by Kailin Gow
“You can’t be too careful,” Aunt Sophie shot back. She looked at Briony. “Never assume that you’re safe. I don’t mean that you should become paranoid, but always be prepared. Danger can be anywhere.”
Briony nodded. She had learned that the hard way the other night.
“What are the swords and crossbows for then?” She asked. “You couldn’t conceal them, except in maybe a bag, and then you wouldn’t be able to get to them in time.”
“They are for when we go hunting for the creatures,” George explained. “At times like that, you don’t have to worry too much about whether people spot the weapons.”
“For now though,” Aunt Sophie put in, “I would like you to concentrate on the easier to hide options, Briony. We can move onto other things once you have learned enough to defend yourself.”
Her great aunt showed Briony some of the best ways to hide weaponry, and how to get to it again in a hurry. Aunt Sophie made a knife appear and disappear with such speed that it was like a conjuring trick, and before long, Briony found that she could at least get to her cross without any trouble. Once she could do that, George suggested that they should move on to some combat techniques.
The first stage of that seemed to be taping layers of padding to Briony, and then encasing her head in something close to a crash helmet. Apparently, they weren’t planning on holding back. George tossed her a simple stick, taking one for himself and starting to circle around Briony. Over the next five minutes, he threw some simple attacks at her, and Briony found herself beginning to enjoy the process of learning to deal with them.
It was at that point that George sped things up a little.
Briony fought and dodged, swerved and parried. For the moment, at least, it was all she could do to manage that, her own stick engaged in a frantic blur of defense that never quite seemed to be fast enough to stop everything. Only the fact that she currently had more padding strapped to her than the average football player kept Briony from being black and blue.
“Oh come on!” Briony complained as George moved in close, lifted her up, and lowered her not entirely gently to the dirt. “How am I meant to deal with this, Aunt Sophie? George is bigger than me, stronger than me…”
“Let’s not forget the unarmed combat training from the army,” George added with a smile, “I was special forces, after all.”
Aunt Sophie shrugged. “Then you’ll just have to dodge that much better, won’t you? Let’s try again.”
That wasn’t really the answer Briony had been hoping for. In fact, almost nothing about the “training” had been what she had expected. Briony had seen people doing martial arts before, and had half-anticipated standing there practicing movements for hours, or learning clever locks and tricks that would let her fling people around with ease. It didn’t seem to be happening so far.
The next round of sparring lasted perhaps ten seconds, before George simply crashed forward, using his greater height and bulk to knock Briony sprawling. She managed to tuck and roll, because there were some things you got good at as a former cheerleader, but even as she got up, Briony found herself knocked down again. This time she decided to stay in the dirt.
“Had enough already?” Aunt Sophie asked lightly.
Briony managed to struggle up to a sitting position. “I can’t see any way to win. I’m just getting knocked around here.”
“I’d prefer to think of it as getting in valuable practice when it comes to falling.” Aunt Sophie paused, and shook her head. “You think that this isn’t fair then, having to fight someone bigger and stronger?”
Briony knew better than to say that. “I know vampires are going to be stronger, Aunt Sophie,” she said instead. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”
Her great aunt helped Briony to her feet. “So you think that the stronger person always has to win? Well, let’s find you a fairer opponent then, shall we? I’m just an old woman, you should be able to overpower me easily enough. Now, want to play?”
Aunt Sophie moved over to the collection of weapons, picking up the swords. She tossed one to Briony, who caught it and experimented with different grips while George strolled back to the porch, leaning against the wall.
“This one is quite a simple game,” Aunt Sophie said. “For now, I am the vampire, and all you have to do is kill me. Or touch me above the heart, or throat at least. I’ll give actually being impaled or decapitated a miss, if you don’t mind.”
She stood there. Just stood there. Briony adopted what she hoped was a suitable fighting stance, edging forwards. Aunt Sophie spread her hands, giving Briony a little smile.
“What are you waiting for, dear?”
Something about that smile infuriated Briony. She lunged, aiming straight for the heart. Aunt Sophie barely had to move to slap the sword aside with her own, and her foot took Briony’s legs from under her. In a second, she was kneeling by Briony, the blade at her throat.
“If you make it obvious that you’re about to fight, then you will lose. The trick is to strike with surprise,” Aunt Sophie paused just long enough to trap Briony’s arm as she tried to bring the sword up. “Real surprise. Nice attempt, Briony. Let’s try again.”
The next attempt saw Aunt Sophie stabbing out, parrying Briony’s blade and thrusting in one motion, placing the point just above her heart.
“Find a way to go on the attack straight away. Vampires do not tire. You cannot wear them down. Every second that the fight goes on is one where they might hurt you more.”
On and on the lesson went, with Aunt Sophie finding new ways to defeat Briony each time. Every time, she would offer Briony some piece of advice, whether it was something simple like “pay attention to what your opponent is doing,” or something specific like “avoid the whole rush of the attack, not just one movement.”
Aunt Sophie didn’t seem to tire, though Briony was rapidly becoming exhausted. Where George had been all speed and aggression, Briony’s great aunt barely seemed to move. Whether it was with the swords, with knives, or simply with her hands, she always seemed to do the bare minimum needed to deal with whatever Briony was doing while at the same time delivering attacks that would have seriously hurt or killed even most supernatural attackers.
Even when Briony got lucky towards the end of the session, and succeeded in grabbing Aunt Sophie as she tripped her, it didn’t make any difference. Her great aunt turned as she fell, scrambled into a better spot, and in seconds had Briony’s arm twisted painfully behind her back.
About the only upside to it all was that Aunt Sophie seemed quite pleased with Briony’s progress, or at least with her willingness to keep going while being steadily beaten up by elderly relatives. When Aunt Sophie finally called a halt to it all, she patted Briony on the shoulder, told her that it was a good start, and then said that she would go fix some dinner if Briony helped George put the weapons away.
Briony nodded gratefully, then set about the work of collecting up knives, swords, and the occasional silver throwing star. Had they used those? Briony couldn’t remember. She was too exhausted from the drubbing her great aunt had given her.
“How did she do all that,” Briony asked George.
The diner owner shrugged. “Sophie has been doing this a long time, remember. I suppose, if you spend your life fighting creatures that want to kill you, then you only survive if you get very, very good at it.”
Briony supposed that made sense, though it was still hard to think of someone who looked like her great aunt being able to throw people around like that. Maybe that was what years of practice did for you.
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fight like that?” Briony asked.
“I don’t know,” George said. “Given time, and practice, and a lot of thought, you’ll certainly get better. But Sophie is something special. You know how people have different talents?”
“Like some will be good at football, and others will play music? That kind of thing?”
“Kind of. Mostly, that’s jus
t a question of interest. I mean, if you work hard enough at something for long enough, you’ll generally get pretty good at it. Some people though, you just know that they are born to do something. Sophie was born to fight. She does it like you or I would walk down the street.” George grinned. “Still, if she says she sees something in you, maybe you’ve inherited the family gift. You’ve just got to work hard to develop it.”
That was reassuring, kind of. Though Briony could think of better areas to be gifted in. And of course, that still left the minor problem in Briony’s case that she had already been attacked by both vampires and werewolves. Would she get the chance to get as good as Aunt Sophie was, or would she find herself killed long before things got that far?
Briony shuddered at the thought.
Chapter 9
Dinner turned out to be a chicken casserole, which George stayed to share, even though Aunt Sophie complained good-naturedly about him eating enough for three people. Briony tasted it and found that it was one of the best things she had tasted. She said as much.
“Sophie’s talents don’t just extend to killing things,” George said, and Aunt Sophie glared at him.
“Well, one of us has to be able to cook properly.”
“Oh, so you won’t be coming in for any more burgers, then?”
“I might,” Aunt Sophie said, “though only to keep an eye on Briony once you give her a job.”
“What?” George asked, and Briony found herself echoing it.
“What?”
“Well,” her great aunt said, “you did drive my car into a tree, dear. And you weren’t even being chased by anything at the time. It’s really only fair that you should pay for the repairs. Besides, it will do you good to work a little, meet new people, and maybe earn a little extra money.”
“And do I get a say in this?” George asked.
Aunt Sophie scooped an extra helping of casserole onto his plate. “Now, George, you know you need the extra help. Jill does her best, bless her, but she can’t be everywhere at once. Young Briony here would be a great help to you after school and at weekends, and you know it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” George said.
“I’m always right.”
Just like that, it was settled. Briony would start work straight away, going back with George when he left the inn. She would work a few shifts after school, as well as helping out on weekends, when things tended to be busier in town. She noticed that at no point had anyone asked her whether she wanted the job. Still, it wasn’t like she particularly minded, the extra money might come in useful, and she did feel kind of bad about crashing her great aunt’s car.
It would have been even better though if Briony had been able to escape the feeling that her aunt was trying to get rid of her for a few more hours each day. Had she done something wrong aside from the car? Was Aunt Sophie finding it hard to have her around? The last thing Briony wanted was to be a burden.
She actually tried bringing up the subject with George in the car back to the diner the next day after practice, but the ex-soldier just shook his head.
“One thing I’ve learned over the years with Sophie is that you shouldn’t try too hard when it comes to second-guessing her motives. She’ll have her reasons.”
“I’m just worried that she doesn’t want me around,” Briony said.
“And what gave you that idea? Sure, Sophie is grieving right now, the same way you are, I’d guess. But that doesn’t mean she wants to get rid of you.” He pulled up to the diner. “Now, let’s get you inside and get you squared away.”
“Squared away” entailed finding Briony a black t-shirt to wear at the diner, which proved to be a little too large, taking her on a guided tour of the kitchen, the storerooms, and the various refrigerators, and introducing her to everyone else who worked there.
Jill was friendly, in an overworked kind of way, finding time to say hello in between dashing around tables, and assuring Briony that she would get the hang of things there in no time. The kitchen provided two other inhabitants of the diner, in the form of Phil and Percy. Phil was the cook, a wiry, tattooed man in his forties with the same brand of close-cropped hair as George. Percy, his nephew, looked to be about twenty, was skinny and had dirty blond hair that desperately needed a haircut. He served as the dishwasher, busboy, and general gofer around the diner.
Her first shift at the diner was a busy one. So was the one after that, and the one after that too. Over the next few days, things fell into a routine. Briony would go to school, where she would spend her time hanging out with Fallon, Maisy, Steve, and occasionally Claire and Tracey if Pepper’s back was turned. After school, Briony would hurry home, get changed, and rush to the diner, where she would work for a couple of hours before heading back to her great aunt. Aunt Sophie would invariably be waiting with dinner, questions about how her day had gone, and a long session of slayer training to get through.
With her days so busy, Briony hardly had time for thoughts of anything else, and maybe that was the point. When being kept so busy, it wasn’t easy to dwell on her family, or on the dangers around Wicked, or even on the fact that Pepper still didn’t like her very much. The cheerleader had come into the diner once since Briony had started, but Jill had dealt with her order. Briony had been relieved to see that, while someone like Pepper would never condescend to pay someone like Jill any attention, she was at least polite.
That was one of the strange things about Briony’s new job. People didn’t look at you, except when they wanted something. Even people she knew from school would hardly say anything while Briony was working. It was the closest thing to invisibility Briony had ever come across, though it did at least mean that she could wander around the tables, picking up fragments of conversation and speculating silently on the people who showed up in the diner.
A lot of them seemed to be regulars, which probably said something about the quality of the food. Others were tourists, passing through on their way to better-known spots around Salem. There were many who would come in with slightly worried looks about the décor, but they would generally leave vowing to return on their way back. Phil and George could certainly cook.
From gossiping with Jill and Percy, Briony learned that Phil had been in the army with George, under his command. Briony guessed that he must have liked it, if he were willing to come and work for him afterwards. Jill, she learned, was an only parent, doing her best to look after her young daughter Sarah while trying to earn enough to get by. Percy mostly seemed to be there because he didn’t have anything better to do, and Phil, as his uncle, felt that he needed something to keep him out of trouble. Briony couldn’t help thinking about what Aunt Sophie had to think about her at that point.
Things went well at the diner. Briony even found that she liked the busy times there, when bigger crowds started to come in and everyone would have to work together to get food out onto the tables. Briony quickly got the hang of all the small jobs that needed doing around the place, and of dealing with customers of all stripes.
Though there were some odd ones.
It was on her first Saturday there that a trio of college students came in, choosing a table near the window. There were two guys and a girl, all older than Briony, and all a little wild-looking. The girl in particular had frizzy brown hair, big, dark eyes, and the kind of casually clashing clothes that you only got when you threw things on at random. Of the young men, one was wearing a plaid shirt open over a white t-shirt and jeans, and spent most of his time taking his lead from the other, who was a little better dressed, his polo shirt and slacks giving him an almost preppy look.
“Are you ready to order?” Briony asked, summoning up her nicest smile.
“We’ll have three burgers, raw,” the girl said.
Briony nodded and rushed off to give their order to Phil, though she amended “raw” to “rare”, deciding that she couldn’t have heard it properly. After all, who would eat raw hamburger? When the meals were ready, Briony took them out
. The diner was starting to fill up again. A few regulars were dotted around the place now, and Briony could already guess what they would order. As she put the plates down, she was already calculating how best to get through them.
“Enjoy your meal.”
There was one new face, in the form of a guy about the age of the three Briony was currently serving. He was very handsome, with dark-hair flowing down to shoulders obviously broadened by plenty of working out, a strong jaw, and vivid hazel eyes that seemed to brood under all that hair. He instantly moved to the top of Briony’s to-serve list.
“Hey! This is cooked!”
Briony was torn from her thoughts by that, from the girl at the current table.
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“You should be, you stupid little-”
“Carol,” one of the guys tried. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? I asked for mine raw, and this idiot can’t even get that right. I should-”
“Here,” the young man said, “have mine. It’s still nice and pink.”
That mollified the girl a little, and Briony flashed a smile in the hopes of defusing things further.
“I’ll go and bring you another burger, if you like. I’m sorry, I didn’t think that you’d want it quite that raw.”
“That’s what we said wasn’t-”
“Carol.” This time the college guy held up a hand. “It’s an easy mistake to make. Another burger would be great, thanks.”
Briony went off to get it, fetching drinks too, on the house to make up for the problem. That got no more than a grunt from the girl there, though the two guys nodded. Job done, Briony went off to serve the others there. The good-looking college guy was definitely next. He smiled as Briony approached.
“Some people don’t know how to control their tempers, do they?”
He ordered a salad. Briony went to give Phil the order, and he took it before jerking his head towards one of the kitchen’s garbage bags.
“You couldn’t take that outside, could you? I haven’t had the chance, and Percy doesn’t seem to be around today. I tell you, I worry about that boy sometimes.”
