I can't with the T-Shirt on.” Her tone brokered no argument, it was a command, one I think she had used on others she had trained in the past. I was getting the feeling that Erika was a warrior first and foremost, a well trained, highly experienced and highly ranked warrior. I would not show fear.
I had a sports bra on underneath, that covered me quite adequately, so much to the surprise of several vamps nearby I just did what she asked, without complaint. They all knew me better. Had Michel demanded, I would have thrown a hissy fit. Erika just smiled and it wasn't a knowing smile, just a you go girl smile. We may have been still sizing each other up, but I think Erika might just have had a little respect for me already, like I did her.
I came and knelt down next to her on the mat, mirroring her stance.
“We will use bokken when we spar each other, but for starters I want you to practice the Weapon Dance, so as we won't be sparring off against each other, the real deal will do.”
“Weapon Dance?” It sounded something like a performance, not too hands on at all. That I could handle.
“We are using traditional Swedish style swords, but a combination of Swedish fighting methods and Japanese kendo moves. When practised repeatedly, your body begins to memorise the muscles needed, the motions required, to carry out the actions of brandishing a sword. Eventually, they will become second nature, you will not even have to think of the action itself when fighting, just follow your muscles' memories to combat your enemy.”
OK, so pretend moves repeated. How bad could it be?
I will never ask that question again in my entire long eternal life. Erika had me practising the same moves over and over and over again for more than four hours straight. She barely let me take a breather to rehydrate, only allowing a marathon runner swig from a bottle between one set move and the next. My muscles ached, still not having been healed by Michel since yesterday, my limbs were fatigued, my head pounded and still she kept shouting, “Again!”
Most of the vampires had given up after an hour or so, some of the more staunch supporters - or sadists, I'm not sure which - stuck around a lot longer. Shane Smith offering me sips from water bottles every now and then, bless him. And Bruno playing poker with Jett and a couple of others quietly in the corner. Occasionally slipping a glance my way. I guessed he was there on Michel's orders, making sure Erika toed the line.
When I thought I couldn't possibly last another second she called a halt to the proceeding and took away the sword. Re-sheathing it while I stood shaking and swaying on the mat. I was so relieved I could almost have cried. Finally I could go take a soak in the bath.
I went to walk off the mat and she growled. Vampire growl.
“Not yet, Lucinda.” I almost went to say, you can call me Luce, but I am so, so glad I held my tongue, because this woman did not deserve to call me by my nick name. “Now, we spar.”
Oh fuck!
Chapter 8
Never Give An Inch
“I don't think I have it in me, Erika.” I couldn't deny it any longer, I could almost feel myself sinking into sleep.
She grinned menacingly. “You giving up on me, Nosferatin?”
I didn't want to agree with her, but I was knackered, and that's KNACKERED in capital letters. But just then, out to the side of the room, in a gap left by the recently deserting vampires, a flicker of light started and then within seconds the form of my other trainer, - the Nosferatin one - Nero, appeared. Nero can Dream Walk, that's how he trains me from all the way over in Cairo where he lives.
He took a slow look around the room, taking in the training arena, the few vamps sitting wearily in the corner and the sight of my sweat soaked, slowly swaying self on the centre of the mat and smiled.
Nero's gorgeous. He's my trainer and I have a completely professional relationship with him, but I still can't help noticing his thick short black hair,
I had a sports bra on underneath, that covered me quite adequately, so much to the surprise of several vamps nearby I just did what she asked, without complaint. They all knew me better. Had Michel demanded, I would have thrown a hissy fit. Erika just smiled and it wasn't a knowing smile, just a you go girl smile. We may have been still sizing each other up, but I think Erika might just have had a little respect for me already, like I did her.
I came and knelt down next to her on the mat, mirroring her stance.
“We will use bokken when we spar each other, but for starters I want you to practice the Weapon Dance, so as we won't be sparring off against each other, the real deal will do.”
“Weapon Dance?” It sounded something like a performance, not too hands on at all. That I could handle.
“We are using traditional Swedish style swords, but a combination of Swedish fighting methods and Japanese kendo moves. When practised repeatedly, your body begins to memorise the muscles needed, the motions required, to carry out the actions of brandishing a sword. Eventually, they will become second nature, you will not even have to think of the action itself when fighting, just follow your muscles' memories to combat your enemy.”
OK, so pretend moves repeated. How bad could it be?
I will never ask that question again in my entire long eternal life. Erika had me practising the same moves over and over and over again for more than four hours straight. She barely let me take a breather to rehydrate, only allowing a marathon runner swig from a bottle between one set move and the next. My muscles ached, still not having been healed by Michel since yesterday, my limbs were fatigued, my head pounded and still she kept shouting, “Again!”
Most of the vampires had given up after an hour or so, some of the more staunch supporters - or sadists, I'm not sure which - stuck around a lot longer. Shane Smith offering me sips from water bottles every now and then, bless him. And Bruno playing poker with Jett and a couple of others quietly in the corner. Occasionally slipping a glance my way. I guessed he was there on Michel's orders, making sure Erika toed the line.
When I thought I couldn't possibly last another second she called a halt to the proceeding and took away the sword. Re-sheathing it while I stood shaking and swaying on the mat. I was so relieved I could almost have cried. Finally I could go take a soak in the bath.
I went to walk off the mat and she growled. Vampire growl.
“Not yet, Lucinda.” I almost went to say, you can call me Luce, but I am so, so glad I held my tongue, because this woman did not deserve to call me by my nick name. “Now, we spar.”
Oh fuck!
Chapter 8
Never Give An Inch
“I don't think I have it in me, Erika.” I couldn't deny it any longer, I could almost feel myself sinking into sleep.
She grinned menacingly. “You giving up on me, Nosferatin?”
I didn't want to agree with her, but I was knackered, and that's KNACKERED in capital letters. But just then, out to the side of the room, in a gap left by the recently deserting vampires, a flicker of light started and then within seconds the form of my other trainer, - the Nosferatin one - Nero, appeared. Nero can Dream Walk, that's how he trains me from all the way over in Cairo where he lives.
He took a slow look around the room, taking in the training arena, the few vamps sitting wearily in the corner and the sight of my sweat soaked, slowly swaying self on the centre of the mat and smiled.
Nero's gorgeous. He's my trainer and I have a completely professional relationship with him, but I still can't help noticing his thick short black hair,
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