by K. N. Banet
“Fuck you.”
“We’re past that at this point,” he retorted. “He waited in that garage, angry I let you go out alone. I told him if he was foolish enough to think you needed a bodyguard, he hasn’t figured you out very well.”
“Thanks for sticking up for my honor and everything, but I don’t need it.”
“He sees a woman who is taking dangerous risks and wants to help her because she’s taking those risks for him. Are you really going to lock him in a bird cage and not let him make his own decisions?”
“I thought you were on my side,” I snapped.
“I was until you gave me this,” he said, waving the little note. “Kaliya, you’re picking him over intel you would have thrown me under the bus for five years ago. I have a feeling I won’t need to worry about Sinclair getting away with him because you’ll be tracking Raphael’s every movement. Biology. It’s in your DNA to keep him safe.”
“And not killing Sinclair like I need to,” I reminded him. “If I’m stuck there, protecting a guy who is wholly unprepared for this world, Sinclair could get away.”
“You have no faith in my abilities, then,” he said, giving her a deadpan look. “Really?”
I fell into a chair and glared at him.
“I don’t like it. I don’t want him there. I want him to stay here and—”
“Stay safe? Is he never going to be able to go outside without a bodyguard?” Cassius asked softly.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Raphael made me feel like a hypocrite for keeping him here, yet letting you wander off. I’m just passing on the terrible sensation to the more deserving recipient because you’re the one who’s making all the decisions concerning him.”
“He’s the target! We can’t…Cassius…”
“Naga pairs have fought together for centuries.”
“Not when they’re human!”
“He’s not.”
I had to admit defeat at that point, throwing my hands up as I realized Cassius wasn’t going to budge. He was right, and I was wrong. I was treating Raphael like a bird in a cage who couldn’t handle the real world or protect himself.
He’s been doing it for five years, and I have just under twenty-four hours to teach him as much as I can about vampires and fae.
Can I trust him to keep himself out of too much trouble?
“I see the wheels turning, Kaliya. What’s the plan?”
“We need to teach him. A lot. I don’t want him going in ignorant. We have…twenty-two hours. Let’s get started. We’ll get some sleep during the day. I’ve already taught him a little. We’ll see what he’s retained and go from there.”
“Okay. I take it this will be things he can use to defend himself?”
“That’s right. How to kill a supernatural 101.” I got out of the chair and started stretching as I walked. “He’s going to be a little upset with me.”
“Why?” Cassius inquired as we left his office.
“I yelled at him when I got back. He…he asked where I had gone and asked what if something had happened to me. You know, that typical male, controlling bullshit.”
“Ah, yes, that typical male behavior.” I heard the sarcasm but chose to ignore it.
“Yeah. I lost my temper for a moment, then stomped away.”
“Ah, yes, that typical female behavior,” he muttered. I stopped and turned on him. He kept walking as if he hadn’t said anything.
We found Raphael sitting in the dining room, watching Naksha bathe under her sun lamp. He looked up when he saw us, then turned back to the snake. He seemed to like her, or at least was interested.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, going around the table. I stood awkwardly next to him, wondering if he would acknowledge my existence.
“How the woman who sang to this snake is also the woman with the bad temper,” he said. I huffed and looked at Cassius, who shrugged, completely unwilling to help me with this.
“It’s the same woman, and I’m right here, prick. You can’t deny that you haven’t been a bit of an asshole since we met.”
“I know. I wanted to apologize,” he said suddenly, sitting up and turning his body to me. It left me standing awkwardly in front of him, and he stretched those long, muscular legs out on either side of me. “You were right. I’ve been acting…badly. You’re trying to help and probably saved my life at least twice now. Every time something reminds me that none of this is human…it upsets me, and I get angry and lose control. I spent five years doing this on my own. I don’t want to be locked away now, while you two take all the risks. Then you went off alone. I would have hated myself if anyone who helped me after so long was killed because of me.”
“I know you have abilities, so we’re going to spend the rest of our time before the trade training you and getting prepared for the trade off. We’re going to fake swap,” I said, sighing. “And sorry for being bitchy with you. There’s…more going on than just you. There’s a lot Cassius and I need to take into consideration when we’re making plans.”
“I just want to be a part of them. I’m a grown ass man who’s being treated like a child.”
“You are a child,” Cassius said evenly. “But that’s okay, so is every newly Changed werewolf and newly turned vampire. Welcome to your second childhood. It’s much shorter than the first and goes as fast or slow as you want it to.”
“Basically, learn fast, and people will start treating me with a little respect again,” Raphael said. “And they won’t think of me as someone they can take off the street and torture.”
“Exactly. Plus, I already started your training. We can pick up from there.”
“Definitely.” An excited light came into his eyes. I wanted to fucking melt, and I hated it.
“Swords? She always likes practicing with swords.” Cassius was already walking out of the room. I didn’t need to confirm his guess.
25
Chapter Twenty-Five
I spent the rest of the night sparring against Raphael and Cassius. We rotated, giving everyone a chance to take a breather as the others continued. Raphael was still as bad as he was a couple of nights before, but it was something.
“Cassius, can we use the gun range right now?” I checked the time and saw it was five in the morning. We had enough time to get more practice in.
“We can. It’s magically soundproofed,” he answered. “Raphael, let’s hope you’re better with guns than swords.”
“I hope so,” he mumbled, wiping sweat off his brow. “The fact that you all still use swords is fucking strange, but if that’s the way it is...”
“A lot of supernaturals have close abilities and strengths that need a counter if you aren’t incredibly sturdy like them. Vampires can become very strong. Werewolves and werecats don’t care what you hit them with unless it’s silver or a fatal blow—” Cassius was saying.
“And they can bat your head off like it’s a tennis ball on a T,” I added, cutting in. “Swords, daggers, spears. Old weapons are still very useful in our world. I’ll get you something silver from The Market if I can once this is all over. It won’t help you tonight, but it’s good to keep on you. Silver bullets as well, but I only break those out when I know I’m dealing with one of the Moon Cursed.”
“Moon Cursed? Another way of saying werewolves and werecats? Are there other types of were…things?”
“No. No one really knows where they came from, but it’s just the two, locked in a semi-aggressive stand off since they came onto the supernatural scene,” I said, shrugging. “You learn to get used to not having answers in our world. Not everything has a reasonable explanation.”
“I’m noticing. So tonight…fae are poisoned by iron, and a fatal wound with it will kill unless they can find someone who can or will heal them in time. Vampires will die, no matter what, if you set them on fire or leave them in the sun. Everything dies if you cut its head off.”
“Or rip it off,” I said, looking at his large arms. My fan
gs were already down, and the idea of sinking them into the mass of his bicep was an urge that made it very hard to focus. “It’s disgusting and rough, but you have the strength to do it. Don’t forget that.”
“Yeah.” He practically shuddered.
“You flip SUVs like they’re made of paper. It doesn’t take much pressure per square inch to break a neck and tear a head off. And you have to remove it. Vampires can heal from a broken neck once someone readjusts it and gives them blood.” I put the swords away as we talked. Cassius was picking out several guns from his personal arsenal to take to his indoor shooting range in the basement of his multi-million-dollar mansion.
“Yeah…”
I tried not to sigh. He was still adjusting and wasn’t giving us a hard time. He was probably just uncomfortable, thinking he could use his strength for that.
The problem was, I needed him to be a bit more blood thirsty…well, a lot more blood thirsty. I needed him willing to do whatever was necessary to survive.
“I’m ready,” Cassius said, holding out two guns for me. One was a neat little Beretta, and the other was an M4, two of my standard choices. He picked up two more and handed them to Raphael, who held them with practiced ease. Cassius grabbed the two he chose for himself and led us to the basement shooting range.
“You know, most rich people would put bowling alleys down here,” Raphael said, looking around the large space.
“Most rich people don’t need to shoot a lot of people fairly often,” Cassius replied as he put his weapons down at the first station.
I hit a few buttons and called targets to come down in the back. “Have you ever practiced with firearms before?”
“It’s what I did in my spare time. Go to a local shooting range and keep working on my aim. Guns have proven pretty useful over the last five years.”
“Good. Then you know the deal. Don’t point it at anyone else here. We’ll shoot back, and we’re faster than you.”
Cassius didn’t bother with earmuffs, and neither did I, heading to my station. One of the things everyone had to get used to was the loud bang of a gunshot or several in quick succession.
We loaded and took aim while Raphael was still making his way to the third station. Cassius’s range had six stations. He often brought people down to help them, so they could defend themselves while they were out in the world. I knew Leith, Terry, and Annie-Lyn were all fantastic shots.
We all fired around the same time, emptying our handguns, a variety of different ones between us. When Cassius hit the button, the targets came forward, and I grinned to see all mine in the center ring of the target’s body—kill shots, every one of them. Glancing at Cassius’s, I saw the same thing. I knew he was equal to me with firearms.
But when I looked at Raphael’s, I was genuinely surprised.
Heads shots, all within a few millimeters of each other, making one big hole.
When he noticed me staring at his target, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
“I know headshots aren’t practical in a real situation, but they keep my aim sharp.”
“Whatever works,” I said, taking his target down and holding it where Cassius could see it. “Um, for future reference, headshots on supernaturals are a good idea. Body shots can easily be healed by certain species. If you can hit the head, go for it. Most can’t heal from a severe brain injury.”
“However, firearms are generally ineffective with supernaturals,” Cassius cut in. “The speed at which many of us can move, our defensive abilities, and more can render the weapon ineffective. They’ll also try to get close because it nullifies the problem of ranged attackers. Werewolves and werecats can’t carry anything while in their cursed forms, so if you see one of those, figure they will rush you or run. Most animalistic supernaturals want to be on top of you.”
“Anything with hands will start with guns or magic, though. If you’re the better shot, they’ll close the distance,” I said, building on what Cassius was talking about.
“Why…why is everyone so violent in this world?”
“Because we live a very long time and are very invested in living our lives for as long as possible. It’s easy to make enemies when you have an eternity to do it,” I answered. “You piss off someone a hundred years ago, and they’ll still be coming after you a century later or making your life difficult by rivaling you in business or politics. Most likely, you insulted them or took something from them they had decided was theirs. Or maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe you were too nosy at a party and suddenly know something you shouldn’t. If we were all human, conflicts like these would resolve in a few years, and everyone would move on. We’re talking about people who make their plans for decades, if not centuries, depending on how long they’ve been alive. We make enemies at about the same rate as humans.”
“So, in the end, everyone hates everyone,” Raphael said, breathing out. “And this is what I get to look forward to for…forever.”
“No. You age, so only…ninety years, tops unless medical science figures out a way to make humans immortal, then you say your prayers because we’re all in trouble.”
“The very concept of humanity as it stands becoming immortal…” Cassius visibly shivered. “Let’s not consider that.”
Raphael found a place to sit, staring at both of us.
“You’re both immortal,” he pointed out, not shocked. “How does that work?”
“It’s different for every species. Remember, immortal doesn’t mean invulnerable. I’m actually very fragile. My bones break nearly as easily as a human’s,” I said, thinking about his incredible strength. If he ever lost control, he would break me in half. “Cassius is a little more durable.”
“No, I mean like…” Raphael waved at the two of them. “The aging and stuff. How does it work?”
“Oh.” Cassius stepped closer and summoned a chair. Sitting down across from Raphael, he launched into an explanation.
I hated this. We were supposed to be getting ready for tonight, not playing teacher. We could play teacher and student after getting Carter back and killing Sinclair.
“Well, fae children aren’t raised in the human world. We’re raised in our worlds, of which there are a few, and time moves differently there. It could take a young fae a normal eighteen human years to reach adulthood, or it could take a hundred human years. When we come into our full powers, we essentially stop but not completely. We’re immortal from a human perspective. In several thousand years, I’ll look older than I am now.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
Kaliya wasn’t surprised. She didn’t really understand how old Cassius was and she used to sleep with him.
“Ah. Kaliya is a hundred and seventeen. Is that considered old or young?”
“Young for her kind, old for others.”
“Okay, what?” Raphael frowned. “If most everyone is immortal, then…”
“Average life spans,” I said. “Werewolves have a hard time living through their first twenty-five to fifty years after being Changed. Werecats normally live several centuries. Vampires fluctuate wildly, but as long as they control their urges, which becomes easier every generation, the longer they tend to live. They all have a breaking point, though. Some just haven’t met it. Fae are impossible to judge because they can disappear into their own realms and live for a year and miss fifty here. Many supernatural species are like me. We grow up here in this world, and we hit maturity. That depends on the species, but it’s generally by twenty-five. Then we…stagnate. We exist in our prime. Aging after that is minute. Some nagas look older than me, a couple look younger. Depends on how well you take care of your body.”
“Meaning, while immortal, stress can cause the body to age a little, like Kaliya’s hair. There’s one naga who looks quite old, right?” Cassius looked over his shoulder at me.
“Yeah, and he is. He’s second generation, one of the first true born naga. He
’s been through a lot, and if you ever see him, you’ll assume he’s a fifty-five-year-old Indian gentleman. He’s just as spry as he was when he looked twenty-five, though, so don’t toy with a supernatural just because they look old.”
“Age is power,” Cassius said. “You’ll notice a lot of supernaturals won’t tell you their exact age, but you can begin learning how to guess, based on things they keep around them. A ten-year-old vampire is much less powerful than a five hundred-year-old vampire.”
“Carter is a young vampire, and Sinclair is a…middle-aged one?” I figured, mulling over the numbers. “Sinclair can wipe the floor with Carter’s face, and there would be nothing Carter could do about it.”
“Okay. Older supernaturals are more powerful.” Raphael nodded slowly. “I think I’m starting to figure this out.”
“Give it a few years of actively trying to learn, and you’ll know what you need to live day to day in the supernatural world,” I said, thumping his shoulder. “Now get back to practicing. I want to see you try something a bit more powerful than that Glock.”
“Okay.” He jumped up, and I watched him grab an M4. He loaded it with practiced skill as Cassius moved a target into position for him. Once the target was in position, he began firing in bursts of three. He hadn’t had any military training when he was taken, but he obviously had some practice, some idea about how to handle the weapon. When he lowered it, I nodded in appreciation for his aim.
“Did you ever practice with these?” I asked.
“Yeah, had a couple over the years. Bought them illegally and lost them every time I had to run, but if I had the cash at any point, I tried to keep one in my place. Didn’t have enough time to settle in Phoenix to find out where I could get one without the paperwork,” he explained.
“Good. Well, I think you’re going to be as ready as you can be for tonight. We don’t need to teach you how to fire a gun. Cassius? Anything you want to go over with him?”
“No. I think we should all get some sleep.”
Leith cleaned up the mess we made, even breaking down and cleaning the firearms.