Viscounts and Vampires

Chapter Twelve

Eleanor was in the courtyard of her father's estate, dripping sweat. Her loose pants were clinging to her soaked legs as she adjusted her stance, feet planted wide in the dirt.

"Again," her father said from across the yard.

Eleanor pushed damp hair from her head and adjusted her grip on the wooden pole. Her palms slid across the well-worn wood as she studied her opponent. He was a few years younger than her but much stronger and several inches taller. He watched her back, his hands firmly gripping his own staff.

Eleanor stepped to the right and her opponent responded, keeping the distance between them the same as they slowly circled each other. Finally, Eleanor saw his weight shift and a moment later he attacked. He feinted right and then attacked left, staff moving lightning fast. Eleanor shifted and felt the staff shake as she blocked the blow. She thrust back and he knocked the strike aside, tilting her off balance. She regained her footing in time to block another blow. He backed off after that, circling her again.

Eleanor watched his feet crisscross each other as they moved. His staff was poised to hit but remained still. She took the offensive this time, striking low at his feet. She made contact with his calf before he danced backwards and returned a blow that struck her squarely in the ribs. She gasped from the pain and took a step back. He pressed the attack and she raised her staff to block, but the force of the attacks drove her back. She stepped back, trying to regain her footing, but before she could he sent a blow aimed at her legs and she fell squarely on her butt.

Her opponent extended a hand and helped her up. She limped over to the pitcher of water in the shade.

"What was that?" her father demanded as she gulped down the cool water.

"He's stronger than me," she protested. "I can't match him."

"Do you think vampires will care that they have you outmatched?" he asked. "And believe me, they will be stronger than he is." He pointed across the yard at her sparring partner, who was still in the sun practicing his steps.

"How am I supposed to fight someone who can knock me back with a single blow?" Eleanor wiped her mouth and then her entire face with her sleeve. Even in the shade, it was still unbearably hot.

"You have to be smarter than they are. You know the techniques but you try to use brute force instead. If it's not working now then it certainly won't work against vampires. Again."

Eleanor picked up her staff and trudged back to the center of the courtyard. With aching muscles, she lifted it and stepped into position. The morning was still early.

Eleanor's eye fluttered open. For a moment, she thought she was back in India after another day of endless training. Her body certainly hurt enough for it. But with a start, she remembered the night before. She raised one hand to her neck and felt the soft bandage still in place. Rising to her feet, she padded barefoot across the floor to her mirror. Her eyes were red and she looked pale, but otherwise healthy. With a wince, she began unwinding the bandage. She let it fall to the table and examined the wound.

It was better than it could have been, she thought. It was certainly better than she had seen on others. She had talked to countless people in the small villages who had sported similar scars, some of them spanning the entire neck. Eleanor's was small and precise, as if the vampire had only wanted to kill her and had had no interest in the blood frenzy that they reveled in while feeding.

She still shuddered to see the bright red marks on her skin. She had often imagined what it would be like to feel the sharp fangs sink into her neck. She had always thought that if she ever found out, it would be the last thing she felt. Seeing the marks on herself but still standing was surreal.