It’s true, I haven’t been this thin since I left Tony. “It’s too long,” I mumble, rubbing the ache of our mating bond that never leaves my chest. “Damien is suffering. In one week, he went from being himself in his dream to being suicidal. Who knows what she’s doing to him now? I don’t want to eat or sleep. I just want him back.”
She pulls me into a tight hug. “And the way you’re going to do that is to win a challenge against the queen. If you don’t eat and don’t sleep, you’ll be too weak to free him. I know it’s hard, but you have to keep yourself strong.”
I promise her I’ll try harder and then descend the back stairs as Cassius’s voice from the parlor carries into the attic. We start with balance and then basic sparring. I know how to throw my weight into a punch with proper form and can now move quickly while maintaining stability. I’ve done about a million sit-ups and spent more time planking over the past few weeks than I probably have my entire life. But today, when I meet him in the parlor, he thrusts a dagger into my hand.
“Good evening, Eloise. Are you ready to learn knife-fighting techniques?”
“Knives? No swords or guns?” I mean it as a joke. I don’t even feel ready for the blade in my hand.
“Guns are almost useless against vampires. And while a sword is works for a quick beheading, they’re slower and more awkward to wield, especially for a human. No offense, but any vampire worth their blood would be able to see your intent with a sword the second you pulled it from its scabbard, You’d be blocked and disemboweled mid-swing.”
I draw in a deep breath. “All right. So no swords. What do I do with this?”
I immediately flip the dagger over in my hand so that the blade faces upward. He shakes his head and frowns.
“What? I already did something wrong? I just repositioned the knife.”
He takes the dagger from me and flips it over, double-sided blade pointing down and back from where I grip the hilt. “When you’re in Night Haven, your only hope of slaying a healthy vampire is the element of surprise.”
He moves in, pressing the fingers of my fist to my thigh. This close, with him towering above me, it’s impossible not to be reminded of Damien. If I closed my eyes, I might imagine he’s here. I catch myself inhaling deeply, hoping for his scent, but Cassius’s is completely different. White pepper and Egyptian amber. I refocus on the lesson, missing Damien so much my chest aches.
“Pretend the dagger is sheathed at your thigh and I am a vampire moving in to feed. Where do you strike?”
I lift the dagger between us and press my knuckles into his turtleneck-covered torso. “The gut.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t kill a vampire that way. They’ll simply drain you dry, and your blood will heal their injury.” He grabs my hand and sweeps the blade between us until the edge presses into the inside of his thigh. “You need to open an artery. That won’t kill a vampire, but it may buy you time. There’s one here, in the thigh.” He sweeps my hand up to the side of his throat. “And here, on either side of the neck. But to kill, you need to go for the heart or the brain. Hit those and you will incapacitate your victim for several minutes. That should be long enough to cut off their head. Never assume a vampire is dead if their heart is still in their chest and their head is still attached to their body.”
I gulp. Jesus. Now I’m cutting off heads? “Okay,” I drawl, obviously not okay.
“As a blood donor, your best option is to fake romantic interest, pull them in close, and stab them in the heart.” He points to the area under his left arm. “Slide it between the ribs.”
He wraps my left hand around the back of his neck, moving in like we’re embracing. I raise the dagger from my thigh and try to press the tip between his third and fourth ribs. I miss.
“That’s too low. If I were a vampire, you’d only piss me off. You’ll have to feel your way. You won’t be able to see it, and every vampire will be a different height and weight. We’ll get there. Let’s start with the basics.”
He gives me two sheaths to strap to my thighs. Great. I now have two daggers I don’t know what to do with. But over the next hour, we go through a set of hooks, thrusts, and slashing movements. I practice over and over—right diagonal, left diagonal, as if I’m drawing an x on my opponent, and then straight down like I’m plunging the knife into their chest, dropping to my knees with my entire weight to sink and tear whatever my dagger can reach. Hooking to the head from the left, from the right, slashing on the return. Cassius becomes the world’s best practice dummy, turning into shadow the second before my blade makes contact. It’s something a vampire can’t do, and in no time, I’m sweating fiercely, struggling to maintain a balanced fighting stance while avoiding his intentionally slow counterattacks.
“Remember, you’ll have to push hard to break through the rib cage if you hit bone. As hard as you can push. The daggers I’m giving you are the sharpest you can attain in these lands and enchanted by the Lamia coven’s witch, but it will still take all your might. It’s better if you can slice between the ribs.”
“You’re giving me enchanted daggers?” I frown. “Will I need such a thing?”
“No one knows, Eloise. But even before you challenge Valeska, you must be able to defend yourself. Night Haven is a dangerous place.”
We run through various scenarios. He attacks me from the front, from behind, from the side. He grabs one wrist. Both wrists. He teaches me to kick, to break a hold. We go again and again, the clock in the corner chiming as the hours tick by. Chiming and anchoring me. I might not be exercising my magic, but as I grow tired, I can sense my connection to it, as if it’s an invisible hand, steadying me, holding me up, giving me speed, endurance.
“Good!” Cassius yells. “You’ve got it. Just like that!”
He rushes me, pretending to bite, his teeth grazing the side of my neck. I do as he trained me, pulling him closer and stabbing into his smoky flesh, between where his ribs would be. He re-forms and I slice his femoral and jugular in one sweeping pass between us, then hook into his ear. We go again and again until, despite my exertion, my skin grows icy cold.
He catches my arm. “You’re pale and… freezing.”
Spots swim in my eyes. “I’ve overused my magic.”
He helps me into the chair near the fire and to sheathe my blades. “I didn’t think we were using magic. Is that how you improved so quickly?”
My head is pounding, and I lean it against the back of the chair, closing my eyes. “It just sort of happened.”
“Well then, time for a break.” He grabs my water bottle off the mantel, his eyes falling on the ventilation grate that’s still waiting for me to get the ladder from the garage and reinstall it.
