Abel watched me like a satisfied father, letting an uncharacteristic smile plaster on his face as he watched me. As soon as he realized I was watching him, the smile drifted away and his face became sterner like its usual composure. He straightened himself up, becoming rigid like a statue.
I had sparred with the bag for what felt like hours, my focus more intense than ever. Abel had even pulled me away to fight with him, and I was successful enough to get in a few punches before he knocked me to the ground. It was getting harder and harder for him to subdue me so easily, I noticed. He made notes about me out loud—my stance was too weak, or my footwork too clumsy. Each criticism making me want to succeed all the much more.
"Perhaps you should be taking dancing lessons," Abel noted. I knew he was trying to joke with me, to prevent me taking my frustrations out on the bag like earlier.
I stopped the bag with both my hands before I responded to him. I let me gaze continue on the old, beaten up bag before I said, "I don't have any need for dancing, or dancing lessons."
"Even soldiers get invited to balls and celebrations," Abel told me, beginning to take the tape he had bound around my hands.
He pulled at the dirtied tape with diligence, awaiting my response.
"I am not a soldier," I reminded him.
"Soldiers do not only march into battle," Abel told me, finishing with one hand before he approached the other.
"I will not be marching—or dancing—into battle any time soon," I said.
"Soon you may not have a choice." He finished with my other hand, examining them for any damage.
I pulled my hands away from him like he had stung me, one hand cradling the other for comfort. I looked at him with confusion.
"What does that mean?" I asked him.
"I told you there was a strange wind in this city," Abel reminded me, beginning to straighten up the training room in preparation for us to leave.
"A strange wind?" I repeated, dubious. "Are you sure is isn't from the dump?"
Abel gave me the same look like he always did when he felt I was not being serious enough for our conversation. Perhaps he was subtly trying to give me a warning, to prepare me for what lay ahead, but I could only see the ridiculousness in how he was speaking.
"I implore you to take a walk out on the streets to understand what I am talking about," was all he responded.
"I'm not sure Joaquin is looking to take to a night out on the town," I told him, helping him close one of the cabinets.
"I will not tell Mr. Durante of your afterschool activities, if you do not," Abel told me, ushering me out of the training room as quickly as he could.
YOU ARE READING
Charlotte After Dark
Vampire{Part of the Bloodlines Histories} Waking up in the morgue is not how 18-year-old Charlotte Alders expected to end her first Halloween in college. While enjoying a night out with friends, she realizes too late that she has fallen into the hands of...
