Blood Hunt (42 page)

“I know you did
not
just lay that patronizing look on me,” Two muttered. She was standing by the hallway door, leaning against the wood paneling, looking at the vampire on the couch.

“And I know you didn’t just ask me to teach you to fight,” Stephen replied, still watching the rugby game that had been holding his attention for the past hour and a half.

“I’m serious, Stephen.”

“You do not want to learn how to fight from someone like me.”

“Why not?”

Stephen looked over at her again, and now the smirk that lived so often on his face was gone. “Because I’ll make you work. Hard.”

“That might not be a bad thing …”

Stephen shrugged. “I like you. If you go into this with me and then cry off, I won’t like you anymore. It’s a part of who I am, part of who I was even before I made the change. We’re warriors, the Ay’Araf, but part of that is because we pick warriors for fledglings. You are strong and have shown yourself to be remarkably capable, but I wonder if at your heart you are a fighter.”

“What do you think I am?”

“Naomi sees something in you that calls to both the poet and the politician in her. Perhaps you are a lover?”

Two, who had seen a great deal of that particular side of Naomi over the past months, shook her head. “No … I don’t think so. Naomi – she’d admit this herself, so I don’t feel bad saying it – but if it had been Naomi there staring down Abraham, she’d be dead right now.”

Stephen considered this, and then nodded. “You are very likely correct.”

“So … teach me to fight.”

“I could give you some pointers, if you’d like. That might be—”

“No, Stephen. Honestly, what else do I have to do right now? Nothing. Beat me up. Break me. I don’t give a fuck. If you send me to bed every night so exhausted that I pass out before I’m even under the covers, that’s fine.”

A semblance of the smirk reappeared on Stephen’s face. “Naomi might have something to say about that.”

Two rolled her eyes. Stephen did not care that she and Naomi were sleeping together, but he was not above the occasional snarky comment. Two thought that part of this was because Stephen understood that while Naomi seemed thrilled, Two was still adjusting to this new reality. Stephen was incapable of
not
pushing so obvious a button.

“Naomi will deal with it,” she said.

“No doubt.”

“Are you going to teach me or not? I’m being serious, Stephen. I think I can learn
and
keep you as a friend.” Two paused for a moment and then added, “An asshole of a friend, of course.”

The smirk became a grin, and Stephen said, “Of course.”

“Teach me?” Two asked again, for what she knew was the last time. If Stephen decided against it now, she would not push the matter further.

The vampire considered for a long moment, and at last shrugged. “Very well. I shall do what I can, given the fact that you’re a weak, little human and will have a hard time keeping up with the big, bad vampire.”

Two grinned and nodded. She had been on the receiving end of vampires’ strength before and understood that the physical differences were substantial.

“Good,” Stephen said. “First, go cut your hair. Three inches, no longer, until I tell you differently.”

Two, whose hair had reached well past her shoulders since her twelfth birthday, began to tell him no, bit her tongue, and instead asked him why.

“Because I said to,” Stephen replied. “Also, it’s a liability in a fight.”

“But … your hair’s almost as long as mine,” Two told him.

“Which one of us is the three-hundred-year-old vampire who has forgotten more fighting styles than you will ever learn?”

Two rolled her eyes.

“That’s right,” Stephen continued. “My hair is not a liability for me. Yours will be, for you. Three inches is even a liability, but I’m trying to leave something for Naomi to hold on to when—”

“Stop,” said Two. “I’ll cut it.”

“Good. By the way, that is the last time you get to ask me ‘why’ and expect an answer until further notice. Understood?”

I may have made a terrible mistake,
Two thought. Aloud she said only, “Understood.”

“Very well. Then go cut your hair, and don’t bother me again until this game is finished.”

With that, Stephen turned back to the television. Two stood where she was for a moment, looking at him, and then turned to go and do what he had instructed.

Two tried the bathroom that she shared with Naomi first. She wasn’t sure whether Naomi would keep scissors there or not, but it was a good first guess. The vampire girl spent more time in the bathroom than Two did. This was mildly amusing, since Naomi could get away without showering for weeks on end. Despite this fact, and her nearly perfect skin, Naomi had a collection of makeup, perfume, lotions, soaps and creams that would rival any human woman.

It amused Two that Naomi owned such things. Vampire skin did not dry out so long as blood was in ready supply, yet Naomi used three separate moisturizers. They were there, she had told Two, in part because of the varying layers of scent they left, and in part simply because they made Naomi feel more human. Sometimes it was easy for a vampire of her age to feel disconnected from the world outside. These things, simple though they might be, helped her to stay in touch.

There were no scissors in the bathroom. Two assumed Naomi left her hair to professionals and didn’t bother trimming on her own. She wondered if she would be forced to use the shears in the kitchen, most commonly used to clip the stalks from flowers that Naomi bought at the local market, but on more than one occasion called into service to cut a chicken into pieces that Two could freeze and cook at her leisure.

She found a pair of scissors in the top-center drawer of the desk in Naomi’s office and returned with them to the bathroom. She stripped down to her panties to avoid getting hair all over her clothes and stood in the bathtub to help collect the falling locks. The porcelain was cold against her feet, and she felt mildly foolish, but disobeying the first command that Stephen had given her seemed a bad way to begin. Two took a deep breath, and she began to cut.

* * *

“You actually did it,” Stephen said. There was an impressed note in his voice that Two knew from experience was a rarity.

“Yeah, I actually did,” Two agreed. She had left her remaining hair in an unruly mop, unsure of what to do with it. She didn’t particularly care; she wasn’t trying to impress Stephen with her appearance.

Stephen glanced back at the television and said, “I can get involved in this football match … soccer, that is, to you American idiots … or we can start. Which would you prefer?”

“Didn’t get all dolled up for nothing,” Two said.

Stephen nodded and shut off the TV. He stood and moved around her, inspecting her.

“You’ve filled out a bit since I first met you,” he said.

“I started actually eating again.”

“Aye, and fortunately you don’t typically eat crap, other than those horrific frozen burritos, but you spend a lot of time sitting.”

Two nodded, not trying to deny it. She liked to spend her time reading, watching television, or hanging out at bars and clubs. If she was more of a dancer, that might have provided activity, but she rarely danced. At least she spent time walking around the city, exploring, going to museums and famous landmarks.

“You’re fine, don’t mistake me,” Stephen said. “I don’t think you’ll ever be fat … but you’re not fit.”

“No, I’m not.” Two thought of the way that Theroen’s blood had helped to make her fit, sculpting her body and making it noticeably stronger even on the first evening. Vampire muscles would still weaken with lack of use – one of the reasons why Stephen spent so much time training – but the blood was always working to perfect the body.

“Situps, pushups, and weights. And running. Once a day to start, then twice when you stop throwing up.”

“I’m going to be throwing up?”

“If you follow the instructions I give you, yes. I’ll have you drinking plenty of fluids to make up for it. You’ll get used to it.”

Two considered this, then said, “OK.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, given momentary pause by her lack of concern.

Two smiled. “I’m only twenty-one, but I’ve been through a lot of bad shit. Some throwing up isn’t gonna kill me.”

“Very well. You will likely feel better afterward, anyway.”

“All the same, forgive me if I go a little light on breakfast …”

Stephen nodded. “Not too light. At least 200 calories, one hour before you start exercising. You’re going to need the energy.”

“OK. Are we starting all of this tonight?”

He shook his head. “It’s too late. Naomi will be home in an hour. She’ll want her private time with you, and I’ll want to go to my fights. Tonight, I think, we talk.”

Stephen indicated a high-backed, upholstered chair that sat to the left of the couch. Two went to it and sat down. Stephen returned to his previous place, leaning back, crossing one leg, and spreading his arms across the back of the sofa.

“The first thing you need to learn about fighting is that there is nothing chaotic about it,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

“No?”

“Not if you’re good at it. Consider …” Stephen thought for a moment, searching for an appropriate analogy. “Consider a car chase in a movie. To the viewer, it appears highly chaotic, dangerous, and unpredictable. To the stuntmen involved in its creation, it’s simply a sequence of events, and reactions to those events. When car X moves right, car Y moves left, and so forth. It can still be dangerous, but only if mistakes are made. Just like fighting.”

Two nodded.

“When an enemy comes at a trained fighter, that training allows them to gauge dozens of factors and come to a decision. Of course, this does not supplant instinct. If anything, it
relies
on instinct. The best fighters perform with a kind of pure grace that’s impossible to describe. Each move flows from one to the other, the combination of training and instinct working together in perfect harmony. The training acts as a filter and allows the proper instincts to come through. When two of these fighters meet, the result is something beautiful, like a perfectly choreographed dance.”

“Are you that kind of fighter?” Two asked.

Stephen smiled and shook his head. “I am better than many … my sire chose well, but I am not among the elite. Jakob is a more natural fighter than I am, and there are others, both here and in America. I make up for it by keeping my body finely honed, and with raw aggression.”

“But you still use your training to filter your instincts?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“And you’re going to teach me to do that?”

Stephen nodded. “Eventually. First you have to learn the basics of the tools. Then we can worry about technique.”

“What are the tools?”

Stephen shrugged, looked out the window for a moment, turned back to Two.

“What can you use to kill a man?” he asked.

* * *

Stephen had spent another forty minutes or so discussing what he planned for Two’s basic regimen. She typically woke up a few hours before the vampires did, and this time would continue to be hers, as would be the last few hours before dawn. The latter was Stephen’s concession to Naomi. For the rest of the time, roughly six hours, Two belonged to Stephen. They would start with exercise and strength training, eventually moving on to hand-to-hand combat. Early on in the training he would also give her books to study, until her body was ready to stand up to more prolonged physical activity.

He didn’t expect her to become a brilliant fighter overnight, but he expected her to work at it every single day. It didn’t matter to him if she was tired, had a headache, was menstruating (it had taken six months for this particular sign of humanity to return to her), or whatever other excuse she might come up with. If Stephen felt Two wasn’t giving him everything she had, he was going to make her life even more difficult.

Eventually, he had told her, the training would lighten up a bit. The initial intensity served a twofold purpose. First, it would help whip her body into shape in a quick and efficient manner. Second, and probably more importantly, it would allow him to gauge her commitment to the work. Two expected to be miserable for several weeks, but she also intended to give it her all.

“Oh, Lord, Two … what did you do to your hair?!”

Two glanced up from her book and gave Naomi an apologetic smile. “I kind of asked Stephen to teach me to fight.”

Naomi looked pained. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Two, he’s going to
kill
you!”

“Nah … but he’s going to break me for a while.”

Naomi sighed, flopped down on the couch next to Two, and put her head in Two’s lap, looking upward. “You’re going to get all muscle-y.”

Two shrugged.

“I like you soft,” Naomi continued, tracing a finger along one of Two’s arm.

“It’s something I need to do, Naomi,” Two said. “I … it’d help me a lot if you were OK with it.”

Naomi sighed again, but said, “I understand. I just … don’t let him make you too hard. Not your muscles, but …”

Two smiled a little as Naomi’s voice trailed off. “I get it. I won’t. But I’m not always warm and fuzzy
now
, hon.”

Naomi rolled her head sideways and kissed Two’s navel where her shirt had pulled up. “I can think of a few places that are,” she said. Two shivered, but didn’t respond, running her fingers through Naomi’s hair. The vampire sighed, shifted, drawing herself up so that she knelt, straddling and facing Two. The two of them regarded each other for a moment.

She is so pretty,
Two thought to herself. Naomi, forever seventeen, fit, and toned, with her perfect face and body, was probably the most physically attractive person Two had ever met. There were times when Two wanted not to be with her, but to
be
her. Sometimes Two would wake in the afternoon and just watch Naomi lying naked and asleep on the bed, her body an ocean of curves, supernaturally devoid of blemishes. Two couldn’t conceive of anyone, male or female, not wanting the vampire in those moments.