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I’m saying. I’ve got to break you down before I can build you back up. Fear and adrenaline are what stir your power. You have to get used to the feel of it, let it pass that damn wall of yours, and then we can work on focus and control.” He moved again.
    A blur to my left. I saw it coming and blocked his first swing with my forearm, dropping down and spinning in anticipation of the next hit. But he came at me with a boot to the side of my knee.
    I cried out with a sharp curse, my entire body dipping toward the pain. And yeah, it was there, that instant burst of shock, like a gasp of the heart. The moment Bran had been talking about.
    I grabbed his ankle. Like a slingshot, the fear and adrenaline whipped through me and then back out through my grip. Strike . In an instant I felt the power surge out of me, snapping like an electrical current, so quick and terrifying that I released Bran and fell back, eyes wide and panting.
    Holy cow.
    My hand was numb. I was trembling so hard that I couldn’t even sit up straight, so instead I balanced myself with my palms flat on the floor. This had been the goal, but, goddamn, it scared the shit out of me.
    Bran sat a few feet away from me, pant leg rolled up, eyeing his ankle and calf, the skin nearly white. After a few seconds he released his leg and shot me a triumphant grin. “Better.”
    He pushed to his feet and held out a hand to me. I took it and let him pull me up. “Again tomorrow,” he said, dismissing me, and then walked to his table for a drink.
    That was all the praise I got? Better. I shook my head, smiling despite the aches and pains, because as tough as Bran acted, he was a good guy. And in the last fifty minutes he’d taught me things with a blade and my body that I never knew were possible.
    I went to my bag, grabbed the bottled water I’d gotten from the cafeteria earlier, and downed most of it. Then I sheathed my blade, pulled on my jacket, and left the room.
    My thoughts turned to Athena. With my training started, my other objective was to get inside her head, figure out her weaknesses and where she might have taken Violet.
    And for that, I needed Michel’s help.
    The Lamarliere House was in the French Quarter, so I didn’t have too far to walk from Presby, down St. Peter Street to Royal, where Michel’s three-story house loomed on the corner.
    My legs were still weak and shaky, and the sweat on my skin was starting to dry, leaving me feeling cold. Already the aches and pains from my training were settling in. Tomorrow the soreness would be almost unbearable. I made a mental note to stop at the drugstore near Canal Street and grab some Advil on my way home.
    The “before dinner” crowd had yet to trickle into the streets, but there was still activity, still music drifting from open doors, tourists shopping, and the clip-clop of hooves on asphalt.
    I breathed in deeply, loving the scent of sun-warmed bricks and all the different aromas from the bakeries and restaurants.
    In the thirteen years since the Novem bought the ruined city, the Quarter had been completely restored. It was now a very expensive tourist destination, carefully overseen by the Novem and one of their biggest sources of income, one that swelled during Mardi Gras. Once the sun went down, another parade would start and the sidewalks would be crammed with people.
    I noticed a few looks and frowns thrown my way as I headed toward the enormous house on the corner, pretty sure it had something to do with the blade sheathed at my side. No doubt to them I was just another strange kid in New 2 with dyed white hair, combat boots, and a fake short sword strapped to her thigh.
    If only they knew the truth.
    I smiled at the tourists I passed, hopped onto the sidewalk, and rang the bell. The door opened. The butler took one look at me, let me inside, and then led me to the second floor, the main living area of the house.
    I’d only been here once, after escaping Athena’s prison. I’d heard the