by J. J. Bonds
It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be moved from Nik’s class. I’m surprised to discover that I’m actually disappointed by this news. At least he’d agreed to continue the one-on-one sessions. I reason that I’ll have the best of both worlds. I’ll have the opportunity to spar with other partners in class while getting individual instruction from Nik in the evenings. It should allow me to accelerate my training even more. And that’s what matters most, isn’t it?
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask joining him at the back wall. See? Just push all that other crap aside and focus on what really matters: training. “I’m getting tired of sparring. Can we move on to something else? Maybe mix it up a little?”
“Tired of getting beat?” he teases with his ‘I know how good I look with my dark hair falling over my eyes’ smile.
He’s kidding, but it still burns a little. I refuse to let him bait me today. “I’d like to try the crossbow.”
“Solid choice.” At least he approves of my taste in weaponry. “Have you shot one before?”
“Nope.” I resist the urge to tell him that, if I knew how to use it, I obviously wouldn’t need him.
“You’re going to love this.” He selects a crossbow from the wall and hands it to me. It’s not what I’d expected. It’s far more modern than I had imagined. The metal shaft is cool on my hands, and I note that it’s got some weight to it. The shape is similar to a rifle and it has even got a scope mount for accuracy. Across the stock there is a bow that stretches horizontally in both directions. I estimate it’s a foot and a half wide. It looks and feels powerful. I would be willing to bet the crossbow is military grade. I can’t wait to shoot it.
“This is a VSE Z9 tactical assault weapon. It’s not easy to come by, but it’s a favorite of the Linkuri. It’s reliable, powerful, and deadly accurate. VSE has made some impressive enhancements to this model. It can shoot a bolt over 400 feet per second and expels better than 153 pounds of kinetic energy. But the best part is the reload.”
“Why’s that?” He might as well be speaking gibberish. I know zip about this type of weapon. Nik, on the other hand, is clearly an expert. Big surprise. He’s excited though, and that’s got my attention.
“This baby doesn’t require manual cocking. In a traditional crossbow you have to reset the bows’ tension and reload after every shot. It’s time consuming and would otherwise be prohibitive to making the crossbow a combat weapon. This model overcomes that little caveat.” His eyes are glowing with exhilaration. I can’t help but smile. I feel the same way about this beautiful piece of equipment.
“The Z9 has a wicked fast motor that will reload automatically with the press of a button.” He points to a small red switch that protrudes from the shaft of the weapon, just above the trigger. “Once you pull the trigger, press here, and the bow will be cocked again and reloaded. The VSE Z9 holds nine projectiles; eight in the wings and one in the track.” He barely pauses. “Ready to try it out?”
“Most definitely.” I grudgingly hand him the weapon so that he can show me how to load the arrow properly. After a quick demonstration, he raises the bow to his shoulder and slides his guide hand down to the nose for better aim. I pay close attention to his stance and keep my attention focused on him, even as the arrow is released. I know without looking that he’s hit the target 50 yards down the range; probably a bull’s eye judging by the satisfied look on his face.
“Your turn.” He hands me the bow, and I do my best to repeat his movements from just moments ago. I raise the butt of the bow to my shoulder and peer into the sight. I pull the trigger and send an arrow of my own flying down range and into the target. It’s not exactly a direct hit, but I’ve made contact. I flip the switch and brace myself for a second shot. I unload the remaining six arrows. My accuracy improves with practice. Nik gives me pointers to help sharpen my form, and it seems to help my aim as well. He’s a great teacher and this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks! I love the feel of this weapon.
I turn to Nik as I reload. “So what kind of damage could a weapon like this do?” The meaning is implied. Could it kill a vampire or is it just for sport?
“At best it’s lethal, at worst it’ll buy you some time. A direct hit to center mass would slow your attacker down. The force of penetration would be enough to stop a bear with the right ammunition. Or a vampire.”
I finish reloading and turn my attention back to the target. Niks’s replaced the bull’s eye with a human form. He’s even drawn fangs on it for fun. “Nice,” I comment, as I raise my weapon. I peer through the sight wanting to make the most of each and every shot. Nik wanders off toward the armory. I rattle off my shots, and he’s back before I can reload again.
“Here. Try these.” He hands me a new type of projectile. These new ones are made of metal.
“What are these?” I ask. I don’t know what to make of them. They’re like arrows, but a little shorter and squatter. They seem sturdier, but I wonder if they’ll fly as fast due to their bulk.
“Bolts,” he says, casually hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Well, modified bolts. The arrows are good for target practice. They’re cheap and accurate, but for battle I’d recommend these. Another Linkuri special. Annihilators.”
Intrigued, I delicately load the bolts into the crossbow. I don’t waste any time shooting them off. The results are much different this time. The target is obliterated. Instead of a series of tightly clustered puncture marks, most of the target has been wiped out leaving an enormous gaping hole.
“What happened?” I ask mystified.
Nik strides down the range and collects the ruined projectiles. Some have stuck in the wall while others have been expelled and lay on the floor in ruins. He returns open handed and shows me the damaged bolts. “They expand on impact,” he explains. “There are four sharp blades contained in each. Once the tip hits a pressure point, the razors emerge shredding everything in their path. A direct hit to the brain or heart would put your adversary down. No question.”
I don’t want to be morbid, but I want him to elaborate. Does he mean it would put them down as in dead or put them down as in slowed for the death blow? I recall from Anatomy that removing the head or the heart is the only way to truly stop a vampire, short of a few searing hours under a UV lamp. Perhaps it’s best not to dwell on such things. I have a long way to go before I have to worry about defending my life, right?
“Solid,” I return finally, echoing his words from earlier in the session. I reluctantly hand over the crossbow. I feel naked giving it up. We’ve only practiced for a short time, but it felt so natural. I have got to get a Z9 of my own.
“We’ve still got some time before curfew,” Nik tells me, checking his watch. “You up for a little hand-to-hand?”
“Why not? I could stand to burn off a little more energy.” Better to stay here and maybe get my butt kicked by Nik than to go back to my room where I’ll be alone with my dreams.
We clean up the range and hit the mat. The place is pretty well deserted now, but it doesn’t matter. The awkwardness between us has passed. We square up and face off. I’m determined not to yield to him tonight. I don’t care if he rips my arms from the sockets. I’m not giving up.
I attack, a battle cry erupting from my throat. I catch Nik with a side kick and follow it up with a spinning back fist. For my trouble I get chop to the midsection. I double over in agony. Nik drops to the ground and swings his leg wide, sweeping my feet out from under me. I slam into the mat landing on my side, a vicious reminder that there is no time to rest or recover. In one fluid motion he’s back on his feet in a defensive position. I roll over quickly, crouching on my hands and feet. I spring forward, once again on the attack. Nik is able to block my punch easily. I retreat a few feet, again crouching low and making myself as small as possible. I hope Nik will find a smaller target more difficult to strike.
This strategy works to my advantage. Nik misjudges his next kick, and I’m able to intercept his leg
, flipping him backward onto the mat. Nik’s no slouch though, and he returns the favor, throwing me over his head and rolling on top of me. He pins my body to the mat with his own, the hard muscles of his body pressing into mine. I struggle unsuccessfully to free myself but his powerful hands bind my wrists over my head. He presses them hard into the mat as he stares into my eyes.
And there it is. The awkwardness between us comes roaring back with a vengeance. In the span of a heartbeat the entire mood of the gym has shifted. Our friendly rivalry is gone and in its place emerges a lustful tension that won’t be ignored. Hell’s bells! Apparently Nik was just waiting for the right time to make another move.
The heat of his gaze burns through me like wildfire and it’s a wonder I don’t melt right there on the floor beneath him. There’s nothing cold about the crystalline blue eyes locked on my lips and I feel myself getting pulled into the delicate planes of his face. I want nothing more at this moment than to run my hands through the dark, sexy curls spilling over his forehead as the all too familiar scent of lavender and spice overwhelm my senses.
Nik releases my left hand first, his own hand slowly gliding down the soft flesh of my arm and up onto my cheek, caressing it gently. My body trembles at his touch, but if he notices, he gives no indication. Nik’s every move is seductive. By the time his lips brush mine I’m desperate for his kiss, my body charged like a live wire.
His lips devour me. The kiss is rough. There is no sign of the gentleness that was there on New Year’s Eve as he forces my mouth open, his tongue slipping past my lips. My body responds to him, hungry for more. His kiss awakens a passion that’s lain dormant too long. As his body shifts forcing my knees apart, I realize that I want this moment to last. The feel of his body against mine, the closeness, is comforting and empowering at the same time. His desire excites me. And angers me. Who does he think he is? And what the hell am I doing? I jerk my right hand free and shove him off of my body. We both sit up, and, before he can utter a single word, I slap him across the face as hard as I can. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me dumbfounded.
He doesn’t look angry. Just hurt. Maybe confused. Good! Now he knows how I feel. I climb to my feet, and he starts to laugh. I whirl around and glare at him for all I’m worth.
“That’s what I love about you, Katia!” He’s still laughing. I don’t see what’s so funny. “You’re full of surprises!”
Chapter Nineteen
It feels like I’m losing my grip on reality. The nightmares continue to plague my sleep, making it impossible to get a decent night’s rest. When I’m awake the exhaustion is so deep that my mind is constantly in a hazy fog. The incident with my laptop still worries me. I live with a feeling of foreboding, like something terrible is looming on the horizon just out of sight.
I’ve been blowing off Shaye and Nik for weeks. I can’t stand to be around them: Nik because he wants something I’m not equipped to give; Shaye because I know she has enough problems of her own without worrying about mine. The only people I can talk to are Anya and Aldo. And both of them have more questions than answers for me.
I stand in front of the mirror debating the merits of skipping my session with Anya. The haunted face that stares back at me is washed out and looks more zombie than vampire. My eyes are tired, and my chestnut hair hangs limply over my shoulders. I bare my teeth just to confirm that my fangs are still there. I poke them with my fingers and relief washes over me. They’re as sharp as ever. At least some things are as they should be.
“Better go,” I tell myself. Anya will worry if I don’t show up. I pull on my boots and head for her office. There was a time when I really wouldn’t have cared about her feelings, but I’m starting to appreciate her more, and I don’t want our relationship to start deteriorating again.
“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her, as I enter without knocking. I figure we’re beyond knocking now.
“Don’t worry about it,” she whispers, covering the mouthpiece on her desk phone and waving me into a chair. She holds up her hand to indicate she’ll only be another minute. Oops! Maybe I should have knocked after all. I sit down across from Anya and stare idly out the window while she wraps up her call. It sounds like school business.
“I appreciate the warning. Keep us posted on the progress. If anything—and I mean anything—breaks tonight, call me. It doesn’t matter what time. We need to be prepared for the worst.” I can’t hear the reply of the other individual, but I’m intrigued by Anya’s statement. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good. Anya’s usually pleasant face is grim tonight. Her lips are tightly drawn, and her eyes are wary. She taps her fingers on the desk blotter anxiously as she listens.
“Thank you. I’ll let Headmaster Pratt know. I imagine it will be all over the news tomorrow anyway.” She pauses before continuing, her tone grave. “Stay close to this one. I don’t have a good feeling about it.” She hangs up the phone without saying goodbye and spins her chair to face me straight on. “Would you like a drink? I’m famished.”
“Sure,” I reply. These days I can’t seem to feed enough. “Nothing too fresh though,” I warn her.
“Duly noted.” She rises from her desk and fiddles around in the bar that lines the back wall. From the wood paneled fridge, she pulls a large pouch of blood. She twists off the airlock and pours it evenly into two glasses. She offers me the first before returning to her seat. We drink in silence. I can see that Anya is still distracted by the phone call. I want to ask her about it, but I’ve learned enough living with Aldo to know that she won’t tell me about it, even if I’m bold enough to inquire. If I’m meant to know, I won’t have to ask.
“The world is an ugly place sometimes.”
“I know.” She doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve seen it first-hand. I’ve been told that the good outweighs the bad in this world, but I have trouble believing it. Frankly, that hasn’t been my experience. I’ve learned it’s better to steel myself to the outside.
“Aldo would do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course. And I would do anything for him. We’re family. He’s the only family I have now.”
“Sometimes when we try to protect those around us, we’re blinded by love. Objectivity becomes… difficult,” she says carefully. Anya sighs deeply and leans back in her chair, crossing her legs. Today she’s wearing red snakeskin stilettos. “Take that necklace you wear, for example.” My hand jumps protectively to the pendant around my neck. “To you the bloodstone is a symbol of Aldo’s love, of family, of his benevolence. To him it’s a reminder of the sister he lost. That bloodstone is a reminder of second chances—of redemption.”
Why is she bringing this up now? What is she trying to say? “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with anything? I came here tonight to talk about the nightmares.”
“I know.”
What the hell does that mean? “I need to know why this is happening to me. I need to know how to make it stop.” I stomp my foot in frustration. Why is Anya being so cryptic? It reminds me of Aldo. “Look at me. I can’t go on like this much longer.”
“Open your eyes, Katia. The answers you seek are right in front of you. Stop fighting it and accept that there are things in this world you can’t touch and feel and explain with scientific logic. It doesn’t make them any less real.”
**********
I’m sitting in Sociology feeling better than I’ve felt in months. Despite the disturbing conversation with Anya last night, I slept like a baby. No nightmares, no tossing, no turning. I actually feel refreshed. Spring is in the air, and I welcome the changing of the season. The sun is shining, and the grounds are coming to life outside. Soon the flowers will push up through the ground, and the forest will be filled with the sounds of wildlife.
Professor Lynch’s lecture on coven mentality is interrupted by the message alert on his computer. “Hold that thought,” he instructs the class.
The room erupts in chatter, most of the students thank
ful for a quick break while Lynch reads his messages. I sneak a quick peek in Nik’s direction and catch him staring at me. We’ve barely spoken since the night in the training center when he kissed me. My heart rate speeds up just thinking about it. He looks good. He’s grown his hair a little longer, and he’s wearing a fitted shirt that shows off his muscular torso. I study the lean muscles of his back and wonder if things will ever go back to normal. I’d like to resume training, but I’m not sure what to say. I’ve rebuked all of his attempts to apologize.
“All right class. Listen up!” Lynch claps his hands together and calls us back to attention abruptly. I tear my eyes away from Nik. I’m the first to look away, and as Lynch speaks I can still feel Nik’s eyes on me. I try to pretend I’m focused solely on the professor. “Headmaster Pratt has called a mandatory assembly in the dining hall. Attendance is required for all students, faculty, and staff. The assembly starts in ten minutes. We’ll break for today but don’t forget about tonight’s assignment. I expect those papers on my desk first thing in the morning. Dismissed!”
We funnel out of the classroom and collectively head for the dining hall. Nik falls in step next to me, Blaine at his side. “This is highly unusual,” he comments to no one in particular. Blaine and I both stare straight ahead, neither of us sure who he’s talking to, neither of us willing to be sucked into a conversation together. “In all the years I’ve been here, Pratt’s never done anything like this. Cancelling class for an assembly? It must be something big.” He’s excited. A lot of the students are. The halls around us are filled with speculation. These are the people who know only good, I think. The ones like me, the ones who’ve known pain, know enough to be worried about such an unusual event.
“It won’t be good,” I murmur, remembering Anya’s phone call from the night before. They both turn to stare at me with questioning expressions. I can’t tell if they’re surprised that I responded or if it’s my foreboding warning that warrants the disbelieving looks.