Well, hell.
I opened my mouth to respond, but she just turned back to the dummy and kept talking. “I just can’t decide whether you’re too different or too much alike.”
Dawna snorted and I glared at her. “Alike. Definitely. But ohhh … yeah. You should see the way he looks at her when she’s not watching. Yum. But definitely too much alike. Not … you know, complementary. Type A personalities. Both of them. It probably won’t work.”
It was my turn to snort. I leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of that comment. “Tell me about it. But I always seem to wind up with them.” Alex moved her head in agreement but didn’t speak because it’s not like she hadn’t had the same issue with Vicki. Both very Type A’s. “Maybe it’s because they understand the stress. They feel it, too.”
Alex looked at me and then at Dawna before she smiled. It had sad edges. “Or maybe we’re just masochists.”
That made me twitch a little. “Or that.”
She let out a heaving sigh. “If his sister wants to make a report after forty-eight hours, I can open a case. Let her know. It’s easier to process when the family makes the call. Right now, I’ve done all I can do.” She reached into the sash she wore over her official navy blue police warm-ups and handed me a carved stake. “Except offer to help you work off some of the stress.” I didn’t take the piece of pointed wood right away, until she thrust it toward me. “You can’t hide that look in your eyes, Celia. Not from me. That’s why I’m taking you seriously, even if I’m teasing a little. Worry and fear will get you. They’re not rational and you can’t make them go away just by wishing it. Take the stake. Work it off. Trust me … exhaustion isn’t perfect, but it works.”
Worried? Afraid? For a man perfectly capable of taking care of himself? In some ways, he was better at it than me. Totally irrational.
I took the stake.
Dawna proudly pulled out one of her brand-new stakes. “I have my own! What do I do first?”
Alex turned to her, raised one eyebrow, and said, “Get out of that ridiculous outfit and put on something you don’t care about.”
I fought back a smile. Alex had done in one sentence what I’d been struggling to find a way to say. Dawna looked gorgeous, as always. A yellow scrunchie held her hair in a perfect ponytail. The apricot bodysuit was cut high on the hips and made her tawny skin glow, while simultaneously matching the bunched leg warmers. The striped tights brought the two colors together and even matched the piping on her sparkling white sneakers. Totally perfect for either a spinning class at the gym or a Jazzercise video. But for staking training? Um … not so much. “She’s right, Dawna. No fashion plates at this party. Look at us. We both look like crap.”
I’d gone for black warm-ups because, like navy, they don’t show blood. There would be blood—well, of a sort. There were packets of red, mint-scented slime inside the ballistics gel. Drive the stake in far enough and the mannequin bleeds. Hit it with enough force to kill a bat and it sprays you. Part of the exercise is to make sure you can keep going when the stake is slippery or you’re wiping sticky liquid out of your eyes. Same theory as when police academies spray trainees with pepper spray and make them keep chasing a suspect. Life sucks when you’re going up against the bad guys who want you to hurt.
Dawna’s face fell. “But I bought the outfit just for this morning. It’s pretty.”
Alex just shrugged. “No question. It’s stunning. But it’ll be ruined. Fake blood just doesn’t come out of nylon. You’ll have to throw it away after. Is that all you’ve got with you?”
She nodded and I moved away from the wall. “C’mon. You can wear my gray sweats. They’ve got a drawstring waist and I don’t care if they get stained.”
Her sad little pout went away when the computer on the dummy finally reset and a screen set where the nose would be displayed: Ready for first opponent. Choose level. Then all of a sudden she was dragging me to the bedroom. “C’mon! It’s ready. I want to start learning this stuff.”
“Ow! Okay, you know what? This just sucks! I don’t like staking.” Dawna dropped the stake and used her red-stained fingernails to pull another splinter from her palm.
Alex responded by handing Dawna one of the ash stakes from her sash. “And now you know why we pay to get our stakes turned and sanded. Raw wood has splinters. I can give you the name of the guy who does this for a lot of us on the force. He’s a retired cabinetmaker and does it for cheap. Five bucks a stake and he’ll fit the hilt to your hand.”
I handed a pair of needle-nose tweezers over. I’d pulled the first three from her palms because I have better eyesight, but she needed to get used to doing it herself. “Alex is right. Don’t play the hero today. Of course, if you have no other choice when you’re in the field, use what you have. Splinters won’t matter. But for now, use the good ones. A bad first experience will make you want to stop training.”
She nodded. “Oh, it already has. This is hard. I can’t even get the right angle to drive it in to hit the blinking light.”
Alex put a hand on her shoulder in a sisterly, non-patronizing way. “Look, why don’t you sit down and I’ll show you some of the tricks I’ve learned. We’re about the same size and I’ll explain as I go.”
Again Dawna brightened and she nodded. “Okay. Maybe that will help.”
I was closest to the mannequin and reached up to press the selector switch. Ready for Opponent Two. Choose level. “What do you want? Level six?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Rack it up to eight. I need to prove to my lieutenant it was a good workout.”
Wow. I let out a low whistle. “Man. I’m not even sure I can pull off a level-eight workout. I’ll be interested to watch.” I was about to press the start button and step back when she raised a hand.
“Wait. I need to scan my badge to save the data.” She reached for her purse that was still slung over the dolly and pulled out the black leather wallet with her badge. I didn’t realize there was a bar code in the holder now. When she held it up in front of the screen, it displayed her name and badge number, then scrolled: Welcome, Heather. Prepare to defend yourself.
She tossed me the badge. Her hands dangled at her sides; her weight rested on the balls of her feet. I sat down next to Dawna and my friend asked, “Why does it say, ‘defend yourself’ on the screen? And why hasn’t she pulled out a stake?”
“She’s a cop,” I whispered, encouraging Dawna to do the same so we didn’t distract Alex. “Cops can only pull a weapon when there’s no other choice and the opponent has demonstrated it’s a vampire. The dummy will hiss and the screen will show a pair of fangs and only then is she allowed to attack.” That wasn’t all, of course, but I didn’t have time to finish my explanation. The dummy abruptly sprang forward, dipping toward Alex, fast and hard. The thick, coiled spring that formed the lower part of the dummy stretched with a squeak and a male shout came from its speakers: “Get away from me!”