"Arghhhhh!" I cried, beginning to fear for my own life.
A typical training session with Alexandra Beech. For me, at least, seeing as I'd also been told from a not-so-reliable source that she also teaches a yoga class for elderly moroi women on Tuesdays.
"Your focus is off." Beech accused. Everything she said was either an accusation or a demand, pissing me off like only she could. "Breathe and move; that's all you need to do."
"Finding it... a little... hard... to breathe!" I gasped between burpees, my legs burning like hell and my lungs burning like that part of hell kept empty deliberately for bitchy mentors like Beech to fall into when they kicked the metaphorical bucket. However, it appeared the only thing getting kicked this morning was my arse as she sprang from the corner of the room, grabbed me by the stomach and used what little momentum I had left to fling me onto the pile of crash-mats over her shoulder.
I cursed loudly.
"You're done for now. Five minutes. Get some water." She demanded before turning briskly on her heel and practically marching over to the desk at the edge of the room where she kept my training log. I'd have loved to get a good look at what she wrote about me every session but had never gathered enough courage to take a peek, lest she notice the notebook had moved or any piece of dust out of place or something.
The price I have to pay to have one of Britain's best guardians as my mentor.
I took the stairs two at a time down from the converted attic-studio into the living area of my dad's house, not so much from residual energy but from sheer desire for water clouding any pain my muscles were experiencing. Which was far too much.
Having forgotten my water bottle, I stuck my head under the tap in the bathroom, the coolness of the water blissful and-
"I brought your water bottle."
I spun around, my dhampir reflexes slower due to my exhausted state.
"Thanks..." I tried, unsure of how to act outside of the training environment.
"What's with you today? You seem so much more tired than you used to get, even a few months ago when you weren't as fit. Are you eating enough?"
I nodded my head.
"Sleeping enough?"
"Yes, mostly, although my brother usually wakes me up when he gets in in the early hours." I was on a human schedule, like most teenagers and kids who went to human schools. The British education system for vampires insisted we learnt with the humans, becoming respectable, learned members of society. A decent idea. But it also insisted we learn the other stuff outside of school. Which meant that school holidays were pretty much non-existent. Whoop whoop.
"Who's he guardian for?" She asked, actually asking and not demanding. I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.
"Quentin Drozdov, although he's looking to go over to the US in the autumn to see if he can get a job at Court for a change of scene." I scowled, knowing that his incredibly talented reputation would possibly even lead to him having a spot guarding the Queen herself. "Lucky bugger." I muttered.
Beech frowned. "It's not all plain-sailing at Court, trust me, especially with the turmoil our new Queen is causing herself. Threats are posed by moroi, dhampir and Strigoi alike."
"I guess." I conceded, unhappy with her words about the Queen. I had heard a lot about her over the past few months and already liked her progressiveness. I also practically worshipped Rose Hathaway and Dimitri Belikov, her two most famous guardians, whose relationship was mostly frowned upon in British vampire society due to it having started when he was mentoring her in school. No such luck with mentor for me, although Beech was exceptional in her own right, having killed three strigoi with a blindfold on and only a penknife for a weapon until backup arrived and threw her a stake.
And she'd chosen to personally tutor me.
"So, what is the matter?" She demanded, apparently struggling to remain friendly for even a few seconds.
I debated lying and saying it was my ankle again or something, but that would only put me out of action for even longer, possibly sacrificing my chance to get a good placement with a moroi at whichever university I got into if I had to go on six weeks rest again. I couldn't miss six more weeks of training, no matter how tough things were. My thoughts returned to the truth, causing my mouth to dry up. I licked my lips.
"I can't stop eating." I admitted, the words falling over each other to escape my mouth. "At first I thought it was just some teenager thing or some reaction of my body to the increased training but now it happens almost every other day and I'm so scared."
She looked confused. "You mean, you're binging?"
I grimaced. "Yeah, I guess that's what it is."
"When did this start?" She enquired softly, causing me to look directly into her eyes for the first time in this conversation. I looked away, flustered.
"When my parents split up. I ate very little, then started training more so ate normally and now this." I explained.
"It must just be your body's natural react-" she broke off, "do you hear that?"
I stopped my breathing and strained my ears, picking up a faint scratching coming from the ground floor. It sounded like a cat or a dog but Beech's face had paled, making her tanned complexion look sickly and yellow, which made my heart beat faster than the noise did.
"It's daylight," I whispered, "no strigoi."
She turned from looking out the bathroom door, calculation in her eyes. "There are greater, more powerful, more dangerous things to fear in this world than strigoi."