Anita Blake - Bullet Part 32
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"You needed it," Nathaniel said. There was a sheen of sweat on his face. I'd never seen the three of them so winded from running with me. I'd always felt before that they held back because I was with them, but not today.
Nicky came over to us. He didn't say anything, just came to stand with us instead of the other guards.
"I need some tape, some gloves, and a bag," I said.
Nicky turned and went in search of what I'd asked. Was it arrogance to a.s.sume that, or had he just taught me that he did exactly what I asked?
"You want to work the heavy bag after that run?" Ares said.
I laughed, still waiting for my pulse to find a normal rhythm. "See, no stamina."
"If you can do the bag after this, so can I."
"Have you seen her hit a heavy bag?" Lisandro asked.
Ares looked puzzled. "No."
"Are you going to try to keep up with her?" Lisandro asked.
"If I say yes, then what?"
"We'll start taking bets." That Lisandro would say it, and not G.o.d, or Dino, or Graham, said that Ares had been snotty with more than just me. It wasn't just me being a girl and small, it was him.
"How do we score it?" I asked.
"Stamina," Lisandro said. "Loser quits first."
Ares looked at Lisandro and then to me. He was frowning as if trying to see something that he was missing. "You've never seen me work the heavy bag."
"No," Lisandro said, "but I've seen her."
Again, Ares looked at me. "She can run; that doesn't mean she can hit."
Lisandro shrugged. "If you think you can outlast our negra gat.i.ta negra gat.i.ta, put your money where your mouth is."
"What does that mean? Negra Negra is black, but I don't know the second word." is black, but I don't know the second word."
"It means black kitten black kitten," I said, with my pulse almost even again.
Ares studied me. "And you're okay with them calling you their black kitten?"
"They're wererats, Ares," I said.
He frowned at me.
"They're not calling me their little black rat. Think it through," I said. I went to find some tape for my wrists and some gloves.
CHAPTER 37
THE BAGS WERE in a smaller room off the main area. Ares and I were taped up and gloved, and I had pads on my feet and s.h.i.+ns, too. We had a heavy bag apiece, close to each other, but not too close. We weren't just going to be using our upper body on the bag, or I wasn't. If you're going to kick a bag, you need more room.
Ares made fun of the fact that I was wearing padding on my legs and feet. I ignored him and started hitting the bag. I punched like I'd been taught: Lead with your shoulder, your whole body turning into it and that twist of the wrist at the end, and aiming not to hit the bag, but to hit through the bag to the other side. You always visualized whatever blow, throw, or any force as a few inches deeper. The goal was always through your target, not on top of it.
Ares worked the bag the way he'd run, fast out of the box, heavy hitting, trying to make the bag move. I started slower, getting a feel for it, hitting fists, arms, working in close, then out. I started kicking, trying to kick through the bag. The last time I'd worked on the bag, Haven had been on the other bag. I pushed the thought away and kicked using the side of my leg, the front, switching legs.
Ares was flashy. I was punis.h.i.+ng. He made his bag move more, but mine moved. His combinations were faster, but it wasn't about fast, it was about lasting. I let the world narrow down to the bag, to my fists, my feet, my legs, my arms, my body getting up close with the bag and hitting those short jabs, the knee work you needed to use if you had to fight your way clear of a grapple.
My pulse was in my throat, sweat running down my body, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. I started fumbling at the pads on my legs.
Ares said, "Pay up," in a triumphant voice.
"I'm not quitting," I said. "I just want the pads off my legs."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I need it," I said.
Nicky helped me unfasten the leg protection without a word, or a question. Without the padding, every blow of my leg on the bag jolted more, sc.r.a.ped more. I tucked my arms in close to my body and kicked, first one leg and then the other, over and over. I picked one leg and kicked over and over until the bag moved for me and my leg felt bruised, and then I changed legs. When my legs started to hurt through all the endorphins, I moved in and used my hands and the gloves. I punched, hit, threw elbows and every other part of me into the bag. I forgot about Ares, I forgot about the bet, I forgot about everything but the bag in front of me and hitting the s.h.i.+t out of it.
The world started graying out, my vision going in starbursts. Exhaustion miasma ate the edges of the world. I grabbed the bag with both arms and leaned so I didn't fall down. All I could hear was my blood thundering in my head. I blinked, trying to clear my vision. I blinked and through the stars and gray I saw that the other bag was empty. Ares was sitting against the wall. I'd won.
I let myself slide down the bag to my knees and put my head down. The world was still gray with white starbursts. I needed water, or something with more electrolytes. Or maybe I just needed to pa.s.s out. I put my head between my legs to see if I could keep that from happening.
I felt a hand on my back and knew it was Nathaniel before I heard him say, "You okay?"
"Yeah," I heard myself say, and it was mostly true. I got to all fours, my head still down. Nathaniel started to take my arm and I just looked at him.
He sat back on his knees and said, "No one here would think less of you if I helped you stand."
"I would," I said.
He sighed but didn't try to help me as I debated on whether I could stand.
"You won't be in the practice ring with me today. You won't be able to lift your arms enough to use a knife."
I turned slowly to find Fredo in the doorway. I had to fight to focus on him through the gray and white. "Rain check," I said.
He smiled. "You're on."
I heard Lisandro say, "See, negra gat.i.ta negra gat.i.ta."
Ares said, "I get it. Cats eat rats, and you're calling her a cat."
"We're calling her our our cat," Lisandro said. cat," Lisandro said.
I crawled to the wall and put my back against it while I waited for my vision to clear and fought not to throw up. People with nifty nicknames like negra gat.i.ta negra gat.i.ta didn't puke from exhaustion and dehydration, or we tried not to. didn't puke from exhaustion and dehydration, or we tried not to.
CHAPTER 38
FRESHLY SHOWERED, FRESHLY dressed, with guns and knives back in place, I was ready to meet the gold weretigers. Or as ready as I was going to be, because honestly, I still didn't want to. I had enough men in my life. I didn't want more. I wasn't monogamous, that was okay, but there's not being monogamous and there's having so many men in your life that you can't possibly do justice to any of them. I was either at that point, or perilously close, and now we were going to add more. It just sounded like a bad idea to me.
Nathaniel had made me drink a Powerade from the cooler near the locker rooms, but he'd also insisted on stopping at the kitchen so he could make me a protein shake. They were designed to replace things a hard workout would take out of you, and the interesting thing was if you didn't need the shake, it tasted bad, but if your body needed it, chocolate tasted like chocolate. It tasted very good today.
I sat at the small kitchen table while Nathaniel and Nicky made shakes for all of us, including Stephen and Gregory. Dino had dressed and come with us, leaving Fredo to do knife practice with the other guards. He was our teacher for short-blade work. For sword work it was Wicked and Truth. The sword training wasn't mandatory for the wereanimal guards, but it was for the vampires, because it was still possible to be called out in an old-fas.h.i.+oned duel. Besides, Fredo was right, most people were afraid of knives, and a sword is just a d.a.m.ned big knife. Truth had told me once that the only thing people fear more than a sword is an axe. He'd actually offered to teach the guards axe work, but there weren't enough takers for a regular cla.s.s.
I sat and sipped my shake and thought nothing. It was like a roaring emptiness in my head. It reminded me almost of the place my head went when I killed. It told me better than anything else that whatever was wrong with me wasn't fixed. I was warm and showered and stretched and even achy from the heavy bag, but I wasn't all right. I was better, but that's not the same thing as being all right. I thought the thought, and then I let it go. I used to hold on to thoughts like that, like hiding dirty clothes under the bed, but now I just let the thought go. I didn't judge it or worry at it; I just thought it and let it drift away.
My phone was ringing. I knew it was my phone because it was vibrating in my back pocket, but it was playing "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent. When I slid the phone open it turned out to be Micah's ring tone.
"Hey, Micah," I said.
"Are you feeling any better?"
That was an easy answer. "Better, yes."
"Nathaniel let us know that you were done with your workout. I'm sorry I missed it."
"You were busy shopping for weretigers," I said, and my voice was oddly uninflected, so that what I'd meant to be humorous wasn't.
"We've narrowed it down," he said.
"How narrow?" I asked, and still I didn't really care.
"Three."
"The girl is one of them," I said.
"Yes, do you mind?"
I shrugged, realized he couldn't see it, and said, "It's fair, and G.o.d knows we have enough men."
"Okay, we're in the living room when you can get here."
"We're getting a protein shake in the kitchen, then we'll be there."
"You don't seem to care, Anita."
"I don't."
"You should feel something about this. We are shopping to keep one or more of them."
"We're keeping them all here at the Circus for their own safety. You're just picking which ones we're going to try to sleep with," I said.
"Usually, you get angry about this, or embarra.s.sed, but I'm not sensing anything from you."
"There isn't much to sense right now," I said.
"Have the Atlanta police called back?" he asked.
"Not yet."
"We'll be waiting for you."
"We'll be there."
"You and Nathaniel?"
"And Dino and Nicky," I said.
"Anita, I love you."
"I love you, too," I said, but even that didn't have much feeling to it. I felt like something had died inside me, something that let me feel was just gone.
We hung up, but a few minutes later Nathaniel's phone rang with the same song, and since he had put the ring tone on my phone I was pretty sure Micah was calling him to check up on me. Once upon a time it would have annoyed me, but I was being difficult. Maybe in a different way from my normal difficult, but this att.i.tude wouldn't exactly win over the weretigers. But honestly, I was all out of wanting to impress anyone.
Nathaniel went to the edge of the kitchen and spoke low, and again, I just didn't care.
The chocolate shake thingie was down to the slurpy dregs. I went to the sink, unscrewed the top, and started rinsing it out. We'd discovered that if you left the drink in the screw-top cups that helped stir them up, you never really got the cups clean. The remains of the protein powder solidified in the cracks and crevices, and you just had to throw out the cup. I cleaned it, then put it on the draining board beside the sink. The movements felt automatic. It let me know that my arms were still a little shaky from trying to beat the heavy bag into submission. I should have felt good about outlasting Ares on the bag. I should have been excited about the run and my all-time personal best on the track, but I wasn't. I wasn't unhappy with it, but I wasn't happy, either.
Nathaniel said, "I'll clean it for you."
"It's done," I said.
He touched my arm, then turned me to look at him. "Anita, what do you want to do?"
I blinked at him. "I don't understand the question."
"What would make you feel better?" He leaned his b.u.t.t against the sink, and looked nifty in his black jeans and black T-s.h.i.+rt. I realized that from the boots to the clothes, we were both dressed like we'd started the night in the same closet. We matched. He'd probably laid out my clothes for me today, so I shouldn't have been surprised. I stared down at the s.h.i.+rt and realized it was low-necked, not as much as some I owned, but enough that there was a lot of creamy goodness going on in the front of my s.h.i.+rt. The moment I realized I hadn't really seen what I was wearing all day, that sort of scared me.
"Am I in shock?" I asked.
He laid his hand over mine where I was gripping the sink. "I'm not sure, but I think it hurt you to have to . . . kill Haven." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. I kept gripping the sink and stayed stiff in his arms. He laid his head against my hair. "Anita, please, talk to me."
Anita Blake - Bullet Part 32
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Anita Blake - Bullet Part 32 summary
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