Turner. Jonathan De Montfort

took up a position opposite James in the centre of the mat.

      ‘One arm or two?’ James asked.

      ‘One,’ Hero answered flatly.

      ‘Left or right?’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘Okay.’

      They positioned themselves with their right arms crossed like swords in a fencing match.

      ‘En garde,’ they cried simultaneously.

      And then they were lost in the game. Occasionally, one of Hero’s thrusts would slip past James’s parry, but James would quickly move his head out of the way to prevent a touch.

      ‘That was a close one, buddy,’ James said. ‘You’re getting better at this.’

      James blocked a strong attempt from Hero, then jumped into the air, rotating three hundred and sixty degrees to give himself a clear shot at Hero’s chin. He deliberately swiped past it instead.

      ‘Fly-by!’ He landed behind Hero, raising his arms as if saluting an invisible crowd. ‘For nobility.’

      ‘For nobility.’ Hero turned to the Light Master and sighed. ‘You see? I told you I’m not a hero.’

      ‘You have raw talent, son,’ the Light Master said encouragingly. ‘You’re the fastest natural I’ve seen.’

      Hero wiped a trickle of sweat from one cheek. ‘Clearly, not fast enough. I only lasted ten seconds.’

      ‘Almost everybody I know who has fought your brother lasts about two or three seconds at most.’

      Hero glared at James accusingly. ‘You play Touch My Chin here?’

      The master chuckled. ‘We do a different type of fighting here. But I do find it interesting that your game is very like sword fighting. Anyway, Hero, you’re sweating. I guess that was quite a workout?’

      He swiped his forehead with the back of his arm. ‘It always is whenever I play with James.’

      ‘Shall we get a drink? Tea? Coffee?’

      ‘I’d prefer a hot chocolate.’

      ‘I’d love a coffee,’ James chimed in.

      ‘Just like Dad,’ Hero said mockingly.

      James scowled.

      The master led them out of the gym and across the road to a busy coffee shop. The smooth, almost sweet smell of freshly ground coffee set his nose and brain dancing. The place was packed, mostly with teenagers leaning back on the mahogany chairs, playing with their phones while chattering over the whooshes of steam from the milk foamer. Others focused on their laptops, doing their most important work. Luckily there were a couple of open spots left.

      ‘Take a seat.’ The master gestured towards a vacant table. ‘I’ll get the drinks.’

      The boys squeezed in next to a trio of ladies excitedly talking about a friend who was getting married.

      The master brought their drinks back on a tray. Hero couldn’t wait; it had been a while since he’d had hot chocolate, and this had whipped cream on top. As the Light Master reached to hand James his coffee, the steaming cup slipped and tumbled towards the lady sitting next to them. She shrieked and jerked back in anti­cipation of being scalded.

      And then Hero was holding the cup by its rim. Not a drop had spilled.

      ‘It’s okay,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got it.’

      The woman gasped and lifted up her hands, unscathed. ‘Did you see that? Unbelievable.’ She turned to everybody in the shop. A few of the other customers started to clap.

      Hero shrugged. ‘Anyone can do that.’

      ‘I’ve never seen anyone do that before.’ She turned to the master with a frown. ‘And sir, could you be more careful? If it wasn’t for the young man here, that would’ve gone all over me.’

      ‘Sorry, ma’am. Getting a little clumsy in my old age.’ He turned back to the boys. ‘We’d better leave.’

      They picked up their drinks and headed back to the gym.

      ‘That’s not the first time that’s happened, is it?’ the master asked Hero as James held the door. ‘You saved your dad’s coffee, right?’

      Hero glanced at James. ‘You told him about that?’

      The master lay a warm hand on Hero’s arm. ‘That’s why I set up another accident just now. I had to check. I had to see it for myself.’

      Hero felt pinned beneath that light touch.

      ‘When you saved your dad’s coffee, that was when your brother knew you had a talent, the same one he has.’

      ‘What talent? James? What’s going on?’

      James nodded as if to say ‘just listen’.

      Hero wilted. Was he different? Was it obvious? How many other people knew? He didn’t want to be different; he just wanted to be like everyone else. But ‘a talent’—something strong? Maybe he could defend himself at last.

      The master drew back his hand. ‘If I told you that I could teach you to beat your brother at Touch My Chin and defend yourself against those bullies, would you be interested?’

      Hero nodded. ‘That’s why I’m here. Well, I’m not so bothered about Touch My Chin, but I do want to be able to defend myself.’

      ‘What you have is natural ability,’ the Light Master said. ‘It’s linked to your emotional state. That’s why you’re able to catch that cup without thinking, but you weren’t able to outrun those kids. To do it all the time, when you want to, you need to come and train here with us every day.’

      Hero couldn’t hide his grin. ‘Okay.’ He turned to James to ask when he—

      James was looking at him with a strangely sober expression. And so was the Light Master, for that matter. Hero blinked.

      ‘Listen to me,’ the master said. ‘This is a big commitment that will last five years. That’s a long time for a young man your age. Are you sure you can do that?’

      If James could do it . . . He nodded. ‘Yes.’

      ‘We might have a problem, though, master,’ James said, one hand thoughtfully on his chin.

      ‘Which is?’

      ‘There’s a girl at school. She’s obsessed with Hero. She was following us this evening.’

      Hero shifted uneasily, glaring at James. What business was this of anybody’s?

      ‘Ah, that is a problem,’ the master said. ‘I’m sorry, Hero, but you can’t train while your attention is on things like girlfriends. You can’t have a girlfriend.’

      Hero looked from the master to James and back again. His brother had chosen not to have a girlfriend? Seriously? ‘Why not? What is this, a cult?’

      ‘Not a cult, son, but the training we do here is very dangerous. And because it’s linked to your emotions, you mustn’t have close ties with anyone until you’ve mastered it. Otherwise, you could hurt them, maybe even kill them.’

      Hero studied the mat as he absorbed the implications of what he was hearing. He looked up at James. ‘I really like her.’

      James raised both hands and let them drop again to his sides. ‘Sorry, bruv. You can’t—not and be one of us. You need to drop her.’

      He stood rooted to the spot, the last droplets of sweat evaporating from his red face. He looked back at the master. ‘How long?’

      ‘That depends on you, son. But in all likelihood, about two to three years.’

      He