They sat still for another 10 minutes and Amelia began unraveling the bottoms of her grey marled sweatpants by a stray thread. Then, in a huff, when Amelia got up to as if leave, he looked up as if just remembering her.
After the kiss, after all the flirting, it was almost insulting.
“Oh, there you are.”
“I’ve been here since 5 till. I wasn’t late.”
He waved his hand vaguely.
No, there was definitely a strange change going on and Amelia was put out at how quickly his personality, once more, turned on a dime. Kristoff stood up, and without showing her the rest of his work, he shoved them into a folder and filed it. “Can I see?” Amelia asked, pointedly nodding to the stack he’d just put away.
“Trash. We’ll have to do the shoot again. With all the upset about your sister I didn’t get anything good.”
“The thing with my sister came after you’d shot those photos. Besides I think you owe me a viewing of the photo you shot of me.”
“Nope, that one is mine. It’s too hysterical for words. I wouldn’t want you running to Kolya to make me destroy it.”
“I wouldn't run to Kolya,” Amelia scoffed.
“Well, we’ve dawdled long enough, I see you took my suggestion to wear trash clothing very seriously. I think these should be in the trash and maybe you should have something nicer to call trashy clothing. They’re covered in brown stains. Are they even clean?”
“It’s rust from working on a sculpture. And no, I cannot afford to destroy - or waste - any clothing I own. So stop complaining and get on with it.” He ruffled her hair condescendingly. She fought the urge to bite his hand for it.
“Well, as I think you should probably learn in a more sanitary location than in the muck of the Hudson, I am doing you a terribly big favor and taking you to my apartment to use my dojo.”
“I’m so flattered.”
He smiled toothily and swept on that voluminous camel coat. “Of course you are.”
As soon as Kristoff breached the front doors, a sleek Aston Martin pulled up and a valet got out. “Shall I drive you sir? Or will you be taking over?” The diffident young man asked.
“Master Kolya is still inside, he’ll be wanting you to fetch his Karmann Gia. I’ll see you back at the house Jonathan.” Kristoff said dismissively.
“You’re just leaving that man in the cold while we drive off?”
“No, oh defender of the downtrodden, he’ll go back to our parking spaces and get in Kolya’s car to wait until called. Get in.” Kristoff opened the door for her. Amelia eyed the sleek creamy tan leather.
“I don’t know, I might get it dirty,” snarked Amelia.
“Get in, Amelia,” Kristoff climbed into the driver’s seat and began fiddling with the car’s settings. “Oh god,” he grumbled, “Kolya drove this last. He’s going to ruin my transmission for the fifth time.”
Then straightening, Kristoff allowed the car to leap into motion, knocking Amelia back into the seat. “OOOF” She cried.
“Are you wearing a seatbelt?”
“Yes, DAD, you just drive badly.”
“I drive brilliantly. A car like this is meant to be enjoyed.”
“On the open road not in the streets of New York!”
“We must remember to find our little joys where we may.” Kristoff sermonized. “Would you like to drive.”
“Shut up. I can’t afford to get a scratch on this much less get in a fender bender. I’d owe you for life.”
“Very well then, do not attempt to backseat drive.”
“I’m in the passenger seat. This car has no back seat.”
“Oh my god, did you really say something so asinine?”
“Just sayin’”.
“Well, as my sainted mother always says. If you cannot contribute something to a conversation, hope you can make up for it by shutting up and looking pretty.” Kristoff replied.
“You made that up.”
“Sadly, no. My mother is very strict about such things as manners in public. Perhaps it’s why I find you so refreshing.”
“Are you suggesting I have no manners?” Amelia squealed, just as they shot through three red traffic lights.
“Now, now. It’s not like you had a proper raising now is it? You can’t be held at fault.”
Amelia sputtered. “Are you implying my family is less well bred than yours?”
“As they say, ‘own it.’ It’s quite charming - in an ill-bred way.” This time he glanced over at Amelia grinning in an oddly lopsided manner. He knew he was getting a rise out of her - he was working to achieve it.
Amelia frowned and slapped his arm hard. “You!” He swerved the car a bit theatrically.
“Now, now, we mustn't hit the driver I could over calculate a turn, and at these speeds…” He let his voice trail off. Amelia glared and held on to the oh-shit-handle. But with a jerk, moments later, they came to a stop.
Amelia glanced out, they were pulled up outside an enormous and modern apartment building at the security check point while a guard waved them into a private garage.
Amelia went to let herself out, but, ever the gentleman (when he wanted to be), Kristoff opened the door for her. Amelia stood and got out, into a parking garage nicer than her apartment and grimaced. She couldn’t wait to see residents’ reactions to her trash couture.
As if sensing her discomfort, Kristoff set a hand on her back and walked to the elevator across from them. “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “This takes us directly to my home. None else need know about your atrocious taste in fashion.”
The elevator was all shiny brass and faceted mirrors, a veritable confusion of lights and reflection. Amelia eyed herself next to Kristoff. He was tall, and confident. She was…small, and in filthy looking clothing. It wasn’t flattering. Why had he kissed her? She was definitely not his type. Glancing at him with this in mind, she found him watching her with a vague smile on his face.
Somehow that didn’t seem to reassure her.
When the elevator reached the 13th floor, it opened soundlessly into what should have been called a squished house. Not an apartment. She stood in the foyer where honey colored tiled wood inlay stretched beneath her feet in fishbone patterns. From her position she found herself staring out huge picture windows that seemed to dominate all the outer walls of the space. To her front, all this was framed by a double arc staircase, leading to a second floor.
Carelessly, Kristoff shrugged his coat off, draping it over a curled balustrade, and started walking upstairs. “Make yourself at home, I need to change into something looser to train in.”
Daunted, Amelia walked under the arch of stairs into what she assumed was his living room. As she entered she noticed a broad and large glass four sided fireplace dominated one wall, and enormous soft leather couches were scattered artfully. Honestly he could probably have a party of fifty in there and still make it feel intimate rather than crowded.
The whole apartment rather looked like a show room instead of a home. Nothing out of place, all things perfectly spaced and shined.
Creepy.
Amelia carefully sat on one of his white leather couches, wondering if there might actually be something on her clothes that would stain their cloud-like perfection. Concerned she stood back up. She really didn’t belong here. Just as she stood, Kristoff came down the stairs barefoot in a loose set of cotton gi pants and a top, tying the string on the pants while he went. Coming into the room he cocked his head questioningly. “Why didn’t you sit down?”
“I didn’t want to mess anything up.”
“It’s just an apartment Amelia, it won’t bite you.”
She grimaced. “It’s so… clean and neat…I wouldn’t want to disturb anything.” Suddenly Kristoff was in front of her picking her up by the waist. In the next moment he was letting her go and she was falling down. Onto one of the nice white couches.
“There,” he said. “It feels like a couch right? It looks like a couch. So why don�
�t you just use it like a couch while I get myself a cup of green tea, I always have a bit before I train as a calming ritual. Would you like some, or something else?”
“I’ll take the tea, thank you,” she replied uncomfortably. .
“Good.”
“Do you actually live here?” Amelia blurted out.
Kristoff laughed. “Not really.”
“Of course, now I get this place. How many times have you sat on this couch before?”
“You’re the first person whose derrière has graced those cushions.”
“No way.”
“I have a nice armchair in my personal suite and use that, I honestly never come out here unless I’m using the kitchen.”
Amelia looked around. “Well that’s a waste.”
“I prefer my home in Russia, it’s more antiques and personal collections. Remember I’m just visiting.”
“Right, antiques. Your brother says that’s the family business.” Kristoff looked up from where he was whisking matcha into water and gave a noncommittal nod. “Why does Kolya run the company?”
“I have a different role in my clan, as you know Kolya doesn’t hunt. So as the other brother, I must.” He poured the tea into two little cups and started over toward the couch. Handing one to Amelia he sat down beside her dramatically. “There, that makes me the second person to have sat on this couch. It’s monumental.”
“Well, I will say it’s a very nice couch. You’ve been totally wasting it by letting it sit here unused and unloved.”
A smirk tugged at Kristoff’s mouth and he sipped some tea. “I’ll try to religiously remember from now on to sit on it at least once a week so it doesn’t feel lonely. Does that make you feel better?”
“Much.”
The camaraderie turned into the first comfortable silence they’d ever had. But after realizing this, it became an uncomfortable silence just for trying to define what they were doing drinking tea and sitting together. It made Amelia too aware that they were actually having a moment where they weren’t fighting. So she decided to ruin it. It was just too intimate.
“So, what is this dojo shit then? Can’t we learn out there while working on my sister’s murder?”
“You sucked worse than I expected.”
“You did NOT just say that.”
He shrugged. “At this rate I’m hoping we can fend off human muggers in four weeks time - given some good training… You know hunting just may not be your calling,”
“If I’m so bad, why are you helping me?!”
“Someone has to or you’ll get yourself killed, and I’ve grown rather fond of you.”
“No. NO. This is off buster,” Amelia snapped jumping up. “I’ll be a good little art underling, but I won’t take abuse. I don’t need your help.”
Kristoff sighed and rolled his eyes. “I suppose this means tea time is over. Trust you to ruin a perfectly civilized moment. Off we go.” He grinned soothing some of the sting of his words and stood, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his pants.
“I said no.”
“No, your pride says no. Your mind had better be humble enough to say yes. Because I won’t help you take on Nikolais without training.”
“Fine, we’ll try this tonight. But if I don’t like it, we’ll quit.”
Kristoff ignored her and went back past his kitchen down another hallway, expecting Amelia to follow.
Reluctantly, she did.
Down the hallway Amelia found a room with golden colored wooden floors and bare walls lined with rice paper panels. Walking inside she saw Kristoff stretching.
With his shirt off.
Amelia stopped and stared. It was obvious why he was so good…
“Can you put your shirt back on?” Amelia blushed and stuttered looking at Kristoff. He rolled his eyes.
“I have an idea. If you take your shirt off we’ll be even.”
“No thanks, I, unlike some people, am not a shameless narcissist.”
“You wound me. Now come over here.” Amelia moved forward and he tossed two leather bracers over to her. “Put those on.”
Amelia examined the thick leather bands, they looked like something from a movie about gladiators. But she put them on. “So what are we learning today?”
“Defensive moves.”
“That's a little basic, don’t you think?”
“I want to start from the ground up with you. Fix any mistakes whoever taught you already ingrained. Assuming someone bothered to teach you at all.” He said and stalked over. “Now. Defend!” With that he lunged at her.
Amelia’s arm flashed up blocking what turned out to be real hits. “Hey, I asked you to train me - not beat me up. Ugh!” Amelia just barely blocked a jab to her stomach.
“If I went easy on you, you wouldn't fight as fiercely.”
Amelia slammed her left gauntlet into his nose the next time he went for a head shot, and suddenly he stopped. Standing still, he dabbed at his nose, grinning ridiculously when it came back bloody. “Not too bad after all.” He smiled. “We’ll move on.”
Amelia huffed out breath, “Great. Now I learn to attack, right?” But she was talking to his back because he’d gone over to a wooden box off to one corner.
He bent and rummaged around. “No.” He said, still rummaging.
“Then what?”
Kristoff came out of his crouch and turned around holding a stiletto knife. “You learn to block sharp things. Like knives - or vampire claws.”
Amelia blanched, “The blade’s dull, right?”
“Now what sort of challenge is that?”
Amelia dropped into a crouch her arms with their heavy leather gauntlets protecting her face. “I really don’t want to do this Kris.”
“For calling me that ridiculous nickname - I’d do it anyway. But you can’t back out, you have to face reality. You can’t, chicken out.”
“Is this how you learned?” Amelia snapped.
He laughed, “No, my father was much worse. I will not spill a drop of your blood. Trust me on this. I lost buckets over my childhood and adolescence.”
Amelia sighed, “Lets get on with this then.”
Kristoff did not dart at her as he had before. Instead he took measured steps to her side - and in paces that seemed perfectly spaced apart he stalked around her. Amelia twisted to follow him, never letting him out of her sight. If he was trying to replicate fighting a vampire he was frighteningly good at it. It was as if he dropped into some preternatural and calculated stalk, an apex predator - just playing with its food. Amelia was wary. The silent pacing continued until Amelia’s nerves were becoming frazzled and frayed from trying to anticipate the next move.
Just as her anxiety peaked highest Kristoff lunged from her side, trying to cut under her protecting arms. Amelia lashed out with a gauntlet deflecting him almost too late. In return he brought the deflected knife around to make a jab at her other side.
The dance was terrifying Amelia, no matter that he had promised not spilled blood. She jumped back from the thrust, catching the blade with the forearm of the gauntlet. Then he retreated again. To circle. He was testing the holes in her defense. She knew this, and remembered that he had said she telegraphed her moves, so she relaxed and shuttered her eyes - letting him have less to work with. The tension from this game, however, never let up.
*
Kristoff stalked around her looking for openings - there were many - but Amelia was doing better than he’d expected. He would back off briefly to give her a feeling of security, then in a whirl of unexpected movement he’d come back at her. She wasn’t as bad as he’d feared - to a certain point she had natural poise and flexibility - but she’d never be an accomplished hunter. Something was missing, for lack of definition - it was a born hunter’s thirst for violence
Kristoff stepped away from Amelia for a moment watching her chest rise and fall and her skin glisten with a sheen of sweat. With a little work, she could hunt with him. He’d keep her safe and she’d still
feel like she was fulfilling her family’s demands.
Assuming she still wanted to be around him in the future.
Disgruntled at the thought, Kristoff swiped another blade from the holster he kept at the small of his back. He’d usually take all his weaponry off before working out in the dojo, but in the attempt to keep Amelia on her toes he’d left one hidden.
Amelia’s gaze went directly to the new blade and she looked a bit concerned, but she firmed her chin and looked him in the eyes in challenge. He loved when that stubborn glint came to her eyes, daring him to do his worst - even if she was sure to fail.
With a grin he went at her face with the left hand blade, and she blocked knocking it away. Only to find the point of his right notched in the dip of her throat. Kristoff cocked his head in challenge, then stepped back, sparring always got his bloodlust up, and it seemed particularly bad with Amelia. “I take it back, you may never be the best hunter, but you are a quick learner. From this point on though, the game only stops when one of us is on the ground. I challenge you to make sure it’s not you.”
He pulled the knife away from her throat with preternatural speed, shocking Amelia with its absence. Kristoff silently cursed for a moment realizing he wasn’t acting at human pace, he’d need to slow down. When the next strike went to fall, Amelia caught it while defending from the blade looking to sneak through her surprise. He could see her starting to get cocky with her moves, she loosened her stance and waited until he moved again. This time Kristoff decided to strike at her unprotected waist, trying to put her off kilter. Her right forearm shot out stopping him, and her left flashed out to not only dash his left hand from its strike toward her face, but she drove her wrist with such impetus that Kristoff faltered in his hold on his blade. He had to admit he was impressed, she might not be talented, but she was determined and learned quickly.
A Guide to Vampire Hunting: ...and other failures (Alchemy Inc. Book 1) Page 9