by Gary Jonas
I gave him a smile. “You know the old adage that says those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach?”
He nodded and grinned.
“I’m the exception to that rule.”
“Bold words. There are three of us.”
“Class,” I said, “this gentleman, and I use the term loosely, is gearing up to attack. His friends are going to join the fray. Beatrice, I want you to pay close attention. These are bad men and they are going to try to hit me.”
“Try?” the man asked.
It should have been a clue.
“You’re right. It would be a mistake to have you miss on the first punch. Beatrice needs to know I can take it. I’ll give you one free shot at me before I take you apart.”
“Right.”
“You heard me. If you want Chantelle, come and take her.”
The man attacked.
He launched himself at me with incredible speed. I let him punch me with all his strength. His fist slammed into my chin, but I didn’t budge and the bones in his hand shattered. I smiled at him.
“See, Beatrice? I can take a punch.”
The man shook his hand, but then tried to hit me with his left. I ducked his punch, swept his feet out from under him so he hit the mat hard. I took two steps, leaped into the air, spun around and kicked the other two men before they could unfold their arms. I caught one in the face, and the other in the chest. Both staggered back. I landed on one foot, whipped around and kicked the closer man in the throat. He dropped like a bag of bricks. I snap-kicked the other man under the chin. He flipped over backward, hit the mat and didn’t move.
The first man was just getting to his feet.
The women in the bleachers clapped, and smiled. Beatrice still fidgeted and wore a concerned look.
“As you’ll note,” I said to my class, but focused on Beatrice, “I took out his backup men. Shall we see if the leader has big enough balls to try again knowing how hopelessly outclassed he is?”
“You talk too much,” the man said.
He faced me, but didn’t rush it this time. Instead, he circled, looking for an opportunity.
I tossed him another smile and let my hands drop to my sides, leaving myself open for attack. “The wolf just realized it chose to face off with an apex predator,” I said. “My guard is down, and he still doesn’t come closer. He’s looking for a way to back down without losing face, but he also knows that he rudely interrupted my class, and as such, he’s in for a beat down.”
He started to back away toward his fallen men. “Jack? Darrell?”
“They’re still alive,” I said. “You were right, of course. This is a teaching moment. I’m going to punch you in the nose, and to quote a movie a departed friend of mine liked, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
He knew it was coming. He tried to block it. He was supernaturally fast.
I was faster.
His nose broke. His head snapped back and he blinked a few times, stunned.
“How did Billy Jack put it?” I said. “With this foot, I’m going to kick you right here.” I pointed to the side of his head. Then I kicked him there with my bare foot.
Again, he tried to block it.
I was too fast for him.
My foot smacked the side of his head and he went down hard.
My students cheered, and even Beatrice jumped to her feet, though her eyes remained wide. She kept her shoulders hunched and her hands balled up close to her waist.
One of the tattooed musclemen pushed himself up and shook his head.
I padded over. “Is your head ringing?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You probably have a concussion. Your friends will definitely have concussions. Are you Jack or Darrell?”
“Jack.” He got to his hands and knees, and hesitated before looking up at me. One hand came up in case I was going to hit him again. “Pavlenco will send others,” he said.
“Tell him if he wants to have a little chat, he can come see me himself. If you or either of your buddies come back here, I will kill you on sight. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Take your friends and go. Tell Pavlenco to never interrupt one of my classes again.”
I turned my back on him and returned to the bleachers. I looked at Beatrice for a moment. She smiled, and looked around at the other women, who cheered and clapped. I swept my gaze over the rest of my students. “Remember, class, when you face off with me, I want you to hit me, but in your case, I won’t hit back.”
They laughed and shouted for the men to get the hell out. Jack glared at them, but one look from me kept him in line. He revived his buddies and helped them leave the dojo.
“Shall we get started?” I asked.
CHAPTER FIVE
Every Dracula has his Renfield, and Pavlenco’s was named Windsor. He called me to set up a meeting and I accepted.
Geoffrey Windsor wore a tailored suit and an ascot. His polished shoes glistened as he strode across the coffee shop floor. His gray hair was slicked back with precision, and his pencil-thin mustache looked waxed. He removed his round-lens glasses, wiped them with a soft handkerchief, and slid them back on his face before looking around.
Amanda, Chantelle, and I sat at a small table in the little coffee shop on Pearl Street. The other patrons looked to be college-age hipsters.
I sipped my chai and nodded toward Windsor. “I’m betting it’s the guy with glasses,” I said. Amanda had been trying to guess which man would serve a vampire, and had been wrong every time. The shop did steady business, though most customers popped in, got a coffee, and left. There were only a few tables for people to linger, and we’d had our spot for an hour before Windsor put in an appearance. We’d intentionally arrived early. In that hour, Amanda guessed fifteen different men as Windsor, but as soon as she saw him, she knew I was right.
“Those are spectacles,” Amanda said.
“What’s the difference?”
“Price. Anything that costs more than five hundred bucks needs a longer word as a descriptor.”
Chantelle hadn’t touched her latte. She looked at Windsor and brightened. “Geoffrey!” she said. “Over here.”
He gave her a nod, and headed in our direction. He walked with purpose and didn’t look at the people seated around the other tables. They were beneath his notice.
“Chantelle,” he said when he reached our table. He gave her a slight bow. “Delightful to see you.”
“You too,” she said. “Is Victor upset?”
“I should say so,” Geoffrey said. He turned toward me. “I gather you’re Kelly Chan.”
I nodded.
He extended a hand. “Geoffrey Windsor, at your service.”
I didn’t take his hand.
“Right then,” he said and smoothed out his suit jacket. “May I join you?”
I nodded toward the chair. It kept his back to the entrance, which was not a place I would choose, but he didn’t even glance back or look for exits. He didn’t care. He was either overly confident or as oblivious as most people.
“Quite right,” he said and sat down. He steepled his hands with his elbows on the table, extending his index fingers toward the ceiling. He leaned forward and tapped his lips. “My employer has authorized me to discuss terms with you.”
“So I don’t even get a hello?” Amanda asked, miffed.
“No offense, my dear, but you are a mere witch.” His eyes twinkled at her reaction. “You should count yourself fortunate that my employer allowed you to attend this meeting.”
“I never!” Amanda said.
“If you’ll pardon my lack of sympathy, I’d like to speak to the warrior.”
“You have my attention,” I said.
Amanda glared at him.
He didn’t seem to notice. “You put Darrell in the hospital, and you broke Martin’s nose.”
“I never got his name,” I said.
“Yes, well, he
thinks the encounter would have gone differently in a room full of shadows.”
“His delusions cost me nothing,” I said. My eyes shifted to the door where an attractive man in his mid-thirties stepped into the shop. He wore a brown leather jacket and sunglasses. He removed his sunglasses, met and held my eyes for a moment. He grinned and nodded at me, then approached the counter. My heart did a little stutter-step, which surprised me. Windsor was talking, so I returned my attention to him.
“I suspected you’d see it that way,” he said.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Amanda said, staring at leather jacket man.
Chantelle turned to look as well, but returned her attention to Geoffrey and me.
“Professionalism, Amanda,” I said. “Mr. Windsor, as I told you on the phone, I have no intention of letting Pavlenco take Chantelle back against her will.”
“He won’t take her against her will. He doesn’t operate in such a low-class manner.”
“Vampires have hypnotic power, right?”
“Only in motion pictures. My employer is in love with Miss West. He is distraught at her absence. He wants only to speak with her in person. Let her determine whether she wishes to be with him or on her own.”
“But he refused to attend the meeting,” I said.
“It’s two in the afternoon,” Windsor said.
“So?”
“My employer will gladly make your acquaintance, but not in the daytime.”
“So the night thing is accurate with vampires.”
“I’m not here to educate you on common knowledge, Ms. Chan. But yes, vampires would do well to avoid direct sunlight. It tends to set them on fire.”
“And that would be bad?”
“Indeed. I assure you, Miss West will be quite safe with me, and my employer will see to it that no harm comes to her.”
I looked at Chantelle. “Do you want to go back to Pavlenco?”
“I don’t know,” Chantelle said.
“What assurances do you require, my dear?” Windsor asked.
“I want to be human.”
He shrugged. “You should have thought of that before.”
“Victor hasn’t killed anyone in years,” Chantelle said. “Why would he expect me to kill?”
“Survival.”
I tapped the table. “This is news to me. What exactly are you talking about?”
“I told you, I don’t want to kill anyone,” Chantelle said.
“For blood.”
She nodded.
“So don’t kill anyone.”
“And we’re back to common knowledge,” Windsor said.
“Like common sense, it isn’t as common as you think,” I said.
“The first feed,” Windsor said. “It’s impossible to stop drinking until you’ve drained the victim.”
“I refused to drink,” Chantelle said.
“Which is remarkable,” Windsor said. “I’m not aware of anyone who managed to resist the hunger of the first feed. You must be in constant agony.”
“I tried to be a fashion model,” Chantelle said. “I’m used to starving.”
“There’s more to it,” Windsor said.
She shrugged.
“Regardless,” Windsor said, “you will feed at some point, and the first feed must be from a living person. You need to be with Victor when that happens. And for the next few feedings beyond that so you can learn control.”
“If I agree to go with him, will he trust me?”
“He trusts you now or he would not have offered you eternity.”
“I don’t even know where we live,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We always travel in a limousine, and the windows are so dark, I can’t even tell you what part of town I live in.”
“But you escaped.”
“From the basement of a nightclub that burned down. The Deadbeat Club.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I said, “but I thought it had a different name now.”
“Victor called it the Deadbeat Club, so that’s how I know it.”
“He turned you at a nightclub?”
“Easy access to a victim for me to kill. I couldn’t do it.”
“And we all remain impressed,” Windsor said. “Be that as it may, we still need to negotiate an amiable compromise here. Victor cannot in good conscience allow you to walk the streets with a growing hunger.”
“He didn’t care that she’d kill someone at the club,” I said.
“Not an innocent,” Windsor said.
“So people who go to a nightclub deserve to die?” Amanda asked.
“You merely assumed that by easy access I meant a young person at the club. I did not.”
“So what’s the deal?” Amanda asked.
“None of your concern,” Windsor said. “I do not wish to waste my time discussing matters with a witch, so if you interrupt again, I’ll simply kill Miss West and tell Victor we could not reach an accord.”
“That’s fine with me,” Chantelle said. “I don’t want to live.”
This conversation was going off the rails. “Can we please just deal with this in a rational fashion?” I asked. “Amanda, keep your mouth closed. Chantelle, stop trying to end your life. Mr. Windsor, talk to me or to Chantelle. Let me lay this out for you. I don’t like you, but you represent Pavlenco so I’ll deal with you. Amanda here hired me to protect Chantelle from others and from herself.”
“Why?” Windsor asked.
“None of your concern,” Amanda said.
“Amanda, stop,” I said. I turned to Windsor. “None of your concern.” I smiled. “Now, let’s keep this very simple. You want to take Chantelle back to Pavlenco. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Convince me.”
“You’re a warrior doing a job,” Windsor said. “I’d be happy to pay you and reimburse the witch for any expenses incurred, though I fail to see the logic in you wanting anything to do with Miss West.”
“Logic doesn’t enter that side of the equation,” I said. “I don’t like it when a battered woman shows up. I see it as a mission to help because I care. That’s all you need to know about it. Chantelle showed up with a black eye. She said Pavlenco is not the one who hit her, and I don’t think you could bruise an apple.”
“You underestimate me, Ms. Chan.”
“That thought crossed my mind too,” I said. “You walked in here without a care in the world. That means you’re either confident or oblivious.”
His mouth twitched, and I realized that was about as close to a smile as he was capable. “Go on,” he said.
“You just matter-of-factly talked about killing Chantelle in front of me, and you know I’m a Sekutar. That tells me you’re not oblivious. You’re a Watcher.”
He nodded. “Lead Watcher,” he said.
“One of your underlings hit her.”
He hesitated a moment then said, “He has been disciplined. It will not happen again.”
“In that case, as far as I’m concerned this comes down to what Chantelle wants.”
“May I address her?” Windsor asked.
“I’ll allow it,” I said.
His mouth twitched again. “I like you,” he said.
“I’d be the luckiest girl in town if that did it for me,” I said.
He turned to Chantelle. “Will you come back to Victor?”
Chantelle looked around the coffee shop then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I want to,” she said. “But I don’t want to kill anyone, and I don’t want to be a vampire. Is there a way around that?”
He shook his head but then stopped and reconsidered. Finally, he said, “I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked.
“It is not for me to say,” Windsor said. “Victor will have to be updated so he can make a decision. He will need additional information in order to make an informed decision, however.”
“What does he need to know?” I asked.
Windsor ignored me and
looked at Chantelle. “You realize I could take you from this place and no one could stop me. Right?”
“I’ll stop you,” I said.
His head snapped in my direction. “You, my dear, are overconfident in your abilities. When I say I can take Miss West and you won’t be able to stop me, you need to accept that as a fact. As you noted, I am not oblivious.”
“But you still like to puff up to try and seem important,” I said. “You can’t even make a simple decision without approval. You’re a slave to a bloodsucking freak.”
“You would do well to not insult me, Miss Chan.”
I noted that he went from Ms. to Miss as a way to insult me. It didn’t work because I couldn’t care less whether someone called me Ms. or Miss.
“Just ask your questions, Mr. Pufferfish.”
He frowned. He was good at it. I could tell he wanted to say more.
He drew a deep breath, focused on Chantelle, and said, “I have only one real question. Do you love Victor?”
Chantelle nodded. “I do.”
Windsor looked at me for a moment then slid a magnetic ceramic business card across the table. It was blank except for a telephone number with a 310 area code. Los Angeles. “Get in touch with Mr. Pavlenco after sundown. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make use of the facilities.”
He rose, and walked to the men’s room. I slipped the magnet into my back pocket then turned to watch him. He didn’t look back. He pushed open the door, reached over to turn out the light and disappeared into darkness before the door swung closed.
“What an asshole,” Amanda said. Then she smiled, “And what a hunk of man flesh.”
I looked at her, confused.
“Not Windsor,” she said and kept her eyes on the attractive man in the leather jacket who walked across the shop in our direction. “Him.”
He walked past us without glancing in our direction, and pushed into the restroom. He clicked the light on and closed the door.
“He doesn’t even know you exist,” I said.
“That’s a crime,” she said. “Perhaps I should go introduce myself.”
“In the restroom?”
“I’ll wait until he comes out.”
“Whatever. I’m taking Chantelle back to the dojo.”
Amanda kept staring at the door to the men’s room for a moment then shook her head. “You’re right. We should go. I wouldn’t want to seem desperate or crazy.”