Page 22 of Grave Beginnings

I bit my tongue to keep from asking if he was one of them and followed him into the room. Angel led the way into the gym—a sprawling space filled with equipment, a giant section in the middle with sparring mats, and a lot of folks in the middle of workouts. Everyone looked human. Some had glowing armbands. Others didn’t.

Wade waved us over to a large woman with a very butch haircut who was loading a bench press with over five hundred pounds on each side of the bar. Could anyone lift that? She was only slightly smaller than Wade, with more defined muscles.

“This is Kerry,” Wade said.

“You want me to spar with her? Are you trying to kill me on my first day?”

Kerry gave me a wide smile that looked more than a little feral. She didn’t have an arm band. “It’s okay, smallz. I got you.” An aura of color shifted around her for a half second and suddenly she was my size. Same haircut and face, slimmer body, but just as well-muscled for her smaller form.

“Holy fuck,” I said, glancing at Wade. “Maybe you can teach me to magic my size.” I flushed, realizing how that sounded and glanced down. “Thatdoesn’t need help with size.”

Kerry laughed, the sound of her voice a melodic dance thatmade my skin tingle. WTF? I shivered. Was that what Angel meant about the lines being blurred?

“Kerry’s a succubus,” Angel said as he patted me on the back, then shoved me toward an open area of the sparring mats.

“Succubus? You mean, a sex demon?” I half tripped over my own feet trying to get onto the padded mat and look at her at the same time. “Does it work if I’m not into girls?” I asked as I waved my hands. “I mean, I like girls just fine. I just don’tlikelike girls, if you get what I mean. My best friend is a girl… woman. You know what I mean?”

She smiled. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Angel crossed his arms and leaned against a ceiling support pillar; his gaze intense. Or maybe that was all in my head. Did he have a master’s in sexy leaning?

I ducked a half heartbeat in time to avoid a fist to the face. Kerry wasn’t playing. “Cat got your tongue, rookie?” she teased, throwing a nod in Angel’s direction.

“Ha. I wish,” I said, dancing around a half dozen more punches and a few well-placed kicks. The girl had moves. “I don’t hit girls.”

“Then I’ll knock you on your ass.”

Wade stood at the edge of the mat, obviously assessing. The more I dodged —even flipping backward to roll away from a kick in a move that reminded me of Keanu Reeves bullet-dodging—the more folks gathered around.

“Hit me,” Kerry demanded.

“Lots of dancing, pretty boy,” Angel said. “Going to actually fight soon?”

“She’s a girl,” I said, dodging another half-dozen blows.

“I’m not really,” Kerry said, landing a kick to my midsection that knocked the breath out of me. I gasped and dropped to my knees, rolling at the last second to avoid a punch to the head while I tried to find air. She hit the mat, narrowly missing my faceas I swerved right and rolled back to my feet, half flipping to get out of her range.

“Damn, girl, you need to teach my best friend some of these moves,” I cursed as she kept coming, reaching up to grip my hair—that I countered by grabbing her wrist, twisting to deliver a kick which met her thigh instead of her groin, as if she’d expected it. She swung with her other fist, not letting go of my hair even as I twisted her arm near breaking. I slipped lower, using her momentum to offset her balance, and kicked her right knee out from under her.

She fell, taking me with her, then rolled, shoving me beneath her. I swung my legs up to wrap around her throat and threw her off. She caught herself, landing on her feet.

“You’re quick,” she said. “But you still haven’t hit me.”

I groaned. “No one told me there would be a physical exam the first day. I haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I’m sure some variant shifter gang is going to care that you’re hungry. Maybe gethangry,then.”She shifted into her original form, a foot taller and probably a hundred pounds of muscle heavier.

“Holy Hulk!”

“Will you hit me now, pretty boy?”

“Why does everyone call me that?” I asked as I dodged a half dozen more punches and a roundhouse. I focused on her moves: the favoring of her right foot, her bulk. She was fast, quicker than any opponent I’d ever sparred with, but I’d learned to use small to my favor a long time ago.

“Won’t be so pretty when I smash your face.”

“Rude!” I said, and leapt as though I intended to latch onto her middle. Instead, I curled into a roll. She missed a swing, I slipped past her, jumped, and delivered a full-body double kick to her back, sending her flying off the mat.

She grunted as she caught herself. “Still not a hit, pretty boy,” she said, turning to face me “But you’re clever.” Then she came atme so fast it was a blur. I was on my back with her holding me down, hand to my throat, body checking me to the floor. I gasped for air, staring up into her eyes, which swirled with silver and black.