But one was messy and off to the side, a bit crumpled and with a coffee stain on the front - as if it’d been fished out of the trash at the last moment. Without thought, Amelia opened it. And saw herself. Pictures from the first night on the rooftops her breath coming out in white clouds as she gazed out at the sky, pictures of her looking at the sculptures in the Socrates park. Pictures of the night she’d been with him at the Brooklyn bridge the first time, hands stuffed in her pockets surveying the dark waters. Even the picture of her raging at him, cheeks flushed and eyes fired like a maddened warrior - from when she’d lost that first fight. And finally, pictures and pictures of her modeling nude for Kolya, all taken with an almost obsessive eye. The final picture was shot similarly to Kolya’s haunting painting, her head peering over her shoulder at him, and her hair falling down from the movement.
No. She wasn’t going to let him go. This wasn’t over. He had no choice. She was pretty sure, she was growing to love him - and he her. And if that meant he was going to pull away - she was going to push back.
The sound of a door opening close by alarmed Amelia and she dropped the folder shut guiltily and looked back. It was Kolya coming in to his studio. Quickly, Amelia stalked over to Kolya’s studio and opened the door. He seemed surprised to see her, obviously Kristoff had already told him.
“Where’s Kristoff?” Amelia demanded.
Kolya took a deep breath. “Clubbing.”
Amelia flinched. “When will he be back?”
“I really don’t know…” Amelia glared at him. “Look Amelia, I like you very much as a friend, so I say this with all the kindness I can - leave it. Go home and forget this. It’s better this way.”
Amelia stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, “I disagree. This shouldn’t be happening. And I won’t just walk away.”
Kolya ran his hand over his head and pulled at his braid. “Amelia, I was wrong to encourage you. This will just end with you getting hurt…or killed.”
Amelia walked over to Kolya and got up as close as she could, invading his space. “Then let me decide if it’s worth getting hurt over. You know he still cares for me. Some dumb ass chivalrous bullshit is getting in the way. And I don’t like being coddled.”
“Amelia,” he bit out. “You didn’t see yourself last night. You could have died.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “So you were there, huh?”
He looked discomfited and wiped his face. “You are playing with fire.”
Amelia reached out and poked him in the chest hard. “Screw you, I don’t like being condescended to!” Kolya seemed to growl lowly and his eyes appeared to glitter scaring her. Amelia backed up towards the door. But as quickly as the change occurred Kolya was back to himself. His face rippled from contemplative to serene, changing mood just as fast as if he were Kristoff himself.
“If you really are determined to continue…I’ve heard something you might be interested in …about the Italian conclave of vampires…”
Amelia stood outside the factory and thought, and thought and thought. It was as if she were locked in place by the proposition she was considering. She wasn’t sure if she believed what Kolya had told her…it seemed too… convenient that he suddenly had the information she needed.
She started out toward where her normal perch across from Nikolais’s lair was, pushing and pulling the thoughts around.
Kolya had told her he’d heard something about her sister’s death… A whisper among the witching world that the vampire Gianni had had something to do with her sister’s death. Gianni was the clan master of the local ruling vampire faction other than Nikolais’s - the Italians.
To go after him alone was suicide.
Kolya surely had known the vampire was out of her league and probably thought it would keep her from pursuing the matter. If she didn’t get killed outright - she’d get turned and added to the clan’s possessions. Just as Kristoff had said of Nikolais - a witch made a very good trophy.
Amelia dug into her coat pocket and pulled out her cigarettes, the pack hadn’t really been used while she’d been with Kristoff - she’d been too busy running after him all the time. The box was little crumpled, but it seemed the cigarettes were intact - if going a little stale. Reaching her perch she sat on the cold limestone and lit one pensively.
She kicked her feet and nailed the brick behind her with her heel in an anxious beat.
Pro: She could make real steps in finding out what happened to her sister. Get that much closer to her revenge.
Con: She could just as easily lose.
Pro: She’d prove to Kristoff she could hunt, and could do it successfully on her own.
Con: It was a little suspicious that Kolya had suggested it - hell, that he had the information in the first place.
Pro: She could get Kristoff back, or at least have the option to get him back once she decided if she wanted him.
Con: He could decide she didn’t need him and move on.
Pro:?
Con: She could die
Con: She could end up like one of the demons who’d killed her sister.
Con: It might not change anything between she and Kristoff even if she did win, or maybe the tip was bogus.
After a few minutes, Amelia made up her mind.
“I’ll do it.”
Chapter 20
The next day Amelia joined a 24 hour gym. She had considered going back to work and banking the money Kristoff had given her, but instead she paid the exorbitant membership fee for the year and signed up for as many classes as she could take. She might be stupid enough to go ahead with her plan, but she wasn’t going to go in blind.
Amelia knew she only had a little time to prepare for the strike on Gianni - may as well start with the head and work down. Someone knew what happened to Mona.
She wanted to do it before Kristoff could, she would finish what she began before he could even move a muscle in her name. So, instead of staking out Nikolais every night she staked out Kristoff. Carefully. It was he who’d made the grave mistake of showing her where he lived, and it was also he who had given her a shitty phone only attached to his and Kolya’s.
After alot of begging, Amelia convinced Jack to reverse the connection to the twins’ phones - so instead of being a dependent phone to theirs - she could track the two through her link.
And oh, Kristoff was a busy little rich kid. He hit the most lavish clubs every night, and every night Amelia tried to reconcile the man who’d help train her, joked with her, and suggested their sex meant something - with the douchebag club rat he was portraying.
But when he left the clubs alone every night, she knew in her heart - he was trying hard to be someone he wasn’t. Just what he’d accused her of.
The gym wasn’t much to look at, a stripped down set of spaces for only the most serious. But somehow it suited her mood, strung out and over extended like muscle straining to the bone. Amelia was at the gym every day, pushing herself harder than she knew she could go. She took mixed martial arts, lifted weights and swam. It felt good to be training herself, instead of waiting on Kristoff’s scattered instructions, their fight had given her conviction she’d never had. Even with her mother’s criticism she’d never wanted to succeed as a hunter so much. To not only avenge her sister, but prove herself a competent hunter. A proper Dagda.
The dojo at the gym tended to make Amelia sick with the remembrance of Kristoff’s own and what they’d done there. It had the same honey colored wood floors and bare rice paper walls. Yet it became her second home. The teacher was a woman only a few years older than Amelia named Hitome, who also taught the yoga classes.
As odd as it was, the disciplined art of balance and poise made Hitome a better fighter and a harder opponent. Hitome’s fighting was a symphony of lissom movement and tenuous grace. It seemed the body control she used in her yoga transferred over into martial arts as a sort of serenity of mind that led to a tensile combination of body awareness and control. Soon, Amelia
was taking the yoga class Hitome taught as well as the martial arts.
Amelia loved moving through the positions of her martial arts class, slowing the movements down to tiny increments of strained muscle extension. She went through her training with the same sense of bowstring tight control she used to do harder yoga moves. This paid off in not only stronger muscles, but better reaction time and a starved tensile strength.
Hitome, after several weeks of having Amelia in both of her classes, pulled Amelia away after class. “Amelia, while you are certainly the most dedicated of my students - but you push yourself too fast and too hard… I don’t like to pry into my students lives but you act as if the devil is coming for your soul and you’re preparing to fight him for it.”
“Oh, it’s nothing…I’m just learning how to protect myself. I was attacked by some…muggers…recently and don’t want to be a victim again.” Amelia prevaricated carefully.
Hitome looked her over in suspicion, she obviously wasn’t really sure Amelia wasn’t lying - but she was willing to let it go. Hitome seemed to pause for a moment then sighed, “I think you need an outlet for your frustration and fear. I don’t necessarily believe you about the mugging - but knowing how to defend yourself is a skill everyone should have. Something more than a mugging seems to drive you - something I sometimes worry may not necessarily be healthy.” She looked at Amelia meaningfully giving her an opening, but Amelia remained silent. “All right, keep your secret. I’ll keep training you, trusting that you won’t do anything stupid. But, if you are going to continue learning anything from my martial arts class, you’ll have to set your emotions aside. To have discipline one needs to be in control of violent feelings. Have you ever boxed?”
Amelia grimaced, “I’m not afraid.”
“I notice you only caught some of what I said. You are afraid and you are letting that fear make you angry and it’s hurting your concentration. You need something brutal and simple to get that out. When I’m angry I like to hit something.” Hitome grinned. “Using a punching bag will build your muscle and bone strength - and give you the option to beat something up all you want. Here.” Hitome tossed Amelia a pair of gloves and gave her a friendly shove out toward the boxing floor.
Amelia walked out toward the row of aging red leather bags reluctantly. Punching vampires wasn’t as effective as other things- they didn’t really stay in one place long enough to get a good hit in. Speed and weaponry were more efficient. Yet a well placed hit could stun a feral, so it might be useful. Amelia followed Hitome out into the dim and sweat soaked area of the gym where fighters practiced in the ring.
The two of them came to a smaller bag and Amelia waited to see what Hitome would do. It was probably going to be a waste of time, but she’d humor her. Despite Hitome’s warning, Amelia knew she needed her rage to fuel her.
Hitome seemed to be feeling Amelia’s reluctance and smiled. “I was like you when I started learning martial arts, but martial arts requires a quiet mind. If you are angry or afraid you can be sloppy and distracted. When I was learning, my sensei took me out to the ring and had me go a few rounds with some of the boxers. That day I went home in so many shades of purple I looked like a brushed plum - but I was finally drained. I’m not going to make you start that way, no fighting in the ring the first day. We’ll start with something that’s not going to hit you back.” Hitome struck out at the suspended bag with several forceful jabs, making it dance on its chain. “Now you try.” She said stepping back.
Amelia’s first hits thrown didn’t move the bag at all, and she immediately felt ineffectual again. She was the hunter too weak to fight ferals and come out unscathed, the Dagda tainting the bloodline. Amelia gritted her teeth. This was why Kristoff had left, she couldn’t take care of herself. Amelia gave the bag a nasty hit for being a symbol of every failure she’d endured in the last months. And this time it danced like it had for Hitome.
Amelia gritted her teeth and threw everything she had into making the bag pay for her own feelings of inadequacy, her anger at Kristoff’s rejection, and the pain of her continuing failure to avenge her sister. Soon Amelia was beating on the red leather without finesse, tears streaming down her face and her teeth grinding behind snarling lips. All the pent up violence and pain she’d been holding back was pounded into the cracked red leather. She didn’t even register Hitome there beside her until she was starting to pant and tire.
“That was impressive.” Hitome smiled lightly, ignoring Amelia surreptitiously wiping her cheeks. “Now let me hold the bag and I’ll show you how to hit it properly.” Hitome walked around behind the bag and held it still. “When you go at the bag, choose the spot you are aiming for and put your shoulders into it pushing through to your knuckles. Imagine your body is a piston, the shoulders and elbow and wrist to your fingers a continuous connected piece working in concert. Remember your body weight is also a weapon, throw yourself fully into the punch, without sacrificing your balance. Now, try to take all that rage and focus it at your shoulder, aiming at the point you want to hit.”
Amelia gritted her teeth and dropped into the stance she used for defense in her martial arts class, feeling like her arms were on springs, she drew back and jabbed the bag forcefully.
“Not bad,” Hitome said with a smile. “Now do it fifty more times.”
“Fifty! Isn’t that overkill?”
“Now it’s 75.”
Amelia groaned and started.
*
Kristoff struggled his way out of another packed club and wiped his hand down his face. When he’d started this campaign to forget Amelia he’d been angry and hurt and trying to prove she was just as replaceable as all the others before her. To say it wasn’t working was an understatement - each vapid club bunny, when compared to Amelia, failed to move him.
It also didn’t help that he knew she was out there watching, he could smell the scent of lavender, leather and cheap cigarettes wherever he went. Kristoff resisted the urge to stare at her perch on the building across from him. He knew she was following him - but what she didn’t know was she followed him even when she was gone. For once he understood why Amelia smoked those disgusting cancer sticks - he wanted a pack or two of his own.
“Hey baby,” a voice purred and long claws of manicured red grasped his arm.
Kristoff glanced over and grimaced, it was one of the club bunnies. Silicon boobs, puffed lips and bleached hair. The type he used to go for. He shrugged her off. “Not interested.”
“Oh come on, I’m just looking for a good time - no tags required. Just some down and dirty sex…”
“I’m dating someone,” he snapped before realizing what he’d said. Bitterly he realized that was part of his issue with all this clubbing - he didn’t feel available. And clubs were not made for people in committed relationships. He wanted to bang his head against the dark reflective glass windows.
The club bunny pouted, “But you’re alone right now… she isn’t waiting at home or anything? We could go to my place and she’ll never know.”
Kristoff couldn’t hold back, he glanced to the shadows on the roof across from him. “You’d be surprised,” he muttered out of ear shot. To the girl he spoke up. “But I would.” And he extricated himself from her.
The club bunny’s face twisted in disgust. “If you’re so hung up on her, why are you here without her in the first place?”
Kristoff closed his eyes and sniffed out the lavender, leather, smoke scent and grimaced. “I’m really not sure anymore…”
Chapter 21
Amelia could feel herself running out of time, when she followed Kristoff he seemed to be leaving his apartment less and less, seemed to grow more and more listless. In some vengeful part of her heart, Amelia hoped he suffered for his decision as much as she did. And she suspected so. A sick kind of pleasure jolted through her whenever he left a club looking tired and worn instead of drunk and happy.
It seemed his dissatisfaction was taking its toll though, and she saw him move
his things from the factory one night, and drive away. He was packing to go. Soon all that would keep him would be his promise to Amelia to avenge her sister. She needed to move before he could.
Kolya’s tip on the Italians had led her to the dark side of town where the gang bangers and dealers lurked. Watching the streets and talking to a few strung out kids, she learned the man in charge of the whole stew was none other than Gianni, even the humans knew of him.
The master of the Italian vampires had a reach that was poisoning an entire borough.
Gianni had business interests from the docks, and dealers, to the brothels and bars, a spectrum of both the legal and the illicit. Even if he hadn’t been a vampire she would have been tempted to exorcise his stain away.
Amelia would have to deal with Gianni soon, or face the fact that the act would be less satisfying without Kristoff there to know she succeeded without him.
Thus, to Amelia’s disappointment, she began staking Gianni out more intensely instead of spending as many days boxing or in the dojo. But, to her frustration she could only pinpoint him occasionally - and could never find the conclave’s nest.
Later that week, Hitome stopped Amelia as she was practicing. “You’ve been missing classes Amelia. What’s going on?”
Amelia glanced away from her friend and teacher not wanting to involve her any more than she already had. “I’m running out of time.”
“Running out of time for what?”
“I can’t really go into it, but in the next few weeks I’m going to need to use everything you've taught me to succeed - failure isn’t an option.”
“Amelia, what are you involved in? Ever since you came here you’ve been so serious, and I have always known you’re holding back why you're really here. You stress yourself raw, and you spend almost every moment in the dojo or training with me. What are you running from?”
A Guide to Vampire Hunting: ...and other failures (Alchemy Inc. Book 1) Page 13