patted my cheek then teleported. I glanced at Bran. “What did he mean by help me go to sleep?”
“He knows that my presence calms you down.”
Ah, the curse of having a powerful Psi as a grandfather. Nothing ever escaped him. Bet he’d know when I finally lost my virginity. I cringed at the thought. Or maybe now that I was a stronger Psi, I could compel him not to read me. I turned and eyed Bran. Maybe I should practice on him. We had two hours before the training session with Master Haziel.
I took Bran’s hands in mine and looked into his emerald eyes. You must do my bidding without questioning me.
“What are you doing?” he asked, scowling.
Compelling you to do my wish. Come with me.
He chuckled, dimples flashing. “Nice try. Do you want to head to the pit for an early workout?”
“How come I can’t compel you?”
Bran tapped my head. “I hear your thoughts, Sunshine. And the calculating gleam in your eyes told me you were up to no good before you spoke. Come on, change into your gym clothes and meet me at the pit in three minutes.”
I pouted. “You are no fun.”
“I don’t mind being your guinea pig, just not now. Training will get your mind off seducing me. Not that you need to. The first person at the pit gets to choose the first weapon,” he added, then teleported.
I made a face. Lack of sleep might make me cranky as a hellhound, but he wasn’t beating me.
Being able to see psi energies had its perks. I noted that Bran wasn’t in the pit before I materialized. Although lights were on in the Academy’s rotunda, the pit was in total darkness. I willed the light crystals to turn on as soon as I arrived.
I was choosing a wooden staff when Bran arrived.
“I won,” I said with glee.
“I should have insisted on proper dress code,” he said, staring at my feet.
I glanced down and grimaced. We all had several pairs of lightweight leather martial arts shoes, in black or black and red, for use in the pit. He wore all black. Mine didn’t match.
“Nitpicking, sore loser.” I threw one stick to him.
He caught it and rotated it while moving, already anticipating an attack. “We’ll see about that.”
“After the sticks, we’ll use knives then swords.”
“Bloodthirsty this morning, aren’t you?” He teased, circling me slowly, knees bent and feet angled away from each other for stability, eyes on me. While I held the long staff with two hands, knuckles up, he rotated his in one hand.
“Scared?” I asked.
“Shaking in my shoes.” He rushed me.
Ducking, I blocked, twisted my stick and disengaged it from under his and attacked, aiming for his feet. He teleported out of the way and appeared behind me, but I’d anticipated his move. I turned and knocked the staff from his hand.
He caught it and cocked his right eyebrow. “Very good.”
“I know.”
Next time around, I wasn’t so lucky. He had me on my back in five moves.
“Stop goofing around,” he scolded, offering me his hand. “Don’t ever let me get inside your head and anticipate your next move.”
I hated it when he talked to me in that superior tone. Ignoring his hand, I teleported to my feet and swung, aiming for his ribs. He blocked, shifted his weight and leveled a kick at my exposed side. I ducked and jumped back. Anchoring the stick down on one end, I swung on it and caught him in the chest with both feet. He staggered backward and grinned.
“Could be better,” he said.