Van
Van stood at her bedroom window. From here, she could see the spot where Luca parked to avoid her father. He'd been gone by the time she reached her room, but she could still feel his touch against her skin like a brand. Shaking her head, she reminded herself Luca was a distraction- a way to piss off her father. But the way her heart clenched and cracked when she found him crying on the lawn told another story. One she couldn't let be the true version of events.
She let the curtain drop. Father hadn't argued when she said she was staying home from school. In fact, he looked pleased, and if she didn't feel so tired and drained, she would've changed her mind on that fact alone. But she was tired and drained- her brain wouldn't stop trying to process this weekend's revelations.
If it was just emotional exhaustion, she could've pushed on. She understood how to cope with that after losing her mother and little brother, but after two training sessions with Trixie she knew how a punching bag felt. The woman might have a soft heart, at least softer than some of the other soldiers at the Asylum, but that didn't translate to her punches. Or her kicks.
Van sighed, knowing she couldn't put off the next session any longer and headed to the basement. Trixie was waiting for her in the training ring Father had failed to mention when Van moved into the house. Though, she might have accepted its existence with little explanation. The rest of what was in the basement would have sent her running as far as she could make it.
A cold, damp gust wrapped around her as she paused on the bottom step. The space was massive- far bigger than the house above it and cavelike. The feeble light put off by the Edison bulbs didn't reach the corners of the room. Trixie stood on a thick mat in the center of the room, wrapping tape around her hands. She wore what Van know knew to be the standard garb for Slayers- red leathers designed to hide open wounds, withstand sharps nails and claws, and soaked in a solution that could mask the scent of blood.
She didn't pay Trixie any heed. As usual, Van's gaze drifted to the weapons hanging on the dank walls. Weapons that wouldn't have looked out of place in a medieval movie- stakes, knives, maces, swords, and axes. Trixie promised they would get to train with those. She'd practically lit up with excitement as she ran her hands along each weapon, explaining when to use each one. Van just made a mental note to not get on the girl's bad side.
Because it wasn't the weapons Van studied when she came down here. A weapon's purpose was something she could grasp, but the long chains and spiked metal collars didn't compute. Father made it very clear the vampires they kept in cages as the Asylum were for experiments. The best scientists in the world worked for there, searching for a cure. Why would they need something like this for the vampires? It wouldn't do much as a restraint.
She reached for one of the collars, the tips of her fingers heating as they hovered over the metal. Her throat swelled, and breathing became difficult. Eyes watering, she tried to pull away, but she couldn't. She moved like an arrow to its target, and her mouth soured with terror.
"Van," Trixie barked, putting a hand on Van's shoulder to spin her around. "Stop stalling."
"What the hell?" Van demanded, lunging away from the wall and retching onto the floor. She remained in a crouching position, her arm across her stomach and her nostrils filled with the putrid scent of her vomit. The pain and stench were a welcome relief from the all consuming fear she'd just experienced.
Trixie hoisted a leash from its hook. A dark expression twisted her features. The delight the woman found in the weapons wasn't absent, but Van couldn't decipher her trainer's reaction. Was that contempt? Or something closer to the horror Van felt?
"What is that for?" The woman hung the leash back on the wall and returned to her position on the mat. With two fingers, she called Van forward. "You're not going to answer?"
"Your father asked me to train you in combat. Those leashes are none of your concern at the moment."
"How did you even touch that? It made me sick."
Trixie's hands went to her hips, and her eyes were calculating as they bounced from Van to the leash on the wall. But finally, she shook her head. "Until the Supreme chooses to explain that part of our world to you, I can't say anything."
"Why don't we not train today and just say we did?" Van suggested. She knew she couldn't push the woman on the subject of the leashes. Trixie might not be afraid to let her tone show disregard for Abe Helsing, but she drew the line at outright disobedience. She was rule follower- even when she didn't agree with the rules.
"Sure let's."
"Really?"
"Of course. Then, when you're called up for Testing and you fail, I can be thrown into an intake chamber with a hungry vamp."
Van gagged. "Would they do that?"
"Good lord, no. We're not barbarians...not completely." Trixie rolled her eyes. "Then again, you are the Supreme's daughter and his successor. I can't imagine he will accept less than perfect from you."
"His successor?" Van shouted the question.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Trixie counted to ten before marching over to Van and snatching her arm. She dragged the girl to the mat and released her. "Assume your stance."
"I don't really feel like it today. Though, maybe I will if you explain what the hell you meant by successor."
Pain blossomed along Van's cheekbone as Trixie landed a solid hit. It radiated up to her temples, making lights swim through her vision, but as her throat filled with what was left of the contents of her stomach, something snapped inside of her. It was the same something that zinged through her the night she ran from Luca. Fueled by rage and pain- it made her feel stronger, faster. Invincible.
When Trixie swung again, Van ducked, dropping to her left knee while swiping her right leg beneath her opponent's feet. Trixie jumped just in time, but Van was back on her feet, driving her own fist toward the other woman's face. Jab once, twice- each time it was dodged, but the slight widening of Trixie's eyes told Van what she had her trainer off guard.
Minutes passed as they circled one another- both alternating between being on the offensive and the defensive. Van smarted in half a dozen places across her body, but for the first time, she landed a couple strikes of her own. It was satisfying, her knuckles and knees sinking into the soft places on Trixie's body.
Hands went around her throat, squeezing on pressure points as Trixie tried to force her to her knees. Spots flashed, but Van mustered through the pain and haze to drive her elbow down on the other woman's arm until it broke her hold.
Gasping, she threw up her hand to stop Trixie's advance. Her lungs burned, and the pain in her face was overwhelming the fire in her veins. "I need a break."
Trixie nodded, looking winded herself. "Fine. Ten minutes. Get some water. We'll start with strength training next."
Van had a water bottle in her hand before the last word left Trixie's mouth. The cold soothed the needling pain in her throat, but she had to stop every few seconds to drag in a lungful of air.
"Where'd that come from?"
Van put the cap on the bottle and stared at her black tennis shoes for several seconds. "I'm not really sure. When you hit me, I got pissed."
"Hmm."
"Hmm, that's it? I feel like that's a very loaded hmm."
Trixie chuckled and reached behind her head to tighten her ponytail, the action making Van aware of her own disheveled appearance. "Again, I can't say much, but as a Helsing, you have certain gifts. Enhancements unique to your bloodline. That's why the Helsings always lead the Asylum of Light."
Van snorted. "That's absurd. I feel like I would know if I was some sort of wonder woman by now, and I've never been particularly athletic."
"Most of your gifts are suited to combat. Perhaps they'll become more apparent now that you're training. Or maybe they're activated by training. Lowly soldiers aren't privy to what makes a Helsing special."
"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?"
Trixie arched an eyebrow, and the smile she offered to Van made her shiver. "What would make you think that? Why would I be bitter over the fact that some child who has spent her life unaware of the work we do, that will never work even half as hard as I have, will be appointed as my leader one day? That's just silly."
"Girl, I agree with you," Van muttered. "I don't want any of it."
Trixie tossed her water bottle on the table and turned to face her. Cheeks flushed, she hissed, "Now that's what makes me bitter."