I shrug. “Maybe not. But it feels good.”
He smiles. A dark, wicked smile that melts my heart into my kneecaps. “It does. I’ve never felt more alive. And that’s why we have to be careful. You and I… we’ve been caged our entire lives. Now we’re free, now we sing our songs of bloodshed and peck out the eyes of our enemies. But we’re still birds who don’t know how to fly. We’re still hopping around in the dirt with the mice and the snakes. We may believe we’re the butchers, but we’re always someone’s prey.”
We stay and watch the seagulls dive for food in the shallow water. Noah’s words circle in my mind. When the sun paints a path of orange flame over the water, we wander back to the boardwalk. The address Constantine has sent me to is an upmarket Korean restaurant. I order Noah back to the car, but he refuses, as I knew he would.
“I’m not leaving your side. Constantine knows no Imperator would be stupid enough to come without protection.”
Inside, couples and businessmen crowd the tables, and heavenly smells burst from the kitchen. I give my name to themaître dand he disappears into the back. A moment later, Constantine appears. He’s dressed in black slacks and a black silk shirt that accentuates his willowy frame and the gold flecks in his green eyes. He nods to Noah, acknowledging his presence. He beckons us up a narrow staircase to the third floor and through a set of double doors.
I don’t know what I expect to see when I enter the room, but it’s not the lofty space with the polished wood floor, wall of mirrors, exercise mats, and racks of martial arts equipment and vicious-looking weapons. It’scertainlynot the small, bald man in a black robe sitting crosslegged on the mats, his brown eyes vacant, his wizened features relaxed.
Constantine sweeps his arm, indicating the space. “This is my club. Your cousin trains men for the ring – to entertain, to draw out death for spectacle. Here, I make killers. In our public face, we teach advanced classes in a number of martial arts disciplines and send fighters to championships all over the world.” He points to a wall decorated with medals, trophies, and photographs. “The best fighters I recruit into our ranks.”
I’m standing in an assassin school.I’m too intrigued to be terrified. I walk over to a rack of swords and spears. My fingers itch to play with the blades. “What am I doing here?” I ask.
Constantine places his hand on the stranger’s shoulder. The man still hasn’t moved. “This is Benjie. He’s aLakan, a master in the art of Arnis, a traditional martial art of the Philippines. He’s in the city teaching some classes at my school. I thought you might enjoy a private lesson.”
I eye up the harmless-looking old man and the rack of glittering deadly blades. “Are you for real?”
“What did you think this is? Dinner and a movie?” Constantine takes my hand and leads me across the mat so I’m facing theLakan. “I know that’s not your scene. Perhaps a demonstration?”
Excited, I text George and tell her what’s going on. Constantine turns to the master and asks something in Filipino. They each pick up a stick, which Constantine calls abaston. As they circle each other, Constantine explains that the style emphasizes angles of attack. Their bastons clash in a whirl of limbs. In a moment, Constantine’s stick flies from his hand and the crime boss is laid out flat on the mats, disarmed and helpless.
Okay, I’m interested.
Both Noah and I lean forward. The master steps back as Constantine drags himself to his feet and retrieves his baston. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow, and blood trickles from a cut in his arm. He tosses the baston at me. “Your turn.”
I’m enthralled. The master – who speaks English in a soft, halting voice I have to strain to hear – shows us how to visualize a fight as a triangle, with your feet always stepping off the center line at an angle. Never before has geometry been so fascinating. He runs through a range of techniques that can be transferred from all types of weapons to the open hand, then has me fight Noah, then Constantine. When Constantine declares the lesson over, I glance up at the time and notice three hours have passed.
“Thank you. That was incredible.” I shake the master’s hand. Constantine sits crosslegged on the rug with a tea tray in front of him, his shoulders back, his breath controlled. Noah and I exchange a glance before settling down opposite him. It’s as good a spot as any to say what needs to be said.
“Where did you learn to swing a sword?” he asks me.
“Geeks on YouTube videos.”
“I’m impressed. You’re sloppy, but you have a ruthless streak that will help you in a fight. The fact you got the better of Brutus suggests you’re a natural.”
I debate telling him that Brutus was tied up with his legs broken, but I decide I don’t want to ruin my street cred. I accept a small cup filled with herbal tea.
“Thanks. I enjoyed myself today.”
“As did I.” Constantine smiles, and it’s as close to a genuine smile as the man’s capable of. “You may practice here any time you like.”
“What is this, a wedding present?” I narrow my eyes. “This has been fun and all, but I’m going home with Noah.”
He snorts. “I wish you would. I have no interest in marrying someone less than half my age. But let’s be candid. Nero already has an alliance with your family, one that’s been pushing Dio further to the edges. This wedding is his next move – he’ll tie our families together then, piece by piece, carve our empires to pieces to swallow down his fat gullet. I can’t stand by and allow him to take more from me.”
“And what about your tribune? Will she let you marry the woman who killed her lover?”
“Cali has no power here, which I grant is not pleasing to her,” Constantine says. “I’d say she’s all bark and no bite, but it would be a lie. Still, I don’t think you need worry. She knows the score – I won’t tolerate insubordination, even from my top assassin.”
It’s not exactly reassuring, but I’ll take what I can get. I tap my fingers on my knees. “I’m dissolving the business deals Brutus had with Nero.”
“That’s good, but it’s not enough. Will you be able to stop him putting a baby inside you?”
Noah growls. I shrug. “He can try.”
Constantine sips from his tea. “Nero underestimates you. The woman I saw today is capable of ruling as our equal.”
