This is a one-off chapter set in the same world but prior to the events of Bloodlust. This chapter can be read as a standalone.
The story takes place at a vampire hunter academy, detailing the relationship between a student and her professor. The fantasy aspects of the story are not the main focus of this chapter, but if that's not your cup of tea, that's alright!
All characters are 18 or older.
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Eve fiddled with the sleeve of her training robes, feeling the rasp of the material against her fingers.
Her training outfit, similar to a gi, allowed her plenty of room to move when practicing her skills. Like her classmates, she was dressed all in white, signifying her status as a student. Recent graduates wore black or brown, and professors wore anything from slacks and button-downs to tactical uniforms. Today, the training room was a flood of brilliant white.
Despite her fidgeting, Eve was not nervous. The opposite, in fact.
There was nothing she looked forward to more than defense classes. Something deep in her bones itched to be on the mats, fighting and grappling with an opponent until they were twisted into each other. She loved it because she was good at it. Her fingers clasped as easily on the hilt of a dagger as around someone's neck. Honestly, she craved it.
Professor Darrow shot her fidgeting hands a look and she immediately dropped them to her sides.
Fidgeting was not only unbecoming of a vampire hunter, but dangerous. He had taught her this year after year, and he did not like to repeat his lessons. Vampires lived a life of stillness and shadow, and there was nothing more likely to trigger their bloodlust than small reminders of mortality, of prey, of the fragility of human life. She tucked her hands into her pockets.
As the remaining students filed into the room for today's class - advanced defense, Eve examined the room, hoping for a hint at what they were doing today. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. No props, no weapons. Only the dark training mats took up most of the floor.
Darrow's classes were hard, and his expectations were even harder, but he was the best they could have. It was rare for him to teach anything below intermediate, preferring to concentrate on his advanced students and those few, brave enough, to seek his attention. Advanced defense really should have been called 'offense' - Darrow encouraged a level of bloodthirstiness that was required to overcome an opponent who would be stronger, faster, and much, much older.
Sometimes Eve felt that he was the only professor who was really preparing them for what waited after graduation. In a little over a month, her class would test their mettle against the real thing.
She exchanged a glance with Luke, who had strolled up beside her and started stretching, "Do you think he's going to announce the term challenge today?"
Luke shrugged, "It would be about the right time."
On Eve's other side, her classmate Leah looked petrified as she whispered, "I've heard every year during the challenge, at least one person dies."
"Only if they don't know what they're doing," Luke assured her. Eve snorted.
They were all expecting the announcement today, from what previous years' classes had told them, and emotions ranged from fear to anticipation.
There had been rumors, of course. She was almost certain that Professor Darrow had not, in fact, killed a student with his bare hands. Almost.
But she could see where the rumors came from. Darrow was tall, broad, and well muscled, with a frightening collection of tattoos that crawled down his arms and up his neck, even curling onto his skull. Eve's own tattoos seemed pitiful in comparison, despite running the length of her arms up to her shoulder blades. As a hunter grew in experience, they acquired more tattoos, allowing them greater access to the small well of magic that they all shared.
She didn't know precisely how long he'd been hunting, but from the location of his tattoos it must have been at least twenty years.
That level of experience was evident in the way he carried himself. His presence was a quiet, intimidating one. Darrow had an intensity in his gaze that seemed to bore into her soul, in a way that made other students break off eye contact immediately. He was unmatched in his intensity, masterful in his concentration, and steady in manner, but when he fought, his movements were fluid, deadly, and true.
Now, as the last student trickled in, he stepped onto the training mats before their class and surveyed them silently.
He was wearing his typical uniform. His tactical pants were dark, with several pockets and holsters, and his shirt was a black, long sleeved button down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing the swirls and designs of his tattoos. His dark brown hair was cut short, revealing hints of the tattoos that marred his skull.
Eve thought he looked good. Very good. Truth be told, she had a bit of a crush on him. But it was only that, a girlish crush. No one knew, and they never would.
When he started to speak, the low hum of conversation in the room fell silent.
"We've been working on combat for the better part of five years. Everyone in this room is here because they meet expectations, but not necessarily because they excel. You all have your weaknesses." He straightened out the sparring mats as he addressed the class. "So after today's class, we're going to have a little challenge."
There it was. What they had all been waiting for. A small cheer rose from the group. The boys, mostly, were eager to show off their skills and win some bragging rights. Eve rolled her eyes at them, but a smile tugged at her lips. Darrow cut them off with a wave.
"As I said, this is going to be a little different. I've seen all of you in a fight, I know your skills, your mistakes, your habits. Every hunter in this room has a unique set of challenges to face as you graduate and enter the real world. Thus, it only makes sense that this final assignment will be different for each of you."
A hush fell at that. It was intriguing, a final test which was unique to the individual. It was also nerve wracking. Eve was confident enough in most of her skills. She had the highest marks in close-quarters combat and knife throwing, and second highest in everything else. Only, he knew her. He knew all of them. So he would know exactly how to work their weaknesses. And now that they were all eighteen, all those pesky liability problems that prevented him from beating them within an inch of death were out the window.
"You will complete your individual task. I'll assess it, and at the end of term, I will give a final score that determines your ability to graduate. This is not a task to be taken lightly. No one will say a word to anyone else about their personal assessment."
He let the weight of his words settle over the room. No one dared breathe, no one dared move. Eve's heart was racing. She felt like she couldn't possibly wait another minute, let alone three weeks, to prove herself.
Darrow's eyes passed over the crowd. "I expect each and every one of you to rise to the occasion, and prove yourselves."
He gave a few more vague details about the timeline for their term challenge, before dismissing them. With typical abruptness, the announcements ended and groups splintered off to go practice.
The rest of the class passed without incident. They sparred in pairs, everyone giving slightly less energy towards their matches than usual, trying to conserve their effort for the challenge to come. Darrow didn't announce any dates or give any specifics, which to them meant only one thing - they had to be ready at any moment. Seeming to sense this, Darrow watched the matches keenly, criticizing any laziness and pointing out mistakes until they were all pushing themselves to the full extent.
Eve was paired with Luke, as usual. She beat him soundly. Then she sparred with two of the better fighters in her class, Arya and Tella. She beat them as well, but by the end of her third match, she was sweating and red in the face. The last win had been a technicality only. She was too exhausted from her first two fights to grapple properly.
When she met Darrow's eyes, he gave her a nod. It was the only recognition he ever offered. But she saw it, and she held onto it, tight, tucking it away inside her.
"That was brutal," Luke commented, as he and Eve slumped against the wall and watched the last few sparring matches come to their end.
"No kidding."
After a moment, he asked, "What do you think we'll have to do?"
She wrinkled her nose, "I bet he'll make you swim through shark infested waters in nothing but a speedo."
"Hey," Luke gave her a shove, and she pushed him back. "I'm serious."
"So am I! How should I know what he has in store? Different for everyone, remember?"
"Different for everyone," Luke repeated in a grumble, "He has higher expectations for you, though. He looks at me like I'm something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Maybe he'll make me clean his office."
"I don't know if I like the sound of high expectations," Eve said, "I can't help but feel like he has something awful in store for me. It's the way he looks at me. The way he's always looked at me. Like he's just waiting for me to crack."
"It must be so hard being the teacher's favorite..."
"You don't get it. I just... I feel like he has something up his sleeve." At his expression, she added, "Luke! He does not eat people, I thought we were past this! I'm sure all of the tests are just some version of fighting that brings your weaknesses to light, or, I don't know, handicaps you in some way."
"So what's my weakness, then?"
Biting back a retort, she tried to give him an honest answer instead, "You don't protect your right side."
He raised his eyebrows, then nodded slowly. "Too bad you don't have any weaknesses. Poor Evie, perfect at everything."
"Don't call me that." Eve gave him another shove, sending him right off the bench and onto the floor.
"Call you what?" Luke said, grabbing her leg and yanking her down on top of him. She kicked him and he laughed, rolling her onto her back and pinning her there. "Evie? Evie?"
"Get off of me." Eve grunted. She could have fought him, but it was useless. She was too tired, and besides, she'd just beaten him in their match. He could probably use the ego boost.
She was still on her back on the ground when Darrow loomed over them. "Is there a problem?"
"No, professor," Luke replied, releasing her immediately and offering her a hand up. She ignored it, sitting up on her own.
"Eve?"
"No problem here, sir." She shook her head, trying not to think of the heat that had flooded her face.
"Then I suggest you gather your things and get ready for tomorrow."
