The absolute only.

All of them knew the time they'd have to fight the Atrika would come again. The only question was when. Adam hoped it wasn't in his lifetime, but he'd be ready if it was.

"Come on, Adam. Don't hold back just 'cause he's the boss," Jack called from the sidelines. "I need you to break him in for me. I'm next up, man. I'll buy you a beer if you can beat him."

It wasn't so much the beer that motivated him, though he wouldn't turn it down. It was more a desire to beat Thomas. Just because, normally, at least in swordplay, he could.

He'd even quit smoking to train. Now that was dedication. His fingers still twitched for a smoke now and again, but at least now he could run a bunch of laps and not be wheezing at the end. He'd tried to stop drinking, too, but that hadn't gone as well. Adam figured a man needed a few vices. Kept him interesting.

Adam nodded as he eyed Thomas, who adjusted his grip on the sword handle as if anticipating a renewed assault. "That's a bet, Jack."

Fire roared through his body, his magick tingling through him. Blue flame leapt from his fingers, curled around the grip, and shot up the blade. He roared and engaged.

Swoosh. Clang.

This time Adam was the one who set teeth to rattling.

"There's the Adam we know and love," called Jack.

Adam pivoted, renewing his attack. His blade connected with Thomas's and he pushed him back a few steps. Grunting, sweat streaming, he pressed harder. Adam might be gifted in swordplay, but that didn't mean Thomas was easy to beat.

Swoosh. Clang. Swoosh. Clang! Clang! Clang!

Thomas blocked and defended, but Adam had him on the run now. His muscles bunched and burned. To defeat Thomas Monahan he had to dredge up every last molecule of strength he had. His whole body flexed and sweat poured down him as he beat his opponent backward, up against the wall of the sparring chamber.

He went for the final shot, cutting upward with his blade and lightly touching Thomas in the stomach with the edge of the shiny copper weapon.

Death blow.

Panting, Thomas dropped his sword to his side in defeat.

Out of breath, Adam dropped his sword, too. "Sorry, boss." He shrugged and grinned.

Thomas regarded him through obsidian eyes and leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees. "I'm really glad you're on our side, Adam."

Jack bounced out into the middle of the sparring mat, obviously relishing being rested and refreshed while Thomas was panting and exerted. "Okay, my turn."

"I don't think so," answered Isabelle, who'd just entered the room. She came to stand near her husband and reached up to finger the short bunch of hair at his nape. "My mom is here for a visit. Thomas said he'd have lunch with us."