She waited until he tapped out, letting her know she’d won. Then she thought about it for a second, until he tapped out more insistently before she let go and dropped to her feet, immediately moving back up two stairs to keep her distance in case he was faking it to attack her again.
“Very good, Solange. Very good,” he complimented, chuckling while he rubbed his sore throat on his way down the stairs, glancing back at her every once in a while to make sure she was following.
“What will we begin with today?” she asked, following him, though still at a distance.
“What would you like to start with?” Sensei Advinadeto asked.
“I think, Katana. I’d like to start with the blades,” Solange answered. She was very adept, very talented with the blades, and training with them was a very easy training session for her.
“Excellent,” Sensei answered. “Then we shall begin with Jiu Jitsu.” He glanced back to find her rolling her eyes. She should have known better. She answered with the choice that was easiest for her, and he’d known that. So, he’d chosen an option that she hadn’t, realizing she wasn’t as comfortable with the other choices as she was her blades. He was always thinking, always teaching, even in what seemed a simple conversation.
Moments later, the sounds of grunting, snarls and the slap of flesh on flesh permeated the house as Solange and her Sensei grappled for control as they flipped, wrestled, and twisted one another in all the complex moves she strived to master day after day. Marceline had transformed the ballroom of the house into a martial arts training room for Solange. Its floors were covered in training mats, its walls lined in mirrors for the most part, with a portion of one wall mounted with displays of all the bo’s, katanas, escrima sticks and various other weaponry they trained with. There were even punching bags for use in practicing her punching and kicking suspended from the ceiling on a track and pulley system that allowed them to be moved back out of the way into the corners when not in use. It was a strange combination of martial arts training facility and old New Orleans Victorian charm between the stained glass windows, chandelier, and crown molding that accompanied the training equipment. But they made it work.
Hours later, after Sensei Advinadeto bade her goodbye and took his leave, Solange, exhausted and dripping with sweat, made her way back to the third floor of the mansion to clean up and get ready for dinner. Dinner in their home was a formal affair. Grandmama was a stickler for certain old world traditions, and formality at meals was one of them. Dinner was especially formal since it was the only one Solange attended — all her other meals were small quick eats meant to fuel her during her days of training and were usually taken in the kitchen or in her room between training sessions. For their evening meal, their dinner, all the sisters of the coven living in the mansion were expected to attend if at all possible. Grandmama always had a full meal, three courses at least set out on the huge dining room table. Silverware, fine bone china, and crystal glassware were always used. One didn’t need to dress as though they were entertaining, but one was not expected to show up in sweats and workout gear either.
As Solange moved past Grandmama’s office door, she heard her grandmama’s voice raise to enforce her point as she spoke to whomever was on the other end of the phone line, and paused to listen. “I do not care what your concerns and opinions are. She is not ready. When she is, the choice will be hers.”
Solange listened, almost sure they were speaking of her.
There was a pause before Grandmama spoke again. “I am well aware of your organization, and have been for quite some time. While I respect your mission and your energies, I cannot speak for Solange. She will have to make her own choices when the time comes.”
Another pause. Then, “You are correct, she has trained all her life for exactly the same purpose, but her focus is much more finite. She is interested in only one particular male, not the race as a whole.”
Solange wondered who was speaking to her grandmama, and why they were interested in her and her desired vengeance. No one outside her very small, very private circle, should be aware of her plans.
“I shall keep that in mind, but regardless, the time is not now. If we decide to entertain your offer, we will contact you. Good evening, Gillian.” The line disconnected, and Solange hurried silently up the stairs to her own room before she was caught eavesdropping. Eavesdropping was a major faux pas in the myriad of manners her grandmama had insisted she be raised with along with her routine training. The irony of a young girl being raised to physically be a threat to most all she would encounter, along with the manners of a lady of the aristocratic old south, was not lost on her. It was just another of the idiosyncrasies that made up her life and who she was.
~~~
Gillian Laurant ended the call she’d been on and sat back in her chair. She shook her head disbelievingly and raised both hands to her face to press the heels of her hands against her eyes. She had a tension headache. She was under pressure from headquarters to contribute to the hunt for the vampire who’d become the most prolific, senseless murderer in all the history of E.V.I.E.
E.V.I.E. was the acronym for the organization she worked for. She was in fact the cell director for the New Orleans branch of E.V.I.E. — Eliminate Vampiric Influences Everywhere. And they’d been watching the young great-granddaughter of Marceline De’Mers, head of the LaCelle Coven, as she came into her own. They wanted her for their own missions, their own agendas, and hopefully, if they could manage to get past Marceline to speak to the girl alone, she’d agree they could be beneficial to each other and join them. So far, they’d not been successful. Marceline was a force to be reckoned with, and she was highly protective of her great-granddaughter.
Gillian ground her teeth and pointedly ignored the ringing of the land line sitting on the desk in her office, allowing it to go to voice mail instead. Then her personal cell phone began to buzz, vibrating its way across the slick wooden surface of her desk. Gillian huffed out a sigh and sat forward long enough to snatch her phone off the desk and look at the screen to see who was calling her. Great — it was her boss, Jude. Jude had no sense of humor, at all. Add to that the fact that he’d been riding her ass to get to the bottom of the psychotic vampire they’d been tracking for the last seventeen years, and he didn’t understand Marceline blocking them from access to her great-granddaughter, this was not going to be a happy phone call to answer.
She begrudgingly swiped the screen on her phone to answer Jude’s call. “Jude, how are you?” she asked.
“Did she agree?” he asked bluntly, choosing to ignore all pleasantries.
“She’s only seventeen, Jude. She’s not completed her training, and Marceline refuses to give us access to her to even present ourselves as an option until she feels the girl is ready.”
“Until she feels the girl is ready…” Jude echoed.
“Yes.”
“The girl’s got more training than most of our agents already working on this case! She’s been trained since she was barely able to stand. How much more ready could she get?!” Jude shouted in frustration.
“I know that. But she is still just seventeen years old. And she has a right to make her choices as she grows into adulthood. She can’t be forced into E.V.I.E. if she’s not interested.”