He nods, his posturing and muscles stiffening. I sense he doesn’t trust my calm, rational voice as a reality, fearing I’m going to unleash a can of whoop ass on him the likes of which he’s never experienced before.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tension slides out of him. “Okay. What do you want me to promise?”
“Don’t project thoughts, desires, questions, wants, needs… pretty much anything to anyone, without me there.”
“I didn’t mean to, I swear!”
“I know, I know, calm down. Sparring is supposed to simulate fighting in real life, and it’s only helpful if you practice like it’s a real threat. But you still have a lot of the basics to master before you should even consider integrating mind-manipulation into your fighting repertoire.”
“I understand what you’re saying. But if I don’t know when I’m doing it, how can I know to stop?”
“Tell me what you were thinking right before you accidentally projected.” I already know the answer, but want him to figure it out.
“Uh…” He stops for a moment, perhaps to gather his thoughts. “I was thinking I wished Asa would be distracted by my shoes. Like he’d glance down and I’d catch him off-guard.”
“And is that what happened?”
“Yes, it is. His eyes wavered and I pressed forward with my attack. He then shouted out the color of my shoes after my strike landed.”
“Okay, so it sounds like you’re going to have to curb your impulses a bit better.”
He looks away and mumbles, “Easier said than done.”
“I know, Paul. Trust me, I know. But you still have to try. If you focus on developing the ability rather than learn concrete fighting techniques, you’re going to be screwed in a real physical challenge, you understand?”
“Yeah, I get it. I just don’t know how to do it. Can you put a block in my mind, or suggest I don’t project anymore?”
My face freezes and my good humor slides away. I don’t think he fully realizes what he’s asking me. To consciously insert a block into someone’s mind messes up everything leading to and away from the block. It’s risky. And if it’s not the last and only option, then it shouldn’t be the first choice. “I can, Paul. But that’s not a healthy option—for you. Why would you ever invite someone into your head to play around?”
He quickly shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to. No, definitely not. I suggested it because I trust you. I didn’t understand the implications.”
“I figured as much. If anything, you need to be working on building your inner walls and safeguards, to not allow someone else inside.” I smile and draw him back toward the dojo. “One idea could be to wear a lined silver hood. It’ll block your abilities.”
“Would the silver hurt me?”
“Not as long as it’s lined and not touching your skin directly. But more important, is building your control. How about we start working on those blocking techniques right after we finish sparring? No offense, Paul. But it’s going to take you years of fight training before you’re ready to pit your skills against anyone you might face from the Tribunal or this secret society of manipulators. Protecting your head against enemies is probably the smarter option.”
“Okay, great.” His head comes up and locks on his training instructor. “Does that mean I can take a break and watch you beat on Asa for a change?”
Asa’s gaze is fixed on us. He nods, up to the challenge.
“Sure.” I say, glancing at the large, muscular shaved-headed vampire. “That sounds like fun.”
A tightening of Asa’s jawline lends a determined cast to his expression. “Bring it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
RAFE
Asa steps forward, almost as if he’s squaring his resolve, his face settling into a blank mask. He bounces on his toes and side steps, crossing one foot in front of the other, circling the smaller form of my wife, looking for an opening. It’s like he thinks controlling his outward appearance will make a difference when going toe to toe with a vampire who can read your mind.
Then again, it’s not like Dria needs to slip into his head to beat him, nor would she when sparring. Knowing her, she could probably trounce him blindfolded while wearing a silver hood. I glance once more at his stance. I doubt he’s aware of it, but the young man broadcasts his next move, a split second before he acts.
Poor guy. He has no idea what he just opened himself up for.
Dria sees the opportunity and adjusts her response, countering with a solid hit that sends him to the mat. The soldier is like a jack-in-the-box, popping back up, seemingly without effort, to dance the opposite direction.
After a few minutes of attack and smack down, sweat dribbles down his scalp and his fancy footwork from earlier seems to have slowed. I give them another couple minutes and then he’ll be done. There’s no way he’ll be able to last much longer. Hopefully, she won’t crush his self-confidence too badly. It’s always easier to witness someone else suffer at the hands of a master, rather than endure the beating yourself.
Very soon, the only sound in the still air of the dojo is of Asa’s labored breathing, wheezing raggedly in and out. Whoever said vampires don’t need to breathe never witnessed one fighting with a master vampire. The sweat I noticed a few minutes ago now drips off his nose. He won’t be able to say he didn’t get a good work out, that’s for sure.
As their sparring continues, Asa begins to shout when executing a move—either as a distraction or in an expression of frustration, I’m not sure. In a series of moves almost too quick to track with the human eye, my wife throws the younger vampire, hard and fast. The thump of his head reverberates through the floor, releasing a pained yell from his lips.
The young man lies in a heap, dazed and slow to react. He grunts and rolls over, not popping up like he did the first few times he went down. “Holy crap. For a tiny thing, you sure do hit hard.”
Vivian doesn’t respond, just continues to watch him carefully.
I chuckle. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Asa glances at me then back to Vivian and scowls. “You don’t even look winded.”
“But you,” she says, “on the other hand, are showing serious signs of wear. I’d rather not continue and risk you getting injured. Great session, Asa.” She smiles with good humor. “You did really well.”
He grunts his agreement, looking like he’s holding back spewing obscenities. Yeah, I get that. I want to swear at her after we spar, too.
She waltzes out, presumably heading to the showers in the gym locker room like she normally does after practice. Justin appears in the doorway, perhaps drawn by the noise. Asa, still facing the back of the dojo, doesn’t notice his presence.
Well, now is as good a time as any for them to meet, right?
“Hey, Asa,” I call out. “Got a minute? There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”
He turns toward the door, and sees the tall, lanky stranger. His expression registers confusion and then his mouth drops open and his eyes roll back in his head. The shaved-headed vamp sways forward and crashes to the mat, out like the proverbial light.
Paul’s first reaction is to laugh, loud and long, while mine is to rush forward and kneel at the fallen man’s side. I gently turn Asa over to face the ceiling and check his vitals. He appears to have fainted, perhaps from the shock of seeing his brother—although I’m sure the blows to the head courtesy of my wife played a large part, too.
“Justin,” I say, “Why don’t you go take a seat in the dining room? We’ll be in to join you once he comes to. I’m sure he just took one punch too many today.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” the young wizard asks, concern marring his features. “Should we call a doctor?”
“A doctor?” Paul repeats, laughter still tinging his voice. “You do know he’s—”
“That’s enough, Paul.” I cut him off before he reveals Asa’s undead condition. Not that it’s a secret, but Asa may want
to tell him. “Justin was just trying to help.” I motion toward the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. He’ll be fine.”
Justin takes one last look at the prone man on the floor, still having no idea who he is. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” But instead of walking out, he steps closer, staring down at his brother. “He looks oddly familiar, but I don’t recall meeting him. Was he in Argentina with you?”
Well, this certainly isn’t going as planned. “Uh, no. He wasn’t. But I’m not surprised he looks familiar.”
Justin lifts an eyebrow, “Really? Why?” At my lack of response, he shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not vague or anything.” He stands over his brother, contemplating his face. “There’s something about him…”
“I’d meant to tell you in another way, so I’m sorry about this.” Justin glances up at me, his features questioning. I take a deep breath. “His name is Asa Monson. And we think he’s your brother. Eric works here, too.”
The wizard’s confusion turns quickly to shock. “What? I’m sorry. Did you just say the guy on the floor is my brother? As in, from the family I haven’t seen for fifteen years? How could that be possible?”
“Vivian has this theory about Fate…” I quickly realize that won’t mean shit to a guy his age and change tactics. “We hired Asa last year—through a mutual connection, he came to us when we had a need for more security. A few months later we had a group here from Canada. His brother was with them and they reconnected on the resort.
“I know it’s a lot to absorb.” I lean down and raise one of Asa’s eyelids, checking for a pupil reaction. “Would you mind waiting outside until he wakes up? I don’t want to freak him out even more.”
“Uh… okay.” Justin takes another look at his brother before turning to leave.
In less than a minute, Asa wakes up to the grinning face of Paul, leaning over to see if he’s okay. I back up and stand to give them both room.
“He’s back,” Paul says.
“What the hell happened?” Asa asks, his voice groggy.
“You fainted, man,” Paul replies, a tinge of superior-sounding glee in his voice.
Embarrassment heats Asa’s face. “No way. I’m not a fainter.”
Paul smothers a smile. “Went down like a tree in the woods. Timber!”
I shove Paul out of the way and lean down to help Asa sit up. “Take a few deep breaths.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. Your wife seriously kicked my ass today.”
I examine his face carefully. I don’t think he recalls what brought on the faint. “It could have been that, yeah. But I have a feeling it has more to do with who you saw after.”
Asa’s face scrunches up, like he’s thinking back. Then his expression clears and stares at me. “Holy shit. You were with my brother, weren’t you? I didn’t imagine it, right? Where is he?”
Justin’s voice comes from the hall. “Out here, Asa. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one freakin’ out right now.” His long-lost brother moves to the doorway.
A shudder runs through Asa. “They told me it might be a possibility…” he says, “but I guess I just didn’t believe it.”
“You probably figured like I did—what the hell are the chances?”
“Then again, our name isn’t very common.”
“Wow,” Asa says, struggling to stand and waving off my help. “I think I’m still in shock.”
I shepherd him out of the room. “Let’s get you two a place to sit down.”
Paul mutters in the background, “Yeah, before another one falls down.”
“Enough, Paul,” I say. “Need we remind you of all your weak points since you turned?”
Picturing the last time Paul screamed like a girl and ran out of the room, I smile to myself. And that was just last week.
I walk past his brother, motioning for both of them to follow me. They walk side by side, each of them in their own cloud of shock and disbelief.
“How about the dining room?” I ask. “It should be empty this time of day.”
They trail along behind and stand at the table closest to the kitchen, near the back left corner. I slip behind the counter and grab two mugs, glancing their way to make sure they’ve taken a seat. “How about I whip you both up something to drink?”
Asa extends a hand in greeting, then seems to think better of it and drags the awkward man into a hug. “I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes.”
“It’s really you?” Justin asks. “You remember me and growing up in West Milford, New Jersey?”
They sit at the table, the chaotic energy swirling around them almost palpable. “Of course, man. I’m older but not that old.”
“Jesus,” Justin says. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you. This is insane.”
“How long has it been?” Asa asks.
“This winter will be sixteen years, right?”
I gather the fixings for hot cocoa, and a bag of blood to spike Asa’s mug. I’m sure they could both use the sugar right about now.
“Yeah, I think,” he answers. “So, where did you guys go after Jersey?”
Justin’s face twists at the memory. “We bounced around quite a bit for the first six months, traveled mostly in the South, lived in the car if we didn’t have money for a place to stay. It was hell until mom secured a job out of the country. We moved to Argentina in late spring and the rest is…”
“History?” Asa says with a wry grin.
His brother smiles back, but on his face, it’s more of a sardonic grin. “I was going to say complicated and mostly uneventful. It was what it was, you know? Mom was consumed by hate and unhappiness. It was all I could do to keep her on track and responsible. She would have easily slipped into a dark depression by herself.”
“You’re using past tense when talking about mom—is she gone?”
He nods, some of the good cheer leaving his expression. “She died in a house fire.”
“Oh.” Asa jerks in the chair, seeming off balance at the news.
Justin continues on, unfazed by the topic of their mother’s death. “Where did you go after we took off?”
“We never left. Moved to a new house, but always stayed in New Jersey.”
A look I can’t decipher crosses Justin’s expression, but clears in a moment to leave a slight smile. “I never knew. Seems unreal. I—” He hesitates and looks down, his smile fading. “If she wasn’t already dead, I’d be so angry at mom right now. You all stayed in Jersey and she made me feel like we could never locate you, like she’d tried and dad took you away or something.”
“But she took you away from us, that makes no sense.”
“Yeah, in hindsight, sure. But at the time, she painted a very compelling picture with her words, convincing me the three of you left at the same time and we’d have to save money to hire someone to find you.”
Asa shakes his head, anger building and then fizzling out just as quickly. “That sounds like something she’d do,” he says, trying careful to sound neutral. “I’m only sorry that I never tried to find you when I turned eighteen.”
“Same here,” he says.
“How did Mom die?”
“The official report is an accidental fire, but I’ve never been so sure.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
“I think she was developing a spell that skirted the line between light and dark a little too close—meaning she shouldn’t have attempted it—and the spell backfired on her.”
“Whoa. So Mom was a witch? I thought that Wiccan stuff she practiced was safe and non-threatening.”
Justin shifts in his chair and glances out the window and then back toward Asa.
“She wasn’t a witch. But I do think her eventual exposure to magic was a direct result of her being open to Wiccan philosophies.”
“If she wasn’t a witch, then how did she do magic?”
“Haven’t they told
you why I’m here?” Justin asks.
A smile curves Asa’s lips. “You haven’t had much exposure to Vivian and Rafe yet, but you’ll see they don’t always reveal all the details to everyone. All I know is you’re here to beef up security in ways that I can’t. But what more could you do that I can’t? Not that I would mind the help, just curious.”
“Well, remember how I said Mom practiced magic? She taught me, too. You can learn the craft even if you’re not born a witch, but doing so requires a different approach. Anyone not born a witch, but still able to do magic through spells, rituals, and ingredients is called a wizard, or warlock, depending on what you prefer to be called.
“I’m here to set up security wards around the resort’s perimeter.” He glances at me behind the counter, prepping their drinks, but doesn’t elaborate further on what he’ll be doing with me. “They’ll be triggered when anything crosses over the property line that intends the inn or its inhabitants harm.”
Intrigued by the idea, Asa leans forward in his seat. “Interesting. Could I use the same skills to protect the inn? Is it something you could show me?”
Justin hesitates. “I think that’s something you’d need to discuss with Rafe. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
I approach the table and places two mugs in front of the boys. Sliding one closer to Justin I say, “Hot coco, plenty of sugar, which is good for a shock.” The next I push toward Asa, “Ditto for you, but with bagged blood mixed in, too.”
Justin looks at Asa curiously, so he leans in and takes the mug, drawing long and deep from the sugary-bloody goodness. I silently retreat behind the counter and fill a mug for myself from a waiting carafe.
“Damn,” Justin says. “It’s really true then, huh?”
A bark of laughter escapes Asa. “You caught on to the vampire thing already?”
Justin shrugs in nonchalance. “I worked with the Tribunal in Argentina. Kind of get used to looking for the signs. Pale skin, no recent tan, even in the summer, we’re meeting at night... should I go on?”
Sharpen the Blade (The V V Inn Book 6) Page 11