Mercer?"
I heard snickers from the crowd, and I knew my face was flaming red.
Stupid pale skin.
Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, because the Vandy didn't wait for an answer. She turned and knelt down beside a large canvas bag.
When she straightened up, she was holding a wooden stake.
"How would you defend yourself against this, Miss Mercer?"
"I'm a witch," I said automatically, and again I heard the crowd murmur and giggle. I wondered if Archer was laughing, but then decided I really didn't want to know.
"You're a witch?" the Vandy repeated. "So, what? A large pointy piece of wood slamming into your heart won't kill you?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I, uh, I guess it would, yeah."
The Vandy smiled, and it was one of the most disturbing smiles I've ever seen. Clearly I was the bug for today.
Turning away from me, she looked though the crowd until she saw someone who made her eyes narrow. "Mr. Cross!"
Oh God, I thought weakly. Oh please, please, no . . .
Archer made his way to the front and stood on the other side of the
Vandy, crossing his arms over his chest. The sunlight coming in through the windows glinted off his hair, which wasn't black after all, but the same deep dark brown as his eyes.
Then the Vandy turned to me and put the stake in my hand.
I don't know what kind of stakes vampire killers normally use, but this one was pretty crappy. It was made of some cheap yellow wood that felt prickly against my palm. It also felt totally wrong in my grip, and I let it just sort of dangle at my side. But the Vandy grabbed my elbow and positioned my arm so that I was holding it up as if I were ready to jam it through
Archer's chest.
I looked up at him, and saw that he was struggling not to laugh. His eyes were nearly watering, and his lips were twitching.
My hand tightened on the stake. Maybe shoving it into his heart wasn't such a bad idea.
"Mr. Cross," the Vandy said, still smiling sweetly, "kindly disarm
Miss Mercer using Skill Nine."
Instantly, all levity vanished from his face. "You've got to be kidding."
"Either you demonstrate it or I will."
For a second I thought he was still going to refuse, but then he looked back at me and muttered, "Fine."
"Excellent!" the Vandy trilled. "Now, Miss Mercer, attack Mr. Cross."
I stared at her. I had never so much as wielded a flyswatter in my life, and this woman expected me to just lunge at a guy with a pointy wooden stick?
The Vandy's smile hardened. "Any day now."
I wish I could say that I suddenly discovered my inner warrior princess and expertly leaped at Archer, weapon hoisted high, teeth bared.
That would have been cool.
Instead I raised the stake to about shoulder height and took two, maybe three shuffling steps forward.
Then viselike fingers clenched my throat, the stake was wrenched from my hand, and a sharp stabbing pain shot up my right thigh as I landed on the ground with a thump that knocked the breath out of me.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, once I landed, something hard and heavy--his knee, I thought--hit me right in the sternum. You know, just in case there was one last breath left in my lungs. The point of the stake scraped the sensitive skin just under my chin. I looked up, wheezing, into
Archer's face.
He was off of me in a heartbeat, but all I could do was roll onto my side, draw my knees up to my chest, and wait for oxygen to reenter my body.
"Very good!" I heard the Vandy say from somewhere far off. I was literally seeing stars, and every ragged breath I took felt like I was trying to breathe through broken glass.
On the upside, my crush on Archer was totally gone. Over. Once a boy has slammed his kneecap into your rib cage, I think any romantic feelings should naturally go the way of the ghost.
Then I felt hands under my arms, lifting me to my feet. "I'm sorry,"
Archer murmured, but I just glared at him. My throat still felt thick and swollen, and I didn't want to try to push any words through it.
Much less all the words I wanted to say to him.
"Now," the Vandy was saying brightly, "Mr. Cross showed excellent technique there, although I would have definitely stayed on the opponent's chest longer."
Archer nodded very slightly at me when she said that, and I wondered if he was trying to say that's why he'd done it; I would have been worse off if it had been the Vandy. I really didn't care. I was still pissed.
"And now, Mr. Cross, Skill Four," the Vandy chirped.
But this time Archer shook his head. "No."
"Mr. Cross," the Vandy said sharply, but Archer just tossed the stake at her feet. I waited for the disemboweling or the caning or, at the very least, the writing up, but once again, the Vandy just smiled her tight smile. She picked up the stake and handed it to me.
I was certain I was going to throw up. Wasn't there some other newbie she could torture? I glanced around and caught a few sympathetic looks, but everyone else just seemed relieved it wasn't them about to get squashed.
"Very well. Watch and learn, people. Skill Four. Come at me, Miss
Mercer."
I just stood there staring at her.
She pursed her lips in irritation, and then, without warning, her hand shot out to grab me. But I was ready this time, and angry and hurt. Without thinking, I pulled my leg up and thrust it out.