The Reckoning by Kelley Armstrong Page A

“How about picking up those self-defense lessons?”
    “Sure,” I said. “I’ll get Tori…and don’t make that face. I’m getting her. Derek, you joining us?”
    “Nah.” He turned and headed down the hall. “You guys go on.”
     
    Simon gave us a self-defense lesson in the backyard, teaching some basic holds, which Tori, with her binding spell, thought was kind of useless. But she only whispered that to me and didn’t rub it in with Simon.
    There was a moment during that lesson, when Simon was trying to show Tori a hold and they were standing side by side, me sitting on a patio chair watching them, and…For a second, I thought Maybe they could be related. I don’t know what it was, the angle of their faces, I think, something about the cheekbones, the mouth. Dark eyes, same height, same slender build.
    Then Simon stepped away and whatever I’d seen disappeared. I decided I was taking a few superficial similarities and letting my imagination fill in the rest.
     
    Dinner came. Dinner went. I headed upstairs to get ready.
    I always thought I wasn’t the kind of girl who gave a lot of thought to stuff like this—first date, first kiss. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted those things. But I didn’t fantasize about the big day and what I’d wear and how I’d act. Or so I thought.
    But I guess I still always had this image of my first date. I’d buy a new outfit and maybe get a haircut. I’d definitely wear makeup and I’d probably paint my nails. In short, I’d look better than I ever had, and when I opened my door to that first guy, I’d see it in his eyes, in his smile.
    When Simon knocked at my bedroom door, I’d brushed my hair and found Vaseline for lip gloss. I couldn’t even shower because Tori was running the washing machine. As for clothes, I wore the same jeans and shirt I had been in since escaping the laboratory, though I had managed to get the pizza sauce stain off the shirtsleeve…most of it, anyway.
    Still, when I did open the door and he smiled at me, it was just like I’d always imagined, and I knew everything was going to be okay.

Sixteen
    A BOUT FIFTY FEET INTO the forest, Simon stopped dead and swore.
    “What?” I said.
    He waved at the woods. “I should have checked with you. Is it okay? Being out here?”
    I assured him it was fine.
    “Derek warned me the woods made you nervous, that you were worried about raising dead animals.” He glanced at me. “And you weren’t even thinking about that until I brought it up, were you?” He cursed again, more imaginatively now.
    “It’s okay,” I said. “As long as I don’t summon or fall asleep, I’ll be fine.”
    “And if you do fall asleep, I need some serious work on my conversation skills.”
    We walked a little farther.
    “Speaking of conversation, how, umm…” He made a face. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”
    “Did you have a lesson with Andrew today?”
    A dramatic whoosh of relief. “Thank you. Yes, I did. Boring, boring, boring. No sudden surge of power for me. I’m just a regular—” He paused. “Okay, that was incredibly insensitive. Did I mention I’m nervous? I should be happy to have normal powers. And I am.”
    “But still, it must be annoying, seeing Tori casting new spells right away when you’ve been training for years.”
    “Yeah. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t Tori.”
    “So what spells can you do?”
    “Nothing useful. You need to master the basics first. I get that, but right now, all I care about are spells that will help us, and perfecting my fog spell isn’t going to do that.”
    “That knock-back one is good.”
    He shrugged.
    “Maybe Andrew can teach you the binding spell Tori casts.”
    He shook his head. “It’s witch magic.”
    “That’s different?”
    “Do you want the quick answer or a lesson on the spell-caster races?”
    “Option two please.”
    He smiled, hand tightening around mine. “There aretwo major spell-casting races. Sorcerers are male and have sons,