Eternal Kiss (7 page)

She wanted to protest, but he changed the subject.

“I’m done with my class and you still have time before training. How about that self-defense lesson?”

Ava considered the incident last night. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so protective if she agreed. Odd. The thought of walking to the bus alone didn’t produce the relief she expected.

“Okay, but you have to answer one question.”

Wariness touched his eyes. “What’s the question?”

She had a million to ask, but knew he’d probably dodge most of them. Ava pointed to the left side of his neck. “What do your tattoos mean?”

He relaxed. “It’s Okinawan for hawk. Isshinryu is an Okinawan marital art.” Jarett guided her through the door and into his office. Framed pictures decorated the walls. He pointed to a photo of a red-tailed hawk. “Hawks are a symbol of victory. My sensei tattooed the characters onto his neck when he earned his black belt, starting a tradition.”

“Your sensei?”

“Okinawan for teacher.” He huffed in amusement. “Hang around here long enough and you’ll learn Okinawan and Italian.” He stopped before the mats and gestured to her feet. “No shoes.”

She kicked off her street shoes and stepped onto the thin black foam. The mats interlocked like a jigsaw puzzle. Next to the main entrance, the window spanned the whole front of the dojo.

Jarett faced Ava and grabbed her wrist. His thumb overlapped his fingers. “Holy chicken wings, Batman. Don’t you eat?”

She tried to jerk her arm free, but he held on.

“When we work on self-defense techniques, I’m not going to let you go unless you force me. Now, to break my grip, pull through my thumb. It’s the weakest part of the hold.” Jarett demonstrated.

Ava tried again and managed to free herself. They practiced a variety of wrist and arm holds for a while.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he said. “And quick to learn. Some of my students just don’t get it.”

He taught her how to break a bear hold and other body locks. Ava liked being held by him. He smelled of Polo Sport. When she managed to roll him off of her, she paused as a brief surge of pride followed an “ah ha” moment.

Jarett met her gaze and beamed. “If you know what to do, you can escape from anyone, no matter how big.”

“What if they have a knife or a gun?”

“That’s a whole other lesson. I’ll show you next week.”

The prospect thrilled her. When it was time for her fencing lesson, she cut through Jarett’s office and noticed a framed photo propped on his desk. In the picture, Jarett stood next to an older Asian man. Both wore karate uniforms with black belts. Both had matching tattoos and the same shaped face.

“Is that your sensei or your father?” she asked.

Jarett plopped into his chair. “He was both.” Sadness tainted his voice.

She frowned and tried to think of something appropriate to say.

“Looking for the perfect Hallmark words of comfort?” He gave her a wry grin. “They don’t exist in this case. My father was murdered.”

She thought she felt bad before. “That’s horrible. Did the police arrest anyone?”

Jarett’s expression hardened. “The killer was taken care of. We made sure of that.”

A thousand questions lodged in her throat. Afraid of the answers, she swallowed them and retreated to the Academy.

The Saturday afternoon practice included a welcome change in routine. During the last hour, the coaches staged a mock tournament. Ava endured being embarrassed, but not because of her fencing skills. With just a week of training, her attacks and parries had vastly improved, surprising her. Signore Salvatori even gave her a “buono.” High praise indeed.

No. The embarrassment came from her mother. She arrived in time to watch the bouts. Bad enough to have her mother there, but then the woman compounds Ava’s mortification by cheering and hooting for her. Good thing the fencing mask hid her red face.

When Ava finally slinked from the locker room, she stopped in horror. Jarett was talking to her mother.
Just kill me now.

She rushed over, intent on hustling her mother out the door.

“… Did you see her feint-disengage attack? It was perfect,” her mother exclaimed.

Ava jumped into the conversation. “It wasn’t perfect, Mom. I didn’t win any bouts.”

Her mother swept her hand as if waving away a fly. “It’s just a matter of persistence, practice and experience.”

Ava rolled her eyes.
Mom’s such a dork.

“I like that. Can I tell it to my students?” Jarett asked. He even managed to appear sincere.

Bonus points.

Her mother blinked at him for a few seconds. “Ah … sure.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I thought you trained here.”

“I do, but I teach karate, too.”

“Oh.”

“Did you have trouble parking?” Ava asked her mother, hoping the change in topic would get her moving away from him.

“Not at all, but, Ava … Do you think you can get a ride home with Tammy?”

“Why?”

“A few of my classmates invited me to dinner nearby.” Her mother practically bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Ava was tired, hungry and had been looking forward to a quick ride home. She opened her mouth to complain, but stopped. Her mother had already read Ava’s disappointed expression. She no longer bounced.

If Ava said she couldn’t get a ride, her mother would skip dinner to take her home. She couldn’t even recall the last time her mother did something for herself. She had given up her social life for Ava, and her daughter had been too focused on fencing to notice.

So why did I realize this now? Jarett.
Perhaps the water thrown in her face had woken her up. A good thing. Now the only other things she had to worry about were punks on the bus, and strange wooden stakes in Bossemi’s closet.

“Sure, Mom. I’ll get a ride.”

Delight flashed in her eyes. “Thanks, sweetie. See you at home!” She kissed Ava’s forehead and swept out the door.

“Sweetie?” Jarett smirked.

“Don’t start.”

“That was pretty clever. You told her you’d get a ride home, but didn’t say how, so technically you didn’t lie to her. Does Tammy work Saturdays?”

“No.” She dug in her bag for the bus schedule. She’d missed the five fifteen bus by ten minutes, and the next one wasn’t due until six thirty. Her stomach grumbled. She hunted for money, finding only a few bucks. “Is there a hot dog cart around here?”

He winced. “Hot dogs? No wonder you’re so thin. You should be eating healthy foods.”

She clamped down on a laugh. He’d probably have a fit over her daily diet of junk food.

Despite his protest over her food choices, he led her to a local food stand. The shoppers had gone home, and it was too early for the theater crowd, so the area was empty. Jarett set a quick pace, and Ava hustled to keep up.

On the way back to the bus stop, Jarett entertained her with stories about his karate students.

“… Little guy was so proud of his new move, he ran over to his father and kicked him right in the … Damn.” Jarett grabbed her upper arm. “Listen,” he said in a tight voice. “If I tell you to run, you run to the Academy. Understand?” He talked to her, but he watched three figures walking toward them.

“Yes, but—”

“Not now.” He squeezed once and let go. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a mini crossbow, loaded a small bolt and
aimed it at them. “Don’t come any closer,” he said.

They stopped. A street light illuminated their pale and gaunt faces. Resembling half-starved street punks, they wore ripped baggy jeans that sagged around thin waists, exposing colorful boxers. A ton of bling hung from their necks on thick gold chains. Hoods had been pulled up.

Ava recognized Grinning Skull from the bus. His friend’s shirt had skeletons playing in a band on it, and a cobra design wrapped around the punk on the right’s sleeve.

“You can only shoot one of us before we move,” Grinning Skull said. “That leaves two and I doubt your girlfriend is armed.”

Ava’s stomach twisted as the small bit of confidence she had gained by learning a few self-defense moves fled.

“She knows nothing about this,” Jarett said. “Her bus will be here soon. Once she goes, we can … talk.”

Skeleton Band cackled. The sound scraped like glass against stone. “You didn’t tell her about us? What a naughty boy you’ve been, Jarett White Hawk. Tisk, tisk.”

“Irresponsible,” Cobra agreed. “Jarett will pay with his life. Like father like son.”

“And the girl?” Skeleton Band asked.

“Ours.” Grinning Skull looked at Ava with hunger.

Ice pumped through her veins yet she felt hot and sweaty.

The three advanced.

“Run,” Jarett ordered. He shot the crossbow, hitting Cobra in the stomach.

Before she even moved, the punks flickered. One second they stood fifteen feet away, the next they surrounded Jarett and Ava.
Like a cartoon. Except this is like a badly-drawn horror cartoon.

Jarett dropped the crossbow, pulled a bottle from his pocket, and tossed water into Skeleton Band’s face. The punk shrieked as his skin melted and steamed.

Another flicker and Grinning Skull grabbed Ava in a steel grip. She couldn’t move. Panicked, she yelled for Jarett, but he was caught tight by Cobra. Grinning Skull opened his mouth. The putrid stench of decay gagged her. He bent close to her face. She cringed as his ice-cold cheek brushed hers.

When he bit her neck, she screamed. She never thought she’d be the kind of girl to scream, but terror and pure revulsion had built inside her to such a degree that screaming was the only way to release it.

Grinning Skull pushed against her as if slammed from behind. He grunted and went slack, knocking Ava to the ground. He landed on top of her. A dead weight. She stared at his face and nausea boiled up in her throat. The skin disintegrated before her eyes, peeling off the bone, which crumbled into powder.

Ava kicked the dusty clothes off of her. She wanted to puke, to scream and to faint, but she held it together and focused on Jarett and Bossemi. The master fencer held a wood sword. Two piles of clothes lay at his feet—the remains of Cobra and Skeleton Band.

Bossemi gestured to the clothes and shoes. Jarett swept them up.

“All’interno. Rapidamente!” he barked before running to the Academy.

Ava scrambled upright and followed him with Jarett fast on her heels. When the door shut behind them, they sagged with relief.

“Sandro, I’m—” Jarett started.

“Idiota.” Bossemi turned to Ava. “Prossimo … Come. We must clean your wound.”

In all the excitement, she had forgotten about the bite. Pain throbbed when she touched her neck. Blood coated her fingers. Her vision blurred, but a sharp order from Bossemi snapped her out of it. She didn’t even realize Jarett supported her until they reached his office.

She met Jarett’s gaze. He looked miserable. But she didn’t have time to question him. Bossemi instructed her to lie down flat on his couch. He put a towel under her neck.

“This will hurt,” he said.

When he brandished a spray bottle and metal hook-shaped tool, she closed her eyes. He might not have much of a couch-side manner, but he was honest. It hurt. By the time he had cleaned the bite and bandaged it, tears had puddled in her ears.

Jarett sat on the edge of the couch, holding her hand. Bossemi dumped the blood-soaked towel into a hamper.

“Tell her what she needs to know,” Bossemi said. “I’ll organize a watch.” He handed Jarett his wooden sword, then left.

Jarett stared at the weapon with resignation.

Ava pulled her hand away from his and struggled to a sitting
position. She wanted answers. “Talk. Now.”

He sighed. “At least I don’t have to convince you they’re real.”

“The punks?”

His gaze focused on the life-sized crucifix. “Not punks. Vampiros.”

Vampiros
. Italian for “vampire.” Instinctively, she wanted to protest—vampires populated horror novels, not real life. But she couldn’t explain how the punks disintegrated into powder. “Go on,” she said.

“They’ve been around since biblical times.” Jarett said.

Ava thought back to the attack. “They flickered and were so strong.” She shuddered.

“That’s why we use swords and crossbows. If they grab you, you’re almost as good as dead.”

“What about the stakes I saw in the closet?”

“We use those during the day. We hunt them while they sleep. Safer that way.”

“We?”

“The Hawks. Sandro taught us how to find and fight the vampiros. He recruits candidates from the fencers he invites to his school. Some join us. Others leave. And some won’t get recruited at all.”

“Would I have been recruited?”

He considered. “If I hadn’t messed it up, probably not.”

“How did you … Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right. I thought you were a vampiro. You’re pale
and thin. I wasn’t the only one.” He sounded defensive. “The other coaches suspected you, too. Plus we had just attacked one of their nests, and thought you were trying to get revenge.”

“A nest of them? How many vampiros are there?” she asked.

“There are nests in most of the major cities of the world. The Hawks are there too. It’s an on-going battle. Sometimes we manage to wipe out an entire cluster, and sometimes they get to us first.”

Ava remembered his sad story. “Did they kill your father?”

Jarett’s body tensed and his grip tightened on the sword. “Yes. They drained his blood, starving his brain of oxygen. Once the brain dies, a demon takes possession of the body. It’s not like in the movies. Police don’t find a bloodless corpse. There is no burial and no dramatic rising from the dead. The victim just changes. They lose weight, becoming pale, nocturnal creatures.”

She followed the logic. “Then your father is a …” She couldn’t say the word.

“Not anymore.” Anguish strained his voice. He closed his eyes. “He came to visit me at school. They go after their relatives and friends first. I knew as soon as I saw him.”

Ava waited. Despite the obvious outcome, Jarett needed to tell the story.

“My father had been a Hawk all my life. We moved from city to city, hunting vampiros. But I didn’t want to join the Hawks. I wanted to fence. I was selfish, and my father died.”