by Angie Martin
“We’ve only done two miles,” Keira said, laughing at me. “We’ve got three more to go, but I’ll make it four if you don’t quit asking.”
I groaned, but kept my speed up to match hers. As if I had something to prove – more to myself than anyone else – I would keep going until we either finished the full five miles or I passed out. That would be the only way I’d quit. With my first mission merely days away, I had no choice but to get in shape fast if I wanted to stay alive. No more brownie thighs and cotton candy midriff for this sweets junkie.
We rounded the corner, and I peeked out at the gym to see two men sparring without protective gear. Keira stopped running, and I did as well. I swallowed hard as I recognized the men as Mr. Smith and Garrett – both shirtless. I averted my gaze and prayed Keira would immediately start running again. Instead, she wandered into the gym, toward a bench near the men.
“Can’t we finish our run?” I asked. “I really want to get to the library.”
“I love it when they spar,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.” She glanced at my face and said, “Heating up from the run?”
The crimson coating my skin seemed to boil, even more so when she pointed it out. I didn’t want to see Mr. Smith without a shirt. It was Mr. Smith. Just this… thing I had to deal with occasionally. Nothing more to see there.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. I motioned to the track. “Come on. Let’s finish this thing.”
“I think it’s more beneficial for you to watch this sparring. Then, we can get back to running. Nothing wrong with taking a break, and you might learn something.” She winked at me.
I hated her in that moment, as friends often do. But, despite knowing her motives weren’t only for me to learn by watching, I followed her to the bench. Once settled on the hard wood, which dug into my tailbone in a most uncomfortable manner, I leaned over with my elbows on my knees. Lowering my head, I watched sweat drip from my forehead onto the floor. Anything to avoid looking at Mr. Smith.
“You won’t learn anything if you don’t watch,” she said.
Frustrated, I looked up to get her to stop talking. Keira was much more intuitive than I wanted to give her credit for, and I didn’t want her to say anything more about me and Mr. Smith. I didn’t even want to hear our names in the same conversation.
As the men traded punches, I glanced down Mr. Smith’s body, purely unintentionally, and caught sight of the tattoo. Black ink sprawled across his side and ribs. I couldn’t make out the image, but it seemed to be a symbol of sorts.
“What’s the tattoo?” I asked Keira.
“Ah,” she said. “The tattoo of shame.”
I perked up with curiosity. “Sounds like a good story.”
“Garrett has the same one, but it’s on his right side, which is why you can’t see it too well. When their marks came in, Garrett and Spence were called to be night stalkers, they decided to get a couple fake IDs and get tattoos to commemorate it. Can you translate the tattoo?”
I squinted and stared at Mr. Smith’s side, his muscles contracting under the ink. He moved a bit, giving me a glimpse of the rest of the tattoo. “It’s a night stalker symbol.”
Keira smiled. “You are good. It’s the official symbol of The Order of the Night Stalker.”
“That’s not something I’d think they’d be allowed to get tattooed.”
“You’re right. When their parents discovered it, the high council had a nightmare on their hands. They were called to headquarters to answer to the council.”
“They must have been horrified.”
“Some council members wanted them completely removed from the ranks and kicked out of the complex, but because Spence and Garrett were still minors, there weren’t many people that could stand the thought of them being homeless. They had no family outside the complex. Plus, their family has a long history in this life. They’re kinda royalty around here. So, instead of banishment, they were sanctioned with heavy workloads for the next year.”
“Why didn’t the council demand the tattoos be removed?”
“They debated that, too, but that would have involved another person to remove them, and there were too many loose ends to clean up already.”
“That’s insane,” I said. “I don’t really see Mr. Smith as a rulebreaker.”
“Those two boys are a disaster together, even as adults, but they’re the best of friends.”
Remembering the story Mr. Smith had told me about the band with the song about the sandman, I asked, “What happened to the tattoo artist?”
“The council arranged it so he closed his business. He’d had an uncle die a few months earlier, one who had no wife or kids. They created a fake insurance policy from a fake company leaving half a million dollars to the tattoo artist. Then, they opened an opportunity for him to get a shop down in Australia.”
“What about his portfolio? Don’t tattoo artists take pictures of great tattoos?”
“Yes, and he did. That’s why just before he started packing to go to Australia, his shop had an unfortunate fire. He lost everything, including his portfolio.”
“Good thing he had that half million dollars then,” I said.
“And, a much better fire insurance policy than he realized. He was set up real nice.”
“I can’t believe how much work goes into keeping monsters and The Order a secret.”
“It’s a constant battle,” Keira said, sighing. “Headquarters has a whole department dedicated to just that. Monitoring people who have been saved from a creature, watching news reports, reading blogs, social media. If they find something, they have to devise a way to make the problem go away without being suspicious.”
A disturbing thought lanced my mind. “They’ve never killed anyone who came out about creatures, have they?”
“No, they would never do that. But, some people need a bit more convincing to keep their mouths shut.” She nudged me with her elbow, then pointed to the guys. “Watch and learn.”
I looked up right as Mr. Smith turned his head and noticed me. I squirmed on the bench, those damned imaginary hives returning. As much as I’d tried to forget it, my ridiculous dream from the night before replayed in my mind.
“Maybe I’ve been trying to deny that I feel anything for you, and that’s not working for me anymore.”
I scratched at my neckline as I recalled his words. In waking hours, they seemed to be more of a nightmare than Dark Man.
“If I tell you in my dream, then I can keep suffocating it when you’re really in front of me.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled. Grimacing, I noticed Keira looking at me from the corner of my eye. I had meant to only think it. I gave her a fake smile and said, “Just ignore me. Having one of those days, I guess.”
“Well, okay then,” she said, and focused back on the men sparring.
“Why don’t they use padding?” I asked.
“They’ve always been like this. Brent, too. They claim it makes the practice more real for them.”
“I bet there’s lots of bruising later.”
“They try not to hit each other too hard, but yeah. Some days, they come out of here looking like they were jumped in a back alley.”
“I get the concept, but still can’t believe they go to those lengths.”
“Yeah, Garrett said that Spence came out of these things with more than one broken nose as a teenager.”
Immediately, I had to search Mr. Smith’s face to see for myself. Sure enough, a small, irregular bump at the bridge of his nose revealed the trauma of at least one break.
Mr. Smith’s fist lashed out toward Garrett, striking him in the jaw with a loud thud.
“Hey, hey, boys,” Keira called out. “Take it down a few notches. Don’t need you guys in medical before this mission.”
“How about you two join us?” Garrett asked. “You’re getting a bit rusty as it is, babe.”
Keira jumped to her feet and rushed to the men. “You wanna see rusty?” She stepped in front of M
r. Smith on the mat, who backed away.
As she jabbed at Garrett with her fists, Mr. Smith walked toward me. I wanted to sink into the bench or find a hidden exit beneath it. If I were quick, maybe my sore body could get to the track before he reached me, and I could disappear in the corridors for at least a half mile.
No such luck.
“Why don’t we have a go?” he asked, standing above me.
“A… what? You mean… oh. Um, well—”
“And, here I thought writers were chock-full of words.”
The most irritating man ever. Human, even. In fact, in that moment, I was willing to bet that no person in future generations could possibly outdo him in the category of annoying.
“Well,” I said, “I wasn’t sure if you were asking me or ordering.”
“Not really much of a difference between the two.”
I reluctantly rose from the bench, though I remained slumped over. Crossing my arms, I said, “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Let’s go over here,” he said, gesturing to the mat behind him.
Arms still folded over my chest, I stood in front of him on the mat. “You do realize I’m barely able to move right now.”
“Just like most people who first get here,” he said. “When you grow up in this life, you’re working out as early as three years old. But, I know that those who are called here aren’t always health nuts.”
“There’s no way I’ll be in shape in time for this mission.”
“No one expects you to be. I just need you as prepared as possible so I can do my job of protecting you. If something happens and I’m detained by a blood seeker, you might be on your own for a few minutes.”
My anxiety level shot up so high so fast that it probably orbited the Earth. “I… I’m not ready to be on my own in any capacity.”
He stepped forward, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I am going to keep you safe. I promise you. But, I still have to try to get you ready.”
I nodded and looked away. My mind hadn’t truly accepted that I would soon face down blood seekers. I silently vowed to do my best to follow every direction he gave and to put my all into these workouts. My survival instinct demanded it.
“What do we do first?”
“You’re always going to try to be on the offensive,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean you falter in defense. Put your arms up and try to spread your legs just enough so you can center your core.”
I lifted my fists, but shifted my unnatural stance several times, trying to find a comfortable position.
Mr. Smith walked behind me and wrapped his arms around me, his hands underneath mine. He arranged my fists. Stepping back, his fingers grazed my outer thighs as he directed me on where to move my legs. He placed his hands on my waist. “Stay tight in your core. This is your center and will keep you in balance. Lower your body just a bit so your legs are bearing more weight.”
“It’s time we’re honest with each other.”
I cringed away from him as bits of my dream assaulted me again, but his body was still much too close to mine. I knew my trembling body shook through his hands to his core. Was it normal to touch someone like this when training them? Outside of Physical Education in high school, which I proudly passed with a C-minus grade, I hadn’t done much in the way of activity. Unless I counted the hours of exercising my carpal tunnel syndrome while pounding away on a keyboard or accelerating the symptoms of arthritis in my right hand while signing books for hours on end.
Of course, before my journey down this rabbit hole, I probably wouldn’t have minded an attractive man showing me how to stand. It would have been the highlight of my year. After my dream last night, however, I didn’t want anyone touching me in any way for any reason – especially not him.
Mr. Smith stood in front of me again and studied me. “Move your right leg an inch to the left.” After I complied, he said, “How does that feel?”
Grateful his hands were no longer on me, I said, “Fine, I guess.”
“You’re cowering.”
I stared at him as if he spoke a foreign language.
“You’re scared,” he said, clarifying for me. “I can sense it, and blood seekers will, too. They’ll take advantage of your fear.”
“I’m not…” I started, then stopped. “Okay, yeah. Last time we did this, you hit me. I don’t think I’m going to be where I need to be by this mission, and I’m a little freaked out about these blood seekers.”
“That’s okay. A bit of fear is healthy and needed, but we have to get you to the point where your fear is minimal. Seeing them in real life for the first time can be terrifying. It’s the smell, more than anything. The death and decay coming from them… it’s hard to explain.”
“I smelled them at the hotel.” I lowered my hands, but kept my legs in the ready position.
“That was nothing,” Mr. Smith said. “When they nest, when there’s more than two of them, it can be overwhelming.”
“How do they manage to get around if they smell so awful?”
“They go out during the night mostly. Daytime is too risky.”
“So, do we hit them when they’re asleep during the day?”
“They don’t sleep. They’re dead inside, so all those humanly functions don’t pertain to them.”
My mind reverted back to my strange dream and the way Dark Man spoke to me. “What about emotion? If they’re dead, do they still have feelings and things like that?”
“If they did, they probably wouldn’t be able to kill like they do, but there’s some sort of loyalty to their nest. That would require some emotion.”
“Okay, you’re freaking me out just a bit more now, so let’s get on to you hitting me or whatever it is we’re doing here. Keira’s gonna make me run three more miles, and I still have a full day ahead of me in the library. And, then Garrett and I have a date with some sports wives later tonight and—”
“What? Sports wives?”
“It’s a television show we both watch.”
“Should’ve guessed. I swear, if he wasn’t married already… Nah, scratch that. You two get along too well to be together. You’re more like his idol than anything.”
“I shouldn’t be anyone’s idol.” I raised my fists again. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Okay,” he said, taking his own stance. “When I punch out…” He demonstrated with a slow movement toward my face.
I jumped back.
“I’m not going to hit you,” he said and gestured for me to move forward. “I’ll feign a punch, and you defend it.”
“How do I do that?”
“Just knock it away.” At my confused look, he said, “No one is going to expect you to be battle-ready for the mission. Eventually, we’ll get you trained up right. For now, you need to do what you can to be effective during a confrontation.”
He pushed his fist toward me again, and I used the outside of my wrist to deflect it away from my face.
“Good,” he said. “How did it feel?”
“I hit my bone a bit, but it’s okay.”
“Then, let’s stick with that, but avoid hitting your wrist bone. Again.”
We practiced the same defense over and over, then switched hands. After a few minutes of that, he randomly used each fist, coming at me faster with each hit.
“It’s really not that bad,” I said when we stopped.
“You have good reflexes, which will come in handy.”
I glanced over at Keira and Garrett, who were in full-battle mode. My eyes widened. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that good.”
“You will,” Mr. Smith said. “You have to. When you’re in a fight for your life, you won’t be able to ask them to slow down, and there are no do-overs.”
“You know, in gym class, when we had to pick teams, they wouldn’t even say my name, even though I was the last kid standing,” I said, chuckling. “Are you sure you want me on your team?”
He sharpened his stare, and his expres
sion sobered. “There’s no one better for this job than you, Madison.” The Mr. Smith from my dream suddenly stood in front of me, the ooey-gooey one with all his sentiments and honesty.
I much preferred the jerk.
Swallowing hard, I asked, “Okay, what’s next?”
He cleared his throat, quite possibly aware of his change in tone and mood. “Let’s do a few more combinations like that, then move on to kicks.”
I followed his lead through another hour of training, surprised at how quickly I picked up everything he taught me. Could it be part of my new superpowers? Or, maybe I’d had these abilities all along. It just took the fear of succumbing to blood seekers to bring it out in me.
Mr. Smith spun in front of me with a rapid kick to my midsection. I successfully blocked it, then panicked at what to do next. My foot flailed up, right to his crotch. He grunted, but I didn’t have a chance to apologize. Within seconds, I lay flat on my back, Mr. Smith straddling me with my arms pinned above my head.
I struggled against his hold, but relinquished my fight. His strong face said I’d never escape. The occasional drop of sweat dripped from his forehead and hit my face, and I was all-too aware of his body against mine.
Quashing my romance-writer brain, I searched for a way out from under him. “I give up,” I said, hoping he’d move aside. “You win.”
“Never go for that area unless you’re sure you’re gonna hit your target,” he said from above me.
My skin burned with another deep flush. “I didn’t mean to… I panicked and didn’t know what to do, and my foot just flew—”
“Don’t panic next time,” he said. “As soon as you lose track of what you’re doing, you die.” He climbed off me and stood up, reaching his hand down to help me.
I ignored his gesture of goodwill and got to my feet. Brushing off my yoga pants, I said, “I think it’s time for me to hit the library.” I looked to my right and saw Keira and Garrett still engulfed in sparring. There was no way I was going to stop her and risk her forcing me to run three more miles. “Tell Keira for me, will you?”
“I’ll come get you for lunch,” he said.
“Not eating lunch today. Too much research to do.” Before he could protest, I added, “I had a large breakfast, and I’ll eat good at dinner. I swear.”