She took a deep breath and lifted a hand to stroke his hair, calming him until she could no longer feel the flair of heat coming off his body.
“And don’t ask Carwyn to help you. I would end up hurting him, and I don’t want that.”
She rolled her eyes but continued to stroke his hair, moving further down his bare back as she soothed him. A thought occurred to her. It wasn’t pleasant, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to ask.
“What about Gemma?”
“Have Gemma train you?” She could see him tilt his head as he considered it. “Well,” he began, “that idea has some merit. I suppose if I told her to be very careful…If you’re going to insist on it, she would be the person to ask. She’s a fierce fighter, but I know she wouldn’t be too harsh with you.”
Beatrice forced herself to hold in the snort and focus on her goals. If anyone in the house would go easy on her, it most definitely would not be Gemma.
“Again!”
Beatrice blinked back the tears that dripped from her eyes and forced herself up to her knees. Even after years of martial arts training and a week with the vampire, she felt as if she was hitting a rock wall every time she came at her opponent. Gemma may have looked like a “lady of the manor,” but her fighting style was far more “hooligan in the pub.” It was nothing like she had imagined, and she was rethinking her determination to improve her fighting skills.
“Stand up and come at me, girl. Don’t be so obvious in your attack next time. I saw that punch coming from a mile away. Go for the dirty punch. Always. And hit your opponent when they’re down. There is no such thing as a fair fight.”
“Fine,” Beatrice muttered as she struggled to stand. Every muscle in her body ached and she tasted the blood in her mouth. She told Gemma not to bruise her in obvious places that Giovanni would see, but she was grateful it was wintertime. If he could see the series of bruises she was hiding under her clothes, Beatrice knew he would have lost it.
“You think you can take on a vampire? Currently, my lady’s maid has better fighting skills.” Gemma stood across from her, looking fresh and young in baby blue workout clothes that belied her ferocity. It was no wonder she had survived for over seven hundred years; the woman was lethal. Beatrice forced herself into position again.
“Remember, throw your attacker off-balance. It’s the only way your small size can be used to your advantage.”
“Got it.”
They circled each other, both eyeing the other for weaknesses.
“I imagine Gio has to be quite careful with you, doesn’t he?”
“What-” She ducked to the left as Gemma’s arm shot out. “Are you talking about?”
Beatrice winced as Gemma landed a punishing fist to the shoulder. “Oh, you must know. He was always quite…vigorous if I remember correctly.” The vampire gave her a wicked, knowing grin.
Bitch, Beatrice thought, dodging the blow Gemma aimed at her chest, only to miss the one that struck her abdomen. She doubled over for a second before she stood, trying to keep a clear eye on the vampire.
“Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to have any complaints,” Beatrice panted. “At least, he didn’t last night.” When we did nothing but sleep because I was sore and could barely handle an arm around me.
Gemma grinned as if she could read her mind. “You’re such a sweet little thing. I’m sure you’ll miss him when he’s gone to France.”
“Yeah,” she grunted as she managed to block a swift kick to her knee. “Because God knows I was waiting in my bedroom, crying, for the five years we were apart.”
Gemma cocked an eyebrow at her before she flipped backward over Beatrice’s head.
“Hey!” Beatrice said as she spun around and avoided Gemma trying to sweep her leg. “I thought you were keeping it to human speed.” She darted to the side and grabbed the edge of Gemma’s shorts, pulling the vampire closer as she tried to throw her off-balance.
“And I thought,” Gemma laughed. “That you wanted to learn how to fight vampires, little girl.”
“Fine.” Beatrice grunted when Gemma punched her side. Even though she was only using half her strength, the blow caused tears to spring to her eyes.
Gemma stepped back and wiped at a spot of blood Beatrice had spilled on her arm, allowing the human to catch her breath.
“I forget sometimes that you two are only recently reunited. Terry hasn’t left my side in twenty years, at least.” She darted in and landed a kick to Beatrice’s hamstring. “He’s so devoted.”
Okay, that one hurt a little. Beatrice was determined not to show any mental weakness before the woman, even if physical fortitude wasn’t an option.
“You need to toughen up,” Gemma continued. “And you need to get faster. Watch me.” Gemma attacked one of the training dummies in the large studio on the second floor of Terry’s house. Beatrice watched in awe as Gemma laid a flurry of punches, elbows, and even a few head-butts to the dummy in the corner. Though she had slowed to human speed, Beatrice still recognized the utter ruthlessness of the attack.
“Now, try that on the dummy, and then you can try it on me. After that, you need to run some more; your stamina is still not up to snuff. And be quicker. Make yourself so fast they can’t grab you. If they do, you’re dead.”
“Fine,” she grunted, approaching the dummy in the corner. Beatrice had been training for over two hours that night. She was exhausted but tried to rouse herself so she didn’t meet Gemma's mocking eyes when she finished.
She imagined the face of her old boss for a moment, but that didn’t raise as much ire as it had the week before. Then she imagined Gemma’s face, but not even the sneering blonde could raise her out of her exhaustion.
Finally, she imagined the look on Deirdre’s face when she felt Ioan’s death. She remembered the howl of her cries before the ground swallowed her; then she imagined pale hands restraining Giovanni.
A cold calm settled as she cleared her mind and focused the way Tenzin had practiced with her. She sprang, first into the combination Gemma had shown her, but she couldn’t stop. She rained down blows over and over until she felt her knuckles slip wet against the plastic skin. Beatrice paused to catch her breath, leaning down and bracing her hands on her knees. As she wiped the sweat from her eyes, she realized her knuckles were bloody and the skin of her knees was torn.
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder to look for Gemma and found the blond woman watching her with narrowed blue eyes. Her stance was relaxed and a small smile played on her porcelain face.
“You’ll do fine,” she said. “Now run.”
London, England
February 2010
“Ow, ow, ow,” Beatrice whined as she sank into the bathtub. She was exhausted, sore, bloody at the joints, but relieved as well. She was finally getting a little less battered every night. Beatrice and Gemma had been training together for over two weeks, and as much as Beatrice resented her, she had to admit the vampire was giving her a lot of precious time.
Beatrice had realized soon after she learned Giovanni was a vampire that, as much as their strength and speed gave them physical advantages, the fact that vampires were housebound for half of the day put severe limitations on their immortal lives. Even older immortals like Carwyn who could be awake for much of the day were groggy and weak, exhibiting barely human strength and even less speed.
For Gemma to devote as much of her limited night hours to training Beatrice as she had-no matter how much satisfaction she got from beating her up on a regular basis-was not something Beatrice could forget, and she was reluctantly grateful.