Scenes From Buffalo: Part Three

Part Three. Spoilers for Golden Eagle. 

“Watch my body,” Trina instructed. “Not my hands. My body will tell you where I’m going next – the way I shift my weight. The knife is a distraction.” A wicked, serrated hunting number waited to strike in her right hand, held horizontally, its jagged edge gleaming.

“Who taught you that?” Anna asked from the sidelines, a grin in her voice.

Trina smirked. “Family friend.” Then she moved.

Mia’s eyes wanted to catch on the knife; that was the threat. She remembered – just as she did every night in her dreams – the awful bite of hot metal piercing her skin. The bullets that had bit through flesh and lodged in bone; remembered the sharp scent of her own blood pouring out of her body. She’d felt her strength slip away, a little more with each weakening heartbeat. She’d wanted to sleep, by the end, just before Fulk shoved his wrist under her nose. Just close her eyes, and drift off to a place where it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

But that was then, and Trina was coming at her now, knife flashing.

Her body reacted before she could think, instinct kicking in. She dodged, and then dodged again, when Trina gave chase. Danced backward across the concrete of the garage they were using as a makeshift gym. She was faster, more agile; each step took her farther than it would have when she’d been mortal; she felt energy and strength coiled spring-tight in all her muscles. Her body was a wonder now.

But how to use it: that was the question.

“What if she was a vampire?” Anna said. “Or a wolf? What if she was as fast as you? You can run – but not from everybody.”

They’d turned a full circle, and Mia kept retreating. Trina was coming quicker, now, jogging to catch up, knife still gripped tight. She looked competent with it; like she would know how to use it if they got close enough for the chance.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mia said, feeling frustrated, even though she thought she shouldn’t have. She was a novice when it came to self-defense, and they all knew it. But her face burned with embarrassment, regardless. They’d demonstrated for her earlier, ways to disarm someone wielding a knife. Done it four times, until she’d nodded and said okay, I’ve got it. She couldn’t hold her ground. Couldn’t make herself stand still and meet the attack.

“Are you afraid?” Anna asked. “Even if she stabs you, it won’t do any real damage. You can heal from almost anything.”

“I’m not afraid,” Mia said through gritted teeth, still retreating. Sweat formed at her temples; the air burned in her throat.

“Then why are you running?”

A growl echoed off the cinderblock walls, and Mia realized the sound had bubbled up out of her chest.

Trina swapped the knife to her other hand and lunged forward, swiping with the blade.

Mia dodged.

“Why was it different with Dr. Fowler?” Anna asked, maddeningly calm, out of character, really. “What pushed you over the edge? Why weren’t you afraid of him?”

Another lunge and dodge.

Mia growled.

“Was it because he was unarmed? Or because he was old?”

Trina stabbed at her.

Mia growled and caught her wrist.

It happened in a flash, her own hand a blur. Somehow, she’d judged the timing right: now clenched Trina’s wrist in a white-knuckled grip, the knife twisted uselessly off to the side; it hadn’t so much as grazed her. She knew, if she pressed a little harder with her thumb, that Trina’s hand would spasm and she’d drop the knife. Mia could feel the tendon wanting to give already. Just a little more, and she’d have her disarmed. A little more after that, and she could snap the bone, leave her one-handed, and helpless, and…

Mia gasped and let go. Stepped back. Shocked by her own thoughts.

“I don’t…I didn’t…I’m sorry…”

But Trina grinned. “That was good.” To Anna: “I think we’ve just gotta get her angry enough, first.”

Anna laughed.

Mia’s first instinct was to growl – so she turned around and paced away from them, bringing her hands up to her face and deep-breathing through her cupped palms. She could smell Trina’s skin, where she’d touched her; her sweat. Could imagine the taste of blood…

She whirled around, and saw she’d crossed the garage; a dozen paces separated them now. She hadn’t meant to go so far, but it was for the best, given the growl trapped behind her breastbone. “I don’t want to be angry,” she said, when she felt like she had her voice under control. “That’s not…I shouldn’t…”

“Mia,” Trina said, firmly, her smile falling away. “When we first got here, I asked you if you regret what happened with Dr. Fowler.”

The growl pulsed out, just a little rumble.

“Did you change your mind about that?”

She closed her eyes – though that was a mistake, because she could see it play out all over again. Her fingers remembered the exact resistance of his throat. Her ears recalled the sound of his skull fracturing.

Remembered, and felt satisfied. She wanted to feel sick over her own bloodthirstiness, but she couldn’t; she just couldn’t.

She opened her eyes on a deep exhale. “No.”

“Good!” Anna said, grinning. “You don’t need to! Be glad that fucker’s dead and let’s celebrate.”

Trina sent her a faintly amused glance.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Are we gonna stand around – while you’re holding a knife, thanks very much – and pretend to be nice? Should we have a tea party? God, Val would probably love that,” she said in an undertone. “The little cups.” She mimed holding one, rolling her eyes again, and Mia found herself biting back a smile.

“But, listen,” she continued. “Yes, killing’s not great on the face of it.” She flapped a hand to say yeah, yeah. “But we’re not murderers. We’re–”

“Monsters?” Mia guessed.

Anna’s expression froze; her gaze focused in on Mia with a tight, unmistakably lupine intensity. It would be so easy to forget what she was – but then she’d remind you. They all had that in common, Mia supposed.

“That’s what mortals would call us,” Anna said, tone serious now. “If they knew we existed. They would say we were freaks. That we’re unnatural. You saw what the Institute wants us for: to strap us down, and drug us, and arm us up and send us at their enemies. They want to study us. We aren’t people to them.”

“You did what you had to,” Trina said, softer.

Anna’s face was stern, though. “It felt good killing him because he needed killing. You’re angry because you can afford to be now: no more playing nice to keep safe; no more keeping quiet so no one will hurt you.”

Her tone shifted, and her gaze drew inward, eyes glazing. Before the words left her mouth, Mia had the sense she was repeating something someone had told her long ago. “Women endure pain because they have to. It’s how they survive. But now your arms are as strong as your heart. It’s time to stop enduring pain, and start dealing it.”

Silence afterward. It seemed to echo.

Mia swallowed. “Did Fulk tell you that?”

Anna twitched a small, pained smile. “My brother-in-law, actually.” She took the knife from Trina. “Let’s go again.”