Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Lucas

There were two times in my life when I felt everything just fall into place: the moment Imogen accepted our bond and the moment I picked up a wooden practise sword.

Like a lot of guys, I'd come to the sword academy to learn how to wield a sword like the guys I admired on the big screen. I wanted to be Geralt, grunting fuck as I fought monsters in the The Witcher , or Connor McGregor, fighting to be the only one left standing in The Highlander . I wanted to be Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride or even Luke, wielding a lightsaber. Learning about actual sword craft was a whole other thing. What was cool and flashy on the big screen would get you killed in real life.

Something I told the kids.

"So we won't learn how to double wield?" Heath, an older boy asked as he clasped his fencing mask under his arm.

"Double wielding is dumb." This was James, a teenager who'd come to us recently, but with an encyclopaedic, theoretical knowledge of swordplay. "It leaves you with no ability to use a shield to protect yourself."

"Maybe I'd be so fast I wouldn't need a shield," Heath snorted.

"No one is?—"

"That fast," I replied, silencing the lot of them. There were five children that came to me to learn about swords, and the others were getting restless at the arguing. "We all need to defend ourselves because with actual bladed weapons…"

I drew my sword and held up my shield, something that had the kids stepping backwards. Elodie had been a little concerned about the class, wondering how this would work with kids that had seen abuse in their own homes. My focus was entirely on their reactions, checking in with each one to see how they responded. I didn't move until their pupils returned to normal size and their breathing evened back out.

"With an actual sword, one slice in the wrong place and it won't matter if you're fast or not. You'll be bleeding out on the field."

And this was the thing. I watched brows draw down and chins get thrust out, hands forming fists. Like me, these kids wanted to learn about something that made them feel strong, competent, capable, rather than being ground down all the time.

"So that's why we use shields." I nodded to the rack I'd built at the back of the room. "Grab one and your swords and make sure to put the padded jackets on."

The kids moved as one, rushing towards the wall to pluck up the wooden weapons down and pull on jackets and helmets as Imogen drew closer.

"Did you want to have a go as well?" I asked.

"Oh no." Her hand slid down my bicep, and I may have flexed it just a little. I wanted, needed, those two feelings of pleasure that came from having a sword in my hand and her touch to come together, fuse and become greater than the sum of their parts. "I think I just want to watch this."

Her eyes met mine, and I admit I searched them for a hint of mockery, her tone for a snide edge, like I often heard when my brothers found out what I got up to in my spare time. Instead, I just saw all this warmth and affection, maybe even…

"Are we going to focus on parrying?" James asked, the first to rush back, helmet pulled on, his sword held at the ready. "I feel like I need a lot more work there."

"We will," I replied. The kid was amazing, but his obsessiveness about this topic could get a bit much for the others. "We'll be practising the same thrusts we performed last time and then using a technique to parry that thrust. Alright, let's get everyone lined up, masks on, and hold our swords in longsword."

This was with the point upwards, the blade at the ready. I smiled as the kids did just that.

"Good, now let me see you all thrust on my count. One, two, thrust." The kids moved as one, thrusting their sword forward with various degrees of efficacy. I walked up and down the line, getting them to do it again as I made a few corrections.

And Imogen watched me.

Or rather, drew me. I'd brought a clipboard and some paper and a pen with me because we tended to take notes to forward to Elodie. The kids didn't stay at HQ indefinitely, just until their mum's got on their feet and their abusers were facing some form of justice, from jail time to domestic violence orders preventing them from coming anywhere near the family they hurt. We then handed on the case notes to their social workers, schools, and therapists to help keep a continuity of care. Imogen ignored that, taking a seat on the gym floor and flicking forward to the blank pages before the pen flew across the page.

I wanted to pull away, look at what she was drawing, but that wasn't what this hour was about. The kids needed me, a male figure who could model healthy ways of interacting with children. The sword play was almost irrelevant, except to us, especially James, it wasn't. If I'd sat him down and asked him about his situation, he'd have clammed up, gone silent and staring, like he was when we met him. Instead, he stared at me, giving me his entire focus as I demonstrated the next movement.

"OK, someone's thrusting at you with a big sword," I told the kids. "You don't want that to stab into you, so what do you do?"

James' hand shot up and some of the other kids rolled their eyes, but I'd deliberately posed the question to give him a chance to answer. I made sure he didn't info dump, but he needed an opportunity to feel strong as much as the others did.

"You sidestep," he said with great authority.

"Because you can just dodge out of the way of a sword," one of the girls, Eleanor, said with a shake of her head. "It's not a video game."

"No, but by having your sword raised, ready to block the thrust," I said, "you can use their momentum against them. James, did you want to demonstrate?"

He did and he didn't, I could see that in the nervous roll of his eyes, but he stepped up anyway. He held his sword correctly and then asked in a tight voice, "Am I attacking or parrying?"

"Your choice," I said, because that was the important thing. In some ways it was the hardest on teenagers, coming out of an abuse situation. Right when they were taking tentative steps towards independence and adulthood, the person who was supposed to be supporting them through that cut their legs out from under them. So, giving him the choice, putting him in control, was deliberate.

"I'll parry," James told me through gritted teeth.

"Like you'll be able to stop Lucas."

Heath's fatalism made my teeth lock together. I could see it in the way his sword point dropped, all hope fleeing, and that despair was a contagious thing.

"We'll see, won't we?" I said, before turning to James. "OK, so how's this going to go?"

"You'll thrust by stepping forward," James' voice was stiff, conscious he had an audience now. "I'll deflect your blow." A rude snort from Heath earned him a long look from me. "And redirect it past me."

"Where you want it to go." I nodded. "That's it. So, ready?"

James firmed his grip and then nodded sharply before pulling his mask back down.

It was tempting to screw it up, to not use the skill I'd worked hard to develop, but James would've noticed that in an instant and been offended at me babying him. I didn't use the bear's strength when the man's was more than enough, stepping and thrusting my sword at the boy in the same moment, the momentum carrying me forward. James flinched but rallied quickly, pulling his feet together and twisting his blade to catch mine and redirect the weapon into the space beside him.

"Whoa!"

Heath's look of shock as well as Eleanor's and the rest of the group's surprise was everything, and when James pulled his mask off, I saw it. An inability to believe what just happened, quickly replaced by a joy that it had.

"How did you do that?" Heath asked, excited now as he rushed to James' side. "I thought he was gonna skewer you in the guts."

"He used Lucas' strength against him," Eleanor informed him with a nod, a lesson she'd internalised due to being a comparatively smaller girl.

"Show me how!" Heath demanded, and so James did.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Imogen as I ambled closer. The kids had worked out how to perform the manoeuvre now and were practising over and over. Sounds of laughter, of squeals of surprise, and grunts of determination filled the room, but it was what we didn't hear that was important. No cries of pain, hurt, or misery. Each moment we avoided that was a good one for me, but I needed to know what my mate thought.

"It's beautiful." She set her pen down on the clipboard, a rough sketch of me teaching James on the page. Her eyes met mine, and right then I felt seen. "Like I would've killed to have lessons like this when I was a kid. Sport sucked, but learning how to be a sword-wielding shield maiden? I'd have been a lot happier about being in PE, but… These kids aren't learning to LARP." Her gaze burned into mine. "You're building them back up after their dad's or mum's boyfriends knocked them down."

"Trying to." I looked back over my shoulder, but my focus was always drawn back to her. "Sometimes I don't know how successful I am or if this is a good thing. James… he's kinda bonding with me, needing someone who understands the sorts of things he likes. His dad…" I didn't want to talk about what his so-called father had done to his son, somehow feeling like that darkness didn't belong here. "I can't talk about that for privacy reasons?—"

"But he was a bad guy, and he hurt his son." Imogen's eyes drifted sideways to where James parried over and over again. The skin around them creased as she frowned. "That's so hard to believe and yet… It happens." Her hand gripped the pen so tightly her knuckles went white. "I just wish there was a way to stop all child abuse."

We all went through this phase, wanting to stamp out the problem at the root, but there was something innate in human beings. To want power and in some, they took strength from beating down, hurting those smaller, weaker than them.

"We all do," I said, crouching down beside her, my hand going to her back. My eyes trailed over the bruises on her wrists, now yellowed and mostly healed. Imogen flushed at the attention, so I redirected my focus to her lips, right before I kissed her.

"Lucas' got a girlfriend!"

The sing-song voice had us breaking apart to see the kids had all stopped and were smirking at us. Well, all but James. He wasn't done, was never done, and Elodie had been forced to have a word with me about it. Some kids who survived an abusive situation blanked everyone and everything, refusing to engage, but others? They clung to the nearest person who showed them kindness.

"I do, and now you guys are going to play king of the hill."

The kids all lined up quickly because they loved this part of the lesson. Each one was given a turn to fight the ‘king,' and if they managed to hit the king, they took the flimsy plastic crown I picked up from the weapons rack and became the next liege.

"Who was king last time?" I asked.

"James, and Heath was the time before that," Eleanor said sourly, so I dropped the crown on her head. Her beaming smile made it all worthwhile.

"OK, our queen awaits, ready to defend herself against your attacks," I said with a theatrical wave. "Show me what you've learned."

She crowed when Heath tried to stab her, his blow going wide because he wasn't trying hard enough, dismissing Eleanor because she was a girl. Instead, she knocked his blade away and then used his stumble forward as an opportunity to tap his chest with her sword point. He went to protest, but I shouted, "Out! Back of the line." Grumbling, he did just that as the next person stepped up and had a go.

Eleanor was usurped by James, but he didn't reign for long, one of the other kids taking his position with a swift blow. He really did need to work on his parrying. He muttered something to that effect as he went to the back of the line. Around and around they went until every child had some time as king before I was forced to wrap things up. The gym doors were thrust open, and a noisy gaggle of kids came streaming in with Kyle at the lead.

"OK fair knights and beautiful ladies," he told them, "time to wrap things up because its rumble time!"

The younger kids all screamed and ran for the supply closet, looking for balls as my students packed everything away.

"That was amazing." Imogen sidled up to me, her arm wrapping around my waist. "Teaching the kids was great, but… you wielding a sword? I might have had a few role-playing ideas."

"Oh really…"

I was intrigued, but Kyle had to come running up.

"You're here. Good, I need another team leader." She let out a little yelp as a whistle on a lanyard was dropped over her head before he turned to the others. "Red team with the lovely Miss Imogen! Green with me!"

"Red team?" my mate hissed at me. "What do I do with a team? I failed PE at school."

"Lead them."

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, not wanting to leave her for even a second, even though I knew I had to. Asher was pushing hard for a complete analysis of Phil's computer, and while the algorithm I'd written helped with that, it merely sorted through all the information, highlighting stuff I needed to personally discard or forward on.

For Imogen, I thought, nodding before pulling away.

"I'll see you tonight?" I asked.

"You better, or I'll come and find you in the server room and drag you off to bed."

That mental image had me grinning as I left the room.