When he sat up, Mujahid was standing in the doorway more than ten feet away.“How did you do that?” “Like this,” Mujahid said. His eyes glowed and another invisible slap hit Nicolas.“Hey—”“It was a hand on your face or a boot up your arse. I chose the one I thought you’d prefer.”“Real nice.” “You stick out like a virgin in a whore house, boy.” He nodded toward the stone wardrobe. “Get dressed. Meet me in the training hall when you’re done. Know where that is?”Nicolas rubbed his face. “You told me yesterday.”“Did I now? Well…go where I told you, then.” Something had changed. Nicolas thought the old man had started warming up yesterday.Mujahid left and a skeletal penitent closed the door behind him. “Asshole,” Nicolas said.An invisible slap sent Nicolas flying off the bed. “All right already!” Nicolas said. He heard a chuckle and footsteps fading.He yanked open the wardrobe. A sour, musty smell permeated the cabinet. Great. Moldy clothes.
