The Hunted (23 page)

Martha, on the other hand, was moderately nice. She was the reason I had my Saturday job at Cairns Fine Furniture and Accessories. Not only was she an interior designer like Glen, but she was also the owner, and I always thought it was nice of her to have offered me the job even though I was less than crazy about homewares. But if I was totally honest, it sure beat working in Susan and George’s hardware store.

That was one job I would leave to Lucas. Give me scented candles and scatter cushions over pitchforks and shovels, any day.

I collected my backpack off the floor, waved goodbye to the other adults that were leaving for the day, and wandered over to my usual place at the long oak table in the corner of the room, avoiding the glare that George was directing at my back.

Lucas and Karina, who were both in their last year of high school, naturally sat together. Lisa and I took the opposing side of the table. She and I were both sixteen years old and still had our senior year ahead of us.

I liked Lisa. She never really talked all that much which suited me just fine. She was overtly shy and somewhat self-conscious. She had curly red hair like her mother, and the same brown eyes and smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She always made comments about how pretty I was, which I found flattering and uncomfortable, all at the same time, particularly when it was obvious that she seemed less than pleased with her own appearance. She was not unattractive, merely plain and a little on the overweight side. But once I had gotten to know her it was very difficult not to like her. She had a beautiful smile and perfect white teeth, and a laugh that made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. I liked to remind her of those things when she called me pretty while nervously tugging on her curls and cursing her fiery red hair and freckly skin.

On the other hand, Karina was the exact opposite to Lisa. She was just as short, but rake-thin with voluminous, long black hair and vibrant green eyes. She was pale unlike her father Malcolm, who was deeply tanned, which had me wondering what her mother might have looked like. Since I’d probably never know because the lady had run out on them, I’d decided her pasty pallor was probably because we were always holed up in the IMI with no windows to let the sunshine in.

Quite depressing, actually.

‘Okay. Good morning, everyone,’ Martha began, ‘I will be taking your lessons for this morning. Lucas and Karina—you will continue on with your history assessments for the next few hours. Feel free to make use of the library for reference. Lisa and Elena—for today I think we shall work on biology.’

I stared at Martha open-mouthed.

Seriously—no maths?

‘Is there a problem, Elena?’

I shook my head. ‘No, Martha, biology would be great.’ Well that was an over statement, but it sure as hell beat the crap out of having to do algebra.

*          *          *

Classes flew by, probably because I was so enamoured by the fact we were completely skipping over the mathematics part of the curriculum today. No doubt it was something that Susan would hammer it into me and Lisa tomorrow instead.

Something to look forward to.

Maybe I should get a head start on the maths tonight so I don’t struggle tomorrow?

Like that’s going to help.

I know but—

‘Elena, you’re not concentrating,’ Peter growled, as he knocked me flat on my back for the third time in as many minutes.

I howled in surprise and sucked in a new breath of air to replace that which had just been ruthlessly knocked right out of me. Why was I still thinking about school work when this was my favourite part of the day?

‘Sorry,’ I gasped.

‘Don’t say sorry, just concentrate and try and get the blade out of my hands.’

Peter held a fake wooden blade and was dancing around on top of one the foam mats we used in the training rooms, foam to prevent injuries. Not that the mats made any difference—Peter never took it easy on me. In fact, he’d broken more of my bones than I cared to remember. It was a good thing I could heal otherwise I might have started to think he was out to get me.

I rolled over on my side and scrambled back to my feet. I hopped lightly from one foot to the other, trying to get a bearing on my opponent. It wasn’t easy since he seemed to predict every move that I was going to make.

I lunged forward, feigning a hit to the left and instead lashed out to the right.

He caught my swing with his arm and blocked me, taking a swipe with his right leg and kicking me hard in the left side, knocking the wind out of me.

Again.

I dropped to my knees, sucking in air at the same time as trying to land a couple of blows to his flabby mid-section. He blocked ninety percent of them, but I got one in just at the base of his ribs—but not enough to crack them.

He reeled backwards slightly, coming straight back at me with a roundhouse kick to the head. I ducked, smiling lightly as his foot sailed through the air just above my head, missing his target.

He grunted. ‘Don’t get cocky, Elena. That always happens. You get too brash and then all of a sudden while you’re busy feeling smug you get kicked or punched in the face.’

I grinned, rolling away from Peter’s feet.

Not always.

I danced around lightly in the space in front of me, watching for any sign from Peter that might give away his next move. I was feeling confident that I could beat him today. I hadn’t really been concentrating until now, but I’d still managed to get away from him relatively unscathed, which was somewhat of a miracle. If I could just get that knife out of his hands then maybe George would change his mind, let me tag along on the next hunt.

Despite my vigilant stance and watchful gaze, Peter made no attempts to attack. He didn’t move his eyes from me. I was going to have to make the first move, which would undoubtedly result in some kind of semi-painful counterattack. I just needed to keep my focus and think ahead as best as I could.

In the next instant I lunged forward again, slamming a well-placed hit at the side his arm that was holding the wooden knife.

The pain registered briefly on his face, but I pre-empted his next attack and warded off several of the raining blows he’d aimed at my chest. My arms flailed around in front of me in sharp, blocking movements, our flesh slapping against each other as he slammed me with one attack after the other.

I felt my wrists and forearms beginning to hurt from the impact, but I was not going to relent until I had won. Lucas was kicking ass in the magic department, so the least I could do was excel at something. Plus, if there was bragging to be had around the dinner table tonight, it would be cool if it was about my accomplishments for a change.

He feigned a hit to my ribs which I managed to duck out of the way of. I was not quick enough to avoid the follow-up hit to the top of my shoulder. My knees buckled underneath me.

I hit the deck again, wincing momentarily at the pain in my shoulder, before my Vampiric genes set to work clearing up the problem. I rolled backwards and then flipped back onto my feet again, pursuing a roundhouse kick to Peter’s head.

He caught my kick in his hands, spun me around in the air, forcing me to my stomach. I was prepared, though, and landed lithely on my hands. Then, rolling to my side, I scooped my legs around and up in one quick motion, sweeping Peter’s legs out from under him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the floor.

I scrambled up off the floor and landed a punch straight to the middle of his chest, knocking the air right out of him. He grunted loudly, and I straddled his chest, pinning both of his arms to his sides with my legs. I took the wooden knife from between his pudgy fingers and waved it in the air triumphantly.

‘Got ya!’

He shook his head from side to side in disappointment. ‘Never celebrate until you are certain that you’ve won the battle.’

‘But I have,’ I said grinning. ‘I’ve got the knife and
you
are flat on your back.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

I nodded and grinned. He returned my smile with a particularly vicious sneer.

Uh-oh.

A second later, his legs flipped up behind me and slapped me on either side of the head, causing me to rock forward in shock and drop the knife. He shook his arms free and landed a good hefty punch in the side of my face, sending me flying through the air and sprawled out onto the mat behind me. My whole face sung with pain and I thought I saw stars behind my eyes. I tried to blink away the darkness that was threatening to engulf me.

By the time Peter had gotten to his feet and had started towards me again, my face was all but healed, just the memory of the hard-hitting punch burning in the back of my brain.

I too flipped to my feet, only to come face to face with a follow-up punch and a roundhouse kick to the head which sent me rocketing down to the mat for the final time. As I tried to shake loose from the pain shooting through every part of my head, I heard Peter chuckling lightly behind me. I wanted to return the favour, but I could barely see straight.

He crossed the mat, picked up the knife that I had dropped, rolled me onto my stomach, pulled both of my arms around my back and held them tight in his hand.

He pressed his weight against the back of my thighs and then with the other hand he held the wooden knife against my throat. ‘See what happens when you get too cocky? Do you remember what I always tell you?’

I nodded, suppressing the urge to cry. I hated getting my ass whooped.

‘Tell me,’ he growled, jabbing the wood harder against my throat.

‘Danger does not cease simply because we desire it.’

‘Good,’ he said, letting my arms go and taking a step backwards. ‘Now what have you learnt from this exercise?’

I rolled over onto my side, sat up steadily and looked up at him, all seriousness. ‘Stab you in the heart the first time I have you pinned to the ground.’

He blinked at me and then smiled sardonically. ‘Not exactly, but getting on with the job is, indeed, surely better than sitting about and gloating. But just remember, Elena—never celebrate the victory until you are absolutely certain the battle has been won. Or in other words, make sure your opponent is dead or inoperable before you start dancing around feeling proud of yourself.’ He helped me back to my feet and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Good work today.’

I forced out a smile.

‘What did I miss?’ Lucas said, re-entering the training room. Sarah, George, Susan and Malcolm trailed behind him. ‘Did E get her face kicked in again?’

I shot him a look. ‘What’s it to you?’

Peter laughed. ‘Leave your sister alone, Lucas. You shouldn’t tease her so. You may be able to do magic, but if push comes to shove and you two were locked in battle, she could lay you on your ass any day of the week.’

Lucas slowly went red in the face and turned away.

I suppressed a giggle. The offhanded compliment from Peter actually made me feel a little better.

‘Come now, Lucas, it’s your turn to do some training.’ He turned back to look at me. ‘Elena? Would you mind stacking the foam mats back in the corner of the room?’

I nodded and started folding away the mats.

Susan and George were debating about some staffing issue at the hardware store. Malcolm made his way over to Peter to discuss Lucas’s afternoon training session.

Sarah, on the other hand, made herself comfortable on the small metal grandstand that was for spectators while I busied myself clearing away mats.