Chapter 8 #2
Malakai takes a moment to think about my question, as if trying to figure out how to answer. “The purebloods of their bloodline become paler with age,” he explains.
“How many different bloodlines are there?”
“A lot,” he replies, telling me nothing.
I huff, silently adding it to a mental list to research later.
We arrive at the company building, and he opens the door to the lobby for me. As we head to the elevators, I notice the receptionist has heeded my words. She gives us a respectful nod but doesn’t make eye contact with either of us.
“Looks like you managed to scare her properly,” Malakai notes as we enter the elevator.
“As was my intention,” I say with a satisfied smile.
We emerge in his office, and Malakai sits me down at his desk, after which he proceeds to dump a pile of folders and papers in front of me. “Alright,” he says, getting himself an extra chair. “Let’s find out how much we can get in that pretty little head of yours.”
The grin on his face makes me more uncomfortable than anything else, and I give him a nervous laugh in return.
Afew hours later, my head rests on my desk, ready to burst. “I’m not made for this,” I mumble.
“If you can create your own spells to alter the fabric of space and time, then you can do this as well.”
I don’t reply. My eyes are closed, and my mind is filled with numbers.
“If all else fails, do as the humans say,” Malakai says, and I shift my head slightly to look at him. “Fake it ’til you make it.”
I groan and look away again. “I don’t think that’s… no.”
There’s a knock on the door, thankfully pulling his attention away from me for a moment.
“Enter.”
“Sir, I’m here for the lady’s lessons.”
Recognizing the voice, I look up. The torturer stands at the door, seemingly hesitant to step further inside. She looks out of place here, clad in black leathers.
“Perfect,” Malakai says, almost throwing me out of my chair. “Drop her off in the lobby when you’re done.”
“I will, sir.”
Tomyla shoots me a look that clearly says she would rather not do this. My mouth twists, and I suppress the urge to lash out at her.
We take the elevator back to the lowest basement level, neither of us saying a word. She leads me to a room that resembles the torture chamber from earlier, with burnt umber stone walls and a dark gray stone floor. The only furnishings are a few racks holding an assortment of melee weapons.
“Have you received any prior training?” she asks, sighing and rolling her eyes as I shake my head in a “no.”
For this first lesson, Tomyla limits communication to the bare minimum.
She demonstrates the proper way to stand and move, testing my stance by trying to knock me over.
At first, she succeeds, a gleeful shine sparking in her hazelnut-colored eyes.
Eventually, after ending up on my ass enough times to get my blood boiling, I finally get the hang of it.
“What kind of bladed weapon do you plan on using mainly?” Tomyla asks during a short break. She opens a hidden door in the wall that reveals a small supply closet. She grabs two bottles of water and throws one at me.
I catch it, thankfully without dropping it. Something tells me she would definitely judge me if I did.
“A dagger,” I answer, fumbling with the plastic bottle.
Tomyla nods as she takes a few gulps of water.
She closes her bottle, sets it on the floor, and saunters over to one of the weapon racks.
I open my own bottle to take a much-needed drink, but when I take my eyes off her for just a split second, she throws a dagger at me.
I barely manage to dodge it, dropping the plastic bottle in the process.
The weapon lodges itself firmly in the wall behind me with a thud, the handle vibrating from the impact.
“What the hell?” I yell at her, my heart racing.
“You’ve got good reflexes,” Tomyla states matter-of-factly.
“And what if I hadn’t?” I snarl, picking up the bottle that has emptied itself on the floor.
“Then you would have that dagger sticking out of your face.” Tomyla walks by me, pulls the dagger from the wall, and hands it to me. “But as I understand it, you can’t die, so no worries.”
“I can still feel pain, you know,” I bite back through clenched teeth.
“Good.” She grins.
Tomyla has an attitude, but she’s an excellent teacher. By the time she calls it quits for the day, I’m sweating, panting, and cursing.
“There’s a bathroom with showers next door. You can find towels and a clean jumpsuit in the cabinets. Maybe bring a change of clothes tomorrow.”
I simply swallow my annoyance.
“Hey,” Tomyla calls after me as I open the door. “You’re a quick study. Well done today.”
The crisp nod she offers me feels like a peace offering, as if this afternoon was a test to see whether I would tap out or not. Then again, that might have been exactly what it was. In a way, I can understand that.
“See you tomorrow,” Tomyla says as she leaves me in the lobby half an hour later, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Malakai appears shortly after, my cloak in hand. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of me in the jumpsuit.
“Not a word,” I snap at him as I accept the cloak and put it on. I refuse to step out like this. At least he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.
As we make our way outside, I notice he’s holding a bag with a bottle in it.
“For tonight,” Malakai explains, noticing my wandering eyes.
“They drink wine?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“They don’t.” A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he replies.
“Then what—” Then it dawns on me. “Oh.”
Back at the house, I make quick work of changing into something more appropriate. As I pick out an outfit, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. My back tingles with the sensation of eyes on my skin, making me slightly uncomfortable. I keep glancing over my shoulder, but I’m all alone.
Just to be sure, I let my magic prod around the room and the house, but it’s just Malakai and me. Biting my lip, I shake my head and silently tell myself it’s nothing. That I’m on edge from Tomyla throwing things at my face and that encounter in the park that I can’t shake no matter what.
Just my imagination...