“And he secretly loves it, even if he doesn’t know that himself.” Tim laughed and gestured for me to walk between some bleachers toward the rubber mats up ahead. “Ya know, his grandfather Michael once told us that Haven was the best that Heaven could create . . . The older he gets the more I think that isn’t just restricted to his ability to fight.”

“There’s just something about him.” I smiled and glanced around at all the dozens of students dressed in black moving around the bleachers. “When he was Archie, I found myself wanting to coddle him. It just feels funny now that he’s . . . ya know . . . massive—whoa. This is a setup indeed.”

“Yeah, we don’t mess around with combat.”

The second Tim stepped out from the walkway between the bleachers everyone in the gym froze. All their eyes widened and locked on him. I was blown away by their gym. The right wall had punching bags lined up and hanging for people to kick, punch, or hug—like that kid about twenty feet back. The rest of the room was lined with rubber mats like at any martial arts gym, but this was just bigger. There had to be fifty yards or more, and the back wall was completely open to the outside, where I saw even more mats.

Tim sighed and waved. “No stress, keep doing what you’re doing. This here is Frankie. She’s The Tower. Y’all are gonna leave her be to train while you focus on your own stuff. Try to resist the urge to pester her. She’s new here. As you were. Go ‘head.”

As they turned away from him, I chuckled. “Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. For sure.” He gave me a smirk but then his smile faltered. “Actually, I need you to do me a huge favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I just need you to do something, nothing huge, let me go get it. In the meantime, spar with some of the other kids—Jackson?”

I followed his scowl and spotted fellow Coven-mate Jackson Lancaster standing in the middle of a mat staring at the ground while a few middle school-aged kids wrestled around him. Those aquamarine eyes of his were normally bright and pretty, but today they were stormy like the murky waters during a hurricane.

Jackson looked up to us and nodded once, but that was it, no other reaction.

Tim cursed and led the way over to him. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Jackson, what are you doing here?”

Jackson scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t know. I feel like she’d be upset with me if I just sat by her bed the whole time when . . . when . . .” He slammed his mouth shut like he was about to lose control of his emotions.