A week had passed since Theo had placed the wards on her mind, and Eve could finally accept that she was free of Ari's influence. Finally, she was alone in her head, with no meddling vampires, warlocks, or anyone else with unpleasant intentions.
Pending a conclusion to the investigation, she and Luke were still withdrawn from active duty and instead had been assigned as demonstrators for the younger classes. Maybe it was a punishment for their failures, or maybe the academy was just short on teaching staff.
Luke looked strangely impassive, leaning against the wall of the training room with his eyes focused straight ahead. A cautious, withdrawn shadow had crossed over him these last few days.
"Good afternoon, hunters," Professor Darrow's voice cut through the crowded room, "Today, we're diving into the practical side of what you've been learning all year. It's time to see those theories put into action."
Eve forgot how much she had missed Professor Darrow. Between him and Ramsey, she had grown up with a strong sense of purpose and a solid head on her shoulders. He wasn't the paternal type - but he had the uncanny ability to put people on edge and inspire respect at the same time. Even as a graduated hunter with successful kills under her belt, she didn't want to disappoint him.
His tall, heavily built frame gave him an instant air of authority. His hair was cropped close to the skull, revealing tattoos crawling across his scalp that were difficult to make out. To someone who didn't know him well, he was intimidating. To someone who did, he was petrifying.
"Eve and Luke," Darrow continued, "Are here to help us understand the real-world applications of the techniques and concepts you've been honing this year. They are both recently graduated hunters who have been on several successful missions."
Eve and Luke exchanged glances. As they took their positions on the training mats at the center of the room, the class hushed in anticipation. The temperature in the room was oppressive, students already beginning to strip their coats and shoes off.
Professor Darrow stood several paces away from them, his gaze sharp.
Darrow addressed them, "It's not just about overpowering your opponent but about knowing when to yield and when to strike."
Eve felt hot. Unlike the class, garbed in white, she and Luke were wearing black, a symbol of their graduated status. Eve was dwarfed by the wide sleeves of her uniform, the legs of her pants loose around her ankles. A thick leather belt encircled her waist, cinching together the copious fabric and sporting a large collection of knives. She pulled a particularly wicked, curved blade into her hand.
Luke and Eve began to circle each other, looking for an opening. At Darrow's prompting, they engaged in a series of moves he had discussed with them beforehand -- blocks, strikes, and evasions. The room resonated with the echo of their footsteps and the slice of steel flying through the air.
"Observe closely," Professor Darrow instructed, his voice cutting through the intensity. "Eve demonstrates a wrist-lock, a fundamental move to restrain your opponent without causing harm. Luke, counter with a disarming technique."
Eve's movements were swift, her body fluid and highly practiced. Luke, in turn, was powerful but unfocused, letting his weight crash in full behind each of his moves. The students watched, absorbing the nuances of each move. Eve eased up on Luke, unsure if he was out of practice or afraid to hurt her.
Luke lunged, aiming for Eve's knife. His balance shifted too far forward, giving her an opportunity to maneuver beneath his arm. He fell to the floor with a soft grunt, his breath leaving his chest.
Professor Darrow commanded. "Again."
Eve and Luke rose and reset their positions. This time, Eve moved more quickly, forcing him to react defensively. She struck, landing the hit on his wrist and following with her other arm to disarm him. His knife skidded across the mats and out of reach.
"Ground combat," Darrow said, directing their attention to the mat. "No weapons. Eve, Luke, let's see your proficiency in close-quarters combat." Eve wondered if the professor was deliberately challenging Luke.
They discarded all their weapons. Eve fixed her ponytail. She gave Luke a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. He looked back at her and gave a nod in return.
Professor Darrow nodded with approval, "Now pay attention, see their communication? Trust between hunting partners is crucial. Even if, in this case, they're fighting each other."
Luke moved first and she was ready for him, blocking his attack with ease. Eve's eyes flashed, her lips slowly curling into a grin. The excitement of a good fight quelled any concerns she might have had. She struck out hard, landing a solid hit against Luke's shoulder.
"Nice one," he grunted, shaking his head.
Eve whispered, "You're going easy on me, Luke. I know you can do more than that."
Luke assented, moving in faster than she could react and sending her off balance. He tackled her to the ground. They wrestled, struggling for control. The air was thick with excitement, the students holding their breath as they watched the match. Luke managed to pin Eve, straddling her and pressing his forearm against her throat.
"Well done," Darrow said.
Eve responded with lightning-fast motion. She grabbed his free wrist, trapping one of his feet with her foot on the same side. He tried to wrench out of her grip but she bridged her hips up, rolling him onto the side where she had his limbs trapped. He fell to the floor with a thud, their positions reversed. Her hips now straddled his, her thighs locking his arms in place.
"I see you haven't forgotten what I taught you," Professor Darrow praised her.
Eve was breathing hard, her weight settled squarely on Luke, who was regarding her with a faint smile. She quickly released him and got up, smoothing the dark fabric of her uniform. She offered him a hand and he took it after a moment of hesitation. His skin was hot and sweaty.
Darrow watched in approval. "Eve demonstrated how to take an opponent down from a disadvantageous position. For most of you, if you're in this position, your goal is to disengage. If that's not possible, an aggressive maneuver will work but you need to be willing to utilize that position of power. Now, if Luke were a vampire, he'd be incapacitated right now."
"He would be dead," Eve added, earning a small laugh from some of the students.
Darrow ran a hand across his stubble. "One final sparring match," he said, "Luke, stand back. I want the students to see how well Eve can hold her own."
The students murmured in excitement as Darrow himself kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the mat.
He rolled his sleeves up above his elbows, revealing heavily-scarred forearms. His face was impassive, and Eve couldn't tell if he was actually taking pleasure in this or not. He stood nearly a foot taller than her, his form imposing. She stretched her arms and legs, feeling her heart thumping into gear.
She'd never fought a professor before, and it was considered a sign of great respect to be paired against one. Other than minor adjustments or demonstrations, fighting instructors didn't step onto the mats. Eve flushed as she considered the position she'd been put into. A loss would hurt her reputation, but a victory would be the greatest insult she could afford him. He expected her to lose. Her mind raced: so why had he challenged her? To put her in her place? To test her? Or was it really just a demonstration?
He'd been her instructor for seven years; he already knew exactly what she was capable of. Most of the professors prized her as one of their best students, so it had come as a surprise to the entire academy that she of all hunters would have failed a mission so completely. It was possible that he wanted to understand what went wrong. With his analytical mind, she supposed he was looking for weaknesses in her technique, a chink in the armor that had allowed Ari to prevail.
The crowd was quiet, all eyes focused on the match. They'd all presumably heard about the incident with Ari, and had wanted to see this disgraced hunter with their own eyes. She had something to prove. Eve took a deep breath to steady herself. She reminded herself that she'd been in more dangerous situations than this.
"Whenever you're ready," Professor Darrow said.
With that, she launched into motion, her steps swift. Darrow matched her moves easily, and they circled each other. He struck hard and she barely managed to block him, his arm slamming into hers and knocking her off-balance. She could tell by his movements that he wasn't pulling his punches.
She lunged and feinted to the side, trying to bait him. He saw through it immediately. His swing caught her by surprise, his fist connecting hard with her stomach. She bit her lip to avoid crying out, giving him a wide berth as she recovered her senses. She could taste the iron tang of blood.
He struck out again, and this time she was able to dodge, using the momentum to kick him. She aimed for his thigh, hoping the contact would make him lose his balance. Instead, his other hand shot out, gripping her ankle. He yanked, her leg swept out from under her. She fell, her knee smacking against the mat, pain lancing up her spine.
She rolled onto her knees and stood too quickly. She swung for him again, still unsteady on her feet, and he easily sidestepped it and clipped her on the cheek. She was getting frustrated, her attacks proving fruitless against his strength and training. He wasn't even breaking a sweat.
"If this were a real fight, you would be dead by now," Darrow commented. Eve's hands balled into fists at her side.
She steeled her quickly then took a risk, darting straight towards him. No feinting, no tricks. She used her speed to duck under his arm, swinging around and aiming a blow at his kidney. The contact was solid, and she heard his grunt of pain.
He responded with no mercy, his elbow striking her back and knocking her flat. She cried out as she hit the ground with his weight crashing down on top of her. They grappled for a moment, Eve at a disadvantage from the surprise, until he had her crushed beneath him on the floor. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She could smell his sweat now, musky and sharp. He had one hand clutched at her throat, fingers pressing into the grooves of her jugular.
He leaned in, his voice meant for her ears only, "Do you yield?"
Her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth clenched. He tightened his grip on her throat, his other hand forcing her wrists behind her back, not allowing her to pull away. The room was suddenly silent, everyone's attention focused on the two of them.
Eve felt her vision blur slightly, dark spots appearing. She tried to wiggle out from under him but she couldn't think straight with her brain scrambling for oxygen.
