Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The gym is old-school in style and based within an ancient industrial building. The place looks rough, with its dirty, marked, off-white walls. But a good sign is that it smells like lemon cleaner rather than sweat and blood.
There’s a reception desk with a small shop behind it, selling things like gloves and wraps, along with an office, two changing rooms, a weight room, and a room with standard gym-type equipment like running machines and bikes.
There’s also a room with over a dozen different punching bags, all diverse in shape and size.
I stand in the middle of a big blue matted area with nine other nervous women. My eyes flick about as I take in the padded roof-support pillars and walls. High on the off-white walls, there are national flags from all over the world.
“Okay, ladies, I am your instructor, Scott, and this evening I’m going to teach you some self-defence,” the smallish redheaded shifter says with a smile.
I say smallish as, come on, shifters are never small…
but this guy is under six feet. His dark-red hair is brushed away from his face—a handsome face with freckled, bold features, a broad forehead, and a short beard that hugs his jaw and highlights his narrow, pink lips. He claps his hands. “Let’s warm up…”
The warm-up is brutal…or it should be. The surrounding ladies are all red-faced and sweaty, but my body is nicely warm.
I don’t know where my wobbly arms have gone.
The instructor pushes us to work harder, but to no avail; I’m still not sweating like a pig, and I should be.
Huh. Is this another demon thing? As in, it’s weird.
I’ve not been fit in months, yet I feel fantastic.
They pass pads and somewhat smelly boxing gloves around, and we split into pairs. One girl hits while the other holds up a square pad. Scott barks out instructions on our fighting stances and encourages us to use our hips to add weight to the punches. “Aim not to punch the pad, but through it.”
When it’s my turn, I try not to pull a face when I slide my hands into the damp gloves.
I punch the pad and I grin, as this is fun.
To add a little motivation, I imagine John’s face superimposed onto the blue foam.
Take that, John, I think as I hit his nose and then his chin.
One particularly hard hit from my right fist and the poor girl holding the pad flies through the air and lands with an oof on her bum.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say as I rush to help her up. She gives me a rueful smile, but before she has time to speak, Scott is there, pushing her towards another pairing.
“You okay?” She nods. “Double opponents,” he says to the girl with the boxing gloves.
He turns back to me, and with a determined, angry look on his face, he nods toward a quiet area.
I follow meekly behind his stomping form, and when he thinks we are far enough from the others, he spins back around and interrogates me.
“Why you here? Are you from another gym? It’s clear you’re not a normal beginner. ” His head tilts to the side.
Boom. Instead of taking offence at his angry questions, I grin at him. He thinks I’m a fighter! I refrain from doing a fist pump. Instead, I bounce on my toes. I can feel the silly grin spreading across my face—my cheeks hurt from the strain.
Eat your heart out, Rocky. Eye of the tiger.
His eyes narrow. He looks me up and down, and then he nods. “You’re the new demon,” he says bluntly.
I stop bouncing, and my happy grin slides from my face. It’s my turn to narrow my eyes at him. When he continues to stand there, I surreptitiously flick my gaze around the gym. No one heard him. But I’m busted.
I drop my eyes and stare at my feet. I toe the blue crash mat. “I will go, no need to chuck me out,” I mumble. I remove the smelly gloves and hand them over. I turn to leave, but a gentle hand on my arm stops me.
Scott stops me. “Hey, no, don’t be so soft…
are you kidding me? A demon at my gym? Hell, demon, I’ll train you for free—it would be an honour to train you.
Look, we are almost done anyway for today.
Why don’t you come back tomorrow night, and we shall work out a real training programme. ” He sounds…excited.
My eyes narrow. If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.
“Look, demon.”
“Emma. My name is Emma,” I grumble.
“Emma, I know the hellhounds. Well, I know of the hellhounds, and I know that they have a vested interest in keeping you safe.
“Times are hard. I’m not gonna advertise that you come here, but word of my training you will get out to the right ears, and it will be good for business.” He smiles and gives a small shrug. He seems genuine.
I find myself nodding in agreement. I need the help. “It’s a deal, but I’m paying you.” I’m not using him—that is what bad people do.
Rule number one: Don’t be a dickhead.
He slowly nods, and an even bigger smile works its way across his face. “Great. See you tomorrow night at eight.”
“You killed the vampires,” I say. John grunts down the phone at me. “You can’t just go around killing people.”
“Why not?”
“Because…because it’s morally wrong.”
“Morally wrong according to whom?” Honestly. Why do I bother?
“To me.” He grunts again. “I met my mum last night,” I whisper. I don’t know why I tell him—maybe it’s because I’ve got no one else to tell. How sad is that?
“How did that go?” he asks gruffly.
From our time together, he knows my history better than anyone. Cold metal on my skin. I shiver at the memory. I stop my free hand from frantically rubbing at the scars on my wrist. I swallow.
“She’s with a pureblood, Lord Luther Gilbert…” I pause, waiting for some valid input to the conversation. All John does is grunt an acknowledgement. I roll my eyes. “…I found out tonight it was him who sold me to—”
“Emma, let me stop you there. You can’t seriously be suggesting your mum didn’t have a say in your being sold off. Come on, Emma, what mum would hand over a five-year-old child without a fight?”
Not being able to remain seated, I jump up from the sofa and stomp across the room.
I growl with indignation down the phone, “No, you’re wrong.
Don’t you dare tell me what a woman would and wouldn’t do, John Hesketh.
Last time I checked, you’re a seven-foot monster of a man.
You do not understand what being a woman is like in this world. So shut your mouth.” I grind my teeth.
Why did he have to say that? He could never be in her shoes, never understand what happened. Neither can I.
“Did she confirm he sold you? Did she say the words, Emma?”
“Well, no…but it was insinuated.”
“By the pureblood?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after you turned down his protection?” How did John know he offered me protection? I rub my temple. I can’t remember…before, I think. I turn and stare at my smoky ward.
“I want to help her.”
“Like she helped you?”
“John,” I growl out, a warning in my tone.
“Emma, listen to yourself for a moment. She is a vampire. She isn’t human anymore.
She left you at the mercy of a demon, with no clue about what kind of creature you were.
If she is with the pureblood, then she clawed her way into that position.
Vampires destroy weakness, Emma. You saw what she wanted you to see.
Take it from a man who’s seen and done awful shit: it’s pure manipulation. ”
“You see the worst in people.”
“Yes, and you see the best in everyone. That’s what makes you a beautiful person, but thinking like that, it can get you hurt.
Forget about rescuing your mother. She’s made her bed, and she’s fine.
She isn’t getting hunted by creatures like you are.
It’s a full-time job, keeping you safe,” he grouches.
“No one asked you to keep me safe.”
“How is your demon magic progressing?”
I sigh. His change of subject makes my head spin.
“It’s fine,” I grumble.
Gah, I can’t see fault with his logic, and I understand what he’s saying.
Did I see what my mum wanted me to see…was she manipulating me?
The shaking, the tears. Or is my mum another broken woman who is doing her best to survive in a broken world?
I tap the fingers not holding the phone on my thigh. I don’t know.
If I don’t know, perhaps I need to find out.
“Emma, you still there?”
“Yes,” I grumble again. “I was thinking…my demon magic doesn’t do shit.” I poke at my ward magic and it twists around my finger. I drop my hand and step away. I shake my hand out with a full-body shudder. Freaky ward.
“Try harder. You can disappear into thin air, so that’s a good start.” I don’t take the bait—I’m not explaining my pocket. I grin; I bet it drives him crazy.
“Will you stop killing people in my name?” I boldly ask instead.
“No.” Ha, a short and sweet answer. At least he didn’t lie.
“I’ve got to go.” I say.
“Will you call me tomorrow?”
I groan. “Whoa, no.” I pull the phone from my ear. I wrinkle my nose and glare at it. I cautiously put it back to my ear and say, “I’m not going down the route of friendship with you, John. You make a horrible friend.”
There’s a long pause. I can hear him breathing.
Was I unkind?
“I don’t want to be your friend,” he answers in a low, guttural growl. Sexy. My body clenches and my heart misses a beat. I gasp and my throat makes a strange eeep sound. John laughs huskily and I quickly end the call.
I throw the mobile across the room like it’s a magical hand-grenade. It bounces onto the sofa and the momentum carries it over the arm of the chair. It lands with a clatter on the floor, out of sight.
Oh bloody hell.