Chapter Two

Brook stepped out of the school van ahead of Genna. "I am so nervous! I'll drop my sword in the first match."

Genna swung her bag to her shoulder. "I just hope I make it through mine. Have you seen the other saber fighters? They're huge!"

"Genna, you hold your own against me." Brook hadn't heard Stefan approach, but Genna, of course, wasn't surprised. "They'll be a walk in the park." He looked across the parking lot at the team from Hampden-Sydney, a group of burly males, each easily a foot taller than her. "Well, not a walk in the park, but I could beat them, meaning you should be able to at least have a good showing."

"Your confidence in me is astonishing." She hefted her sword bag. "They're going to leave me in a little broken pile on the mat."

"Don't embarrass me." The tremor that Stefan had come to think of as normal and that Genna was starting to get accustomed to alerted them to the other Immortal's approach. "Tyrus," Stefan said, hoping the irritation wasn't obvious in his voice. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I had to show up and support my old student and his star pupil." The Templar grinned, and as usual the expression was less than pleasant.

"Thanks for the support." Genna tried to sound pleasant, but she didn't like the tone of his voice.

"Not at all." He turned to Stefan. "Good luck today." He extended a hand, and Stefan hesitated, just a moment, before taking it.

"I don't like him," Genna muttered as Tyrus walked away.

Brook shrugged. "He might not be a talker..but who wants a talker?"

"It's not that. He's up to something." Genna started into the gym, following the signs for the girl's locker room. "It makes me nervous."

"Why are you so weirded out? He's gorgeous, and he seems nice. He's as good with a sword as Stefan is-"

Genna dropped her bag and grabbed her friend's arm. "No, he isn't! Don't even say something like that."

"Jesus, it's not that big a deal! What's with you?" Brook pulled away, shoving open the locker room door with more force than necessary. "I swear, sometimes I think you've just got a crush on him, and sometimes-"

"I'm not sleeping with him. It's not anything like that." She picked up her bag and followed. "It's just-you wouldn't understand."

"Why not? What is it with you lately?" Brook pulled her jumpsuit out of the bag and shook it out. "Ever since he got here you've been acting so weird."

"Enough with the weird. Just trust me-whatever you're thinking, it's not it. I can almost guarantee that." She picked up her bag again. "Come on. Let's get changed." Brook stared at her for a moment, as if she didn't want to drop it, and then shook her head.

"Like I said. Weird." And then she followed.

Tyrus was in the audience. Even with a larger crowd, Genna would have known. She could feel the hooded eyes fixed on her as she sat with her teammates on the bench. Out in the circles, Robert was getting seriously whipped by one of the saber fighters from Hampden-Sydney. On the all-male school's bench, the guy Genna would be facing turned briefly to look at her with a grin that plainly said, "You're next." She smiled back thinly and returned her attention to the slaughter.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped. Stefan gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine. Don't worry about winning." The smile turned into a teasing grin. "And for God's sake, don't take off his head, even if you get the shot."

She laughed, or tried to. "I'll bear that in mind."

"Relax." The hand on her shoulder gave a gentle squeeze. "You're good."

"Maybe. But I'm still gonna get my butt kicked."

He laughed, and she felt a little of the tension drain away. "It'll be a learning experience." His eyes wandered up to the stands, and some of the good humor departed.

"Don't let him psyche you out," she said, trying to sound teasing. "He's just . . . why is he mad at you?"

"I'll explain some other time, Herzchen." He patted her arm. "Get ready. You're almost up."

"Again with the pet names," she murmured, but she picked up her saber and went to stretch.

Robert limped, not quite literally, back to their bench. "Have fun, Genna. He's gonna mop the floor with you."

"I'll make him pay before he does." She pulled her mask into place. "Even if it kills me."

"Don't go that far. My insurance doesn't cover that," Stefan called, but he couldn't tell if she heard or not. Briefly, he looked backed into the stands at Tyrus. His former mentor smiled thinly at him, and then pointedly turned to watch Genna. Stefan forced his attention back to the ring.

Genna dropped into an at-ready position, one hand behind her for balance. Her opponent grinned from behind his mask. "Little short for saber?"

"You'll find I'm full of surprises." If he could paraphrase Star Wars, so could she. Hopefully she'd fare better than Luke Skywalker did in that duel-of course, maybe Immortals grew severed limbs back. Then the judges gave them the ready signal and she waited. His first cut was light, testing, and she riposted easily. The second one was high and hard, and she stumbled back, not quite to the edge of the circle.

Stefan flinched, taking the blow with his student. Genna was indeed holding her own, but barely. If this were a fight for her life, not combined to circles and rules, she might be better-she'd shown more aptitude when given free rein to use gymnastics to evade. Trapped in the circle, she was at the mercy of her opponent's superior strength. She stepped back again, almost out of the ring and turned, moving around the edge and forcing her opponent to follow her. That threw him off-balance and she landed a touch. They paused and stepped back to ready, he raising his saber to acknowledge the point, but when they started again his attack was that much more ferocious.

Once again he felt his eyes drawn to Tyrus. The Templar was watching the fight with an amused smile, probably marveling at the irony of an Immortal dueling a mere mortal and losing. Or gauging Genna's skill-as if her age alone wasn't enough to tell him she'd be an easy mark. Stay away from her, you bastard. It's me you're after. It's me you hate. Don't drag her into this. As if he could hear Stefan's thoughts, Tyrus turned his gaze to the other man, and the smile became a smirk. He nodded briefly, touching his finger to the brim of a nonexistent cap-You've taught her well, but not well enough. Not for the mortal, and not for me.

On the floor, Genna stepped back and out of the circle. She raised her sword, ceding the match. He could see her shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and even from behind, he could see her frustration in the set of neck and head. She didn't look at him-he wouldn't have seen much through the mask, anyway-and she waited for the judges to dismiss the fighters before shaking hands with her opponent and returning to the bench. "He said I was 'pretty good, for a girl,'" she said without preamble, taking her seat. "That shouldn't have been so easy for him."

"You did fine." Stefan placed as hand her shoulder, consoling instead of encouraging this time. "Better than I'd hoped." He crouched down behind, leaning close to her ear. "This is just play. Don't be in too big a hurry for a real fight. That'll come, soon enough."

"If Tyrus doesn't lop both our heads off before we see him coming," she murmured, still trying to catch her breath.

"We'll see him coming. That's why there's the warning." He gave her shoulder a final squeeze before letting her go-amazing how tense her muscles were, as if she were still ready to fight. He realized then he'd just admitted that Tyrus was here to kill one or both them. "Why don't you go stretch out and get some water? You'll feel better." She gave him a look that said otherwise, but obeyed. "You did well, Herzchen. Next time, maybe you'll even win."

She was walking past the foil fencers as he said that, and Brook, still waiting for her round, shot her a glare. "I took German too. 'Little heart?' Sure sounds like nothing's going on to me."

"It's not what you think." She kept going, and she didn't dare look at her friend.

Stefan trudged up the stairs to gym balcony, hauling the last of the equipment bags. They'd gotten back after ten, and he'd taken pity on the dispirited team and dropped them off in front of the dorms with a few kind words about their fourth-place finish instead of making them haul the swords back up to the equipment room. The gym was dark, unusual for this early on a Sunday night, but it did leave the balcony bathed in weird shadows and patches of gold light from the street lamps outside. He dropped the bag, and pulled his own sword free of the others. The silver blade glinted in the darkness, and he gave it a few practice swings, then lunged forward, slashing at an invisible opponent.

"Shadow fencing?"

He'd felt the other Immortal approach, but hadn't turned. He supposed he was getting too used to Genna. She was standing at the top of the stairs, still in her fencing clothes, arms crossed. "I suppose. Limbering up, maybe."

"Planning on fighting someone?"

"Not particularly." He sliced the air again, and then picked up another sword from the bag and tossed to her.

She caught it easily, but didn't raise it to fighting position. "I'm too tired, Stefan."

"And if someone comes looking for your head, they won't care." He swung again and this time she parried, then lunged forward, driving him back across the balcony with a ferocity that startled him enough he could barely respond.

"Do you know what he said? 'Not bad, for a girl!' If I could've done this, he wouldn't have said that, would he?" She slipped a little and Stefan seized the advantage, switching between high and low cuts, pushing her up the balcony and against the wall. Pinned, she kept swinging, a little more erratic now that she was trapped.

He batted one of her thrusts aside and used the momentum to pin her sword arm against the wall and brought his sword up to rest against her throat. She let her own saber fall to the floor. "I told you not to expect to win the first time."

"The first time against mortals," she corrected. She was still breathing heavily, from the fight, adrenaline, he wasn't sure. In the dark, her pupils were dilated, making her eyes almost black. "I think I won this one, though."

"Really?" He let the flat of the blade press against her neck. "How do you figure that?"

She reached up slowly and pushed his sword away, then let her hands fall to her sides. "Just a feeling I have." For a moment, she didn't move, waiting for . . . something. Her breath was still coming quickly, her lips slightly parted.

Stefan hesitated, just a moment. Then he dropped his own sword and reached for her. She met him halfway, her hands resting on his shoulders as he bent his head and covered her mouth with his. She met the kiss more enthusiastically than he'd expected, and he tightened his arms across her back, pushing her back against the wall. He shifted his attention to her neck and she gasped. "God, Stefan . . . ."

"We shouldn't," he murmured. Her skin tasted of sweat. "Genna . . . we need to stop, think."

Bracing herself against the wall, she wrapped her legs around his waist. "I'm thinking, really." She nipped at his ear and he groaned. "I'm thinking very hard."

"Genna, please!" He wasn't certain any more whether he was asking her to stop or to continue. Her mouth found his again and he forgot about thinking.

There was a sound on the stair, but neither paid attention-there was no warning of another Immortal's approach. Then, a voice called, "Genna? Are you finished up here? Genna-oh, my God . . . ."

Stefan turned, and Genna got her feet back under her, stumbling as they faced a stunned Brook. She was standing at the top of the balcony steps, and the expression her face was a mixture of horror and betrayal. "Brook, wait. It's not-"

"Spare me, Genna. I know what this looks like." Her friend spun around and ran down the stairs.

"Oh, no." She looked at Stefan, whose face was a mixture of guilt and embarrassment and-hunger? "I should go after her."

He nodded. "Yes, probably. Genna, I don't know what-"

"We can talk later. If you want to talk. Or . . . whatever." She hesitated, looking after her friend.

"Or whatever," he echoed. He watched as she turned and ran after Brook. Did he want to finish what they'd obviously been starting? To his surprise, he found that he very much did. It wasn't as though there would be long-term consequences, at least not physically-as an Immortal, she couldn't conceive, even if he had been able to impregnate a woman, and neither had cause for concern when it came to diseases. Emotionally, though . . . he'd seen so many other Immortals in the same position, and it altered their lives in numerous ways. None the least of which was that one, overriding code of Immortal life: there can be only one. It was one thing to love a mortal, knowing you'd eventually lose them to old age, disease, violence, simply, petty accidents. It was quite another to know that one day, you or your lover might be the instrument of the other's destruction.

He shook off the thought and gathered up their swords. Regardless of any . . . feelings they might be experiencing, he was Genna's teacher and she was his pupil. Anything more could put them both in danger. Immediate danger from Tyrus, particularly. The older Immortal was planning something, that much Stefan knew. And, if past performance was any indication, he'd direct his vengeance at Genna. Especially if he thought she was more to Stefan than a student.

Genna sprinted down the steps and out the door after her friend. "Brook! Brook, wait, please!" She spotted her friend turning to stalk across the footbridge, almost running. "Brook!"

Brook stopped and spun around as Genna caught up with her. "So nothing's going on with you? It sure looked like it up there."

"Brook, I swear, it just happened. We were fencing, he pinned me to the wall, and the next thing I know, we're kissing. Neither of us meant for it to happen. It just did."

"Sure, Genna. Whatever you say." Brook turned and kept going across the footbridge. "I don't know why you think you have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying! Brook, please." She was running to keep up.

"You had your legs wrapped around him. What am I supposed to think was going on? You know, I don't even care that you're doing him. I'm just mad that you thought you had to lie about it. I thought we were friends!"

"We were! I mean, we are! There was nothing to tell you about, before tonight." The sense of another Immortal made her pause a moment, glancing behind her, but she saw no one approaching. Immediately, an uneasy feeling began in the pit of her stomach. "Brook, hang on a minute."

"What now?" Her friend's arms were folded across her chest and she was still glaring.

"Someone's watching us." She turned slowly, searching the shadows of the bridge before it dawned on her what was wrong. The lamps that lined the bridge should have been on. They weren't. "Brook, run back to the gym. Get Stefan. Tell him I think something's wrong. He'll know what I mean, just hurry."

"Genna, I am not running your errands-"

"Damn it, Brook, do it!"

Brook stared. Something had happened to Genna-her eyes were dark and piercing, and there as no trace of humor in her face. "Okay, I'll go. Genna, what-"

"Don't ask questions, just run." Tyrus was here. She was sure of it. The question was where, and what he'd come for. The uneasy prickling of the hairs on her neck said that she knew. Brook was running for the steps back up to the gym, for once not asking any more questions.

There was a rustle of cloth and Genna whipped around, to find herself facing Tyrus. For an instant she wondered wildly if he could fly, but then it dawned on her that he had simply jumped up and over the railing of the bridge-he'd been following her and he'd inched along the far side, hanging by his fingertips until he'd been behind her.

And he had his sword.

He'd drawn it from the scabbard across his back and he was swinging it in lazy arcs, one-handed, easy. Genna began backing away, wondering if she could get around him without risking her head. She feinted, and the blade came up fast enough to take care of that idea.

"What do you want, Tyrus?" she demanded, keeping one eye on his face and one on the sword.

"To make Stefan feel like I did, eighty years ago. I promised myself then that one day I'd destroy something he valued. You seem like a good place to start."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't need to. Stefan will. That's all I really care about." He slashed at her and she jumped back.

"I don't have a sword. This isn't a fair fight." Where was Stefan? Maybe Brook had changed her mind, maybe he'd left, but if he didn't get here soon, she'd be in a lot of trouble.

"I hadn't planned for it to be. I'm sure Stefan's told you that not all of us worry about fighting fair." Another serious cut, this one striking the stone rail and throwing up a cloud of sparks. "And if it makes him angry enough to fight me, so much the better. Two Immortals is too much for any town."

Genna dodged again, trying to slip by and run for the steps, but he was too fast for her. Stefan, where are you?