Tessellate

With two-hundred and fifty pounds of human muscle bearing down on her, Tara processed her options with machine like precision. Pushing her hips upward in a bridging motion, she writhed her body as far to the right as she could without exposing too much of her back. A matter of centimeters was all the she needed, however. Her opponent's weight shifted on his knees ever so slightly, just enough to cause him to lean forward and brace himself on the mat beneath them.

Tara seized on the opening. Shifting her left leg to the right, she brought it up and locked it over her opponent's left foot. Bringing her elbows down into a stabbing motion, she unleashed the force of her much tempered strength into a chunky thigh and further unseated the larger fighter reigning over her. Switching the bulk of her weight to the left, she hooked her right arm over her opponent's back and kicked her right leg up hard enough to propel herself under and over the opening she created for herself.

The human swore as Tara swept from beneath him, rolled backwards and hopped up energetically.

"Alright," he heard his father yell. "That's enough."

"E nuff!" Nola echoed raucously. Like a junior coach she would repeat everything Miles had to say to Tara when she was in the ring.

"It's like trying to wrestle with a worm...if a worm had arms and legs and lady things," Tara's human sparring partner complained as he exited the ring.

"You just be glad I'm takin' it easy on you, Gumby," she laughed.

Anyone who didn't know she was vampire would have seen the remark as cocky or boastful, but the truth was Tara had gone to lengths not to use her preternatural speed or strength to an unfair advantage against the formidable, yet ultimately weaker human.

Instead she matched him in power and outmatched him in skill. It had been Miles idea for the pair to train together to work on their respective weaknesses. It was his hope that Gumby would improve on his technique once he had a chance to spar with someone who could take the full force of his power and then some. And in the process, Tara would also learn to fight smarter rather than rely on her strength and speed alone.

After eleven months and forty wins between them, thirty-five of which were Tara's, Miles knew his choice had been the right one. He could only hope his son could achieve the same kind of winning streak.

"You gonna go tell your momma good job?" Miles asked Nola, who was perched on a metal folding chair next to his own.

Nola nodded before confidently scooting off of her chair. Miles sucked in a breath as the little girl moved with the whimsical speed and grace of a baby hummingbird.

"Never get used to that," the old man murmured to himself.

As often was the case when they visited Miles's gym, Tara made the journey back to Lafayette's house with Nola sitting high upon her shoulders. On the way, the pair would discuss which homes would be a good fit for them. Predictably, Nola preferred everything colorful - pink in particular. Tara, on the other hand, saw the potential in even the most rundown property.

"Do you like that one?" Tara often asked Nola as they stopped in front of an abandoned double gallery house in a sorry state of disrepair. Tara been taken with the house since she first arrived in New Orleans, and with each fight she came closer to realizing her dream of owning it.

"No," Nola would reply loudly and firmly without fail.

"Why don't you like it?"

"Is scare we," Nola would then explain, too young to understand that their kind were the scariest beings the dark had to offer.

Unlike previous nights, however, Tara and Nola did not make their journey alone. Miles' son insisted on accompanying them due to the late hour. It seemed to Tara that the human was also too young to understand that she had little to fear of the night. But rather than reject the man's misguided attempt at chivalry, she agreed to the extra bit of company.

"I appreciate you takin' the time to work with me tonight. I know you got a lot on your plate right now."

"Don't mention it, Gumby," Tara dismissed, adjusting Nola on her shoulders as they walked the streets of Marginy.

"Can I ask you something?"

"That depends. Is it something about me being a vampire?"

The human cleared his throat and smiled nervously. "You must get a lot."

"You have no idea," Tara replied without hesitation A little curiosity was to be expected, but with the great revelation decades behind them, she couldn't understand how or why humans were still so fascinated with even the most basic details about vampire existence.

"Well, lucky for you I wasn't gonna ask you about fangs or blood or anything like that…I was just wondering if you'd like to do somethin' outside of, you know, beatin' each other up?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know, maybe get dinner?"

"Last I checked, blood wasn't on the menu at Applebee's, Gumby," Tara chided the human as they arrived in front of Lafayette's house.

"Right," Gumby said shoving his large hands in his pockets like an awkward schoolboy. "Wait! Do you like dancin'? I may not look like it, but I'mma pretty good dancer."

Tara appraised the young man for a moment. Her interest, if it could even be called that, in him was friendly at best and professional at worst. And in many ways she saw him like a younger brother. Yet, there was something about him that reminded her of the young men she'd known and almost loved in her former life. His dim-witted charm reminded her of Jason Stackhouse while his mild manners brought back memories of her former fling, Eggs Talley. That was then, however. She couldn't get back to the girl who would have been content with a guy like Gumby. And, if she was honest, she didn't want to try.

"I don't thank that's a good idea."

"It's not a good idea to go dancin'?"

"Gumby, do yourself a favor and find a nice human girl to wine and dine, 'cause whatever you're lookin' for? I'm as far from that as you can possibly imagine."

Watching what looked like a juicy scene playing out between Tara and her painfully handsome sparring partner through a crack in his front door, Lafayette strained to hear what was being said without being detected. He nearly fell over when his cousin turned her back on the man and blurred toward the entrance.

"It's one am. What took you so long?" Lafayette asked, swinging the door open dramatically.

Tara fixed him with a look of unbridled skepticism.

"Since when do you sit around worryin' about the time I get home?"

"Since you took Nola with you. I was worried about my sweet little buttercup," Lafayette corrected, outstretching his arms to collect the toddler from Tara's shoulders.

"You can blame Gumby for that."

"Tara, if that man was any sweeter on you, he'd be a puddle of molasses around your feet," Lafayette teased suggestively.

"Knock it off."

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well don't," snapped, irritation plain in her tone.

"Look, no one's suggestin' you marry him. He probably only lookin' for some supe pussy, anyway…"

"Lafayette!"

"All I'm saying is you could stand to have some fun. You gotta stop punishing yourself."

"Who says that's what I'm doin'?" Tara asked defensively, her arms akimbo.

"Hooker, you get kicked in the face for a living."

"An' you're a drug dealer," Tara volleyed, her accent growing stronger in direct correlation with her annoyance. "Maybe we shouldn've skipped school on career day."

Lafayette pointed an accusatory finger in his younger cousin's direction. "You need to move on."

"I have."

"No, you moved. There's a difference. Half of you in Louisiana..the other never left London."

Tara's brows furrowed deeply at what Lafayette was insinuating.

"Who the hell died and made you Oprah?"

"You can get snappy with me all you want to, but you keep holding onto that torch and it's gonna burn yo' ass up. Trust."

"Thanks for the lecture," Tara twanged sarcastically."Are you done now?"

"That was not a lecture, that was a read," Lafayette corrected just before a knock sounded at the front door. "And yes, I am done. For now. Tell your Mr. Bechet Lala said hey," he teased one last time before he carried Nola off to bed.

"It's your bed time, buttercup."

"No! Is you bed time," came the toddler's defiant reply as she was taken into the home's only bedroom.

Tara waited until she heard the door shut behind her before she answered the one in front of her. Although she knew exactly who was on the other side, the jaded fighter still wasn't prepared for the reality of standing right across from her after being thousands of miles apart for months. She missed her closeness, yearned for it for months, but when the object of her desire was near enough to be touched, Tara wanted nothing to do with her. She slipped into a suit of steely apathy before stepping out of the house.

Dressed in a form fitting black leather jacket, tighter black leather pants, and brutally red Balmain ankle boots, Pam's silvery blue eyes were unreadable as she stared fixedly at an infinity shaped pendant in the palm of her hand.

Curious as to what had so captured the blonde's attention, Tara's sunless gaze was drawn to the chain in kind. She recognized it immediately.

Nola's chain was thought to be lost for good when Tara arrived to collect the toddler from their former neighbor's home and didn't see it around her neck. In Tara's mind, it was merely a piece of jewelry, no cause for real concern. So she left London without giving it a second thought.

"Where's Nola?" Pam asked without looking up.

"Sleep," Tara answered curtly, agitated by her ex-lover's sudden and inexplicable interest in the child she had previously refused to commit to.

"Fine," Pam said before she turned to leave. "I'll come back tomorrow"

"No," Tara said firmly, grabbing Pam by the arm to spin her back around. "You don't get to pop up in her life after eleven months like nothing's changed. I won't let you," she finished, releasing her maker as quickly and harshly as she took hold of her.

The blue-blooded vamp didn't display the slightest hint of displeasure. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the fiery reaction her progeny had to her. Stepping intrusively close to the unyielding young Louisianan before her, she smiled serenely.

"It's been a spell, I do realize, so you may have forgotten that I am your maker," Pam said, slowly trailing her finger along the soft skin of Tara's cheek down to her angular jawline. "And as your maker, I don't need your permission to do anything."

Placing a well-worn copy of 'My Mommy has Fangs' on the edge of the bed where Nola was now resting peacefully, Lafayette breathed a sigh of relief. He'd managed to get the baby vamp to sleep and he only had one bite to show for it.

'Dammit!'

Lafayette nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Tara curse and slam the front door shut. Squinting beneath his expansive false eyelashes, he hazarded a peek at Nola to see if the commotion in the next room had disturbed her sleep. When he saw that it hadn't, he raised his clenched fists in silent thanksgiving.

Tara paced the front room like a wounded panther. She couldn't figure out whether she was more pissed at Pam for staying away or for showing up. To top it all off, she was pissed at herself for being pissed that her estranged partner only seemed concerned with seeing Nola rather than her.

"Are you crazy?" Lafayette questioned his cousin in a hushed tone as he exited the bedroom where her child was asleep.

"I'm gettin' there," Tara snarled, her fangs protracting on their own accord.

"M-maybe you should go let off some steam," Lafayette stuttered helpfully. "I'll keep an eye on Nola for you."

"You sure?"

Clutching his red cowl necked cardigan tighter around his neck, the human nodded earnestly.

It was the dead of night when Tara arrived at the Olympic sized swimming pool Miles had somehow procured for her private usage after hours. Donning a red bathing cap and stripping down to her fight gear, a white sports bra and a skintight pair of white vale tudo style shorts, swimming was the last thing on Tara's mind when she walked toward the edge of the crystal clear blue water and dove in headfirst.

It was cold. And it burned in equal measure.

The pool had been fitted with an ionizer that released both copper and silver ions, which served to compliment reduced chlorine usage and kill bacteria in the water. While beneficial to humans, the microscopic particles of silver were just enough to make a vampire decidedly uncomfortable.

A tiny alarm bell went off in Tara's mind, as what little remained of her human instinct to breath called on her to emerge from the pool and seek air. Quelling the impulse, she centered the full force of her power and let herself sink quickly instead. Feet firmly planted on the bottom as though the upward propulsion of buoyancy didn't at all counteract the pull of gravity, she gazed calmly out at the empty space surrounding her.

As a child, Tara hadn't been afraid of the water, only what lurked beneath it. She'd read enough of Moby Dick, the Odyssey, and countless other classics that regaled with tales of the ocean deep to believe that sea monsters were real. Of course her only access to water back then had been the swimming hole in the woods on the poor side of town.

Bon Temps's black residents had claimed the spot long before the old Jim Crow laws officially banned them from the whites only pool that was built on the other of the small town in the nineteen fifties. It seemed everyone learned to swim there.

Everyone except Tara.

Unlike her friends and family, who learned to swim so as to keep from sinking, Tara learned to swim after sinking was of no consequence.

When she first dove beneath the large choppy waves of the shark-infested South Atlantic Ocean, bordering Namibia's desert coastline, Tara couldn't help but see the irony in finding refuge from the sun she once adored in the depths of the dark waters she once feared. The sea was suddenly the one thing standing between her and the true death. And as she drifted deeper and deeper into the abyss, she realized she had become the unseen monster the bookish little girl from Bon Temps had nightmares about.

It seemed everything in Tara's life had a strange habit of turning out the way she'd least expected.

The most recent reversal was still on the back of her mind. Intent on pushing the matter aside until after her next big fight, Tara instead focused on losing herself in training.

Right hook.

Left hook.

Clinch.

Knee curve.

Teep.

Shin kick.

Right cross.

Spinning elbow.

For hours Tara executed hundreds of moves slowly and deliberately. At first, she found it difficult to focus on proper implementation while pain clouded her thoughts. Over time, she became so hyperfocused on her movements that she no longer felt the burn of the ionized water on her skin.

After executing a flying knee with such force she sent a small tidal wave rippling across the surface of the water, Tara drifted peacefully back down to the pool floor. Although she couldn't tell exactly what time it was, having lost track, the muted sound of her mobile alarm reminded her that dawn would soon break.

Propelling herself up and out of the water like a missile, she quickly shut it off. It was only then that she realized she'd missed two calls from Lafayette. Returning the call, she was alarmed to hear his panicked voice on the other end of the line.

"Slow down," she attempted to calm him and make sense of what he was saying. "What's wrong?"

'You was right.'

"La, I need to know what-"

'I'm sorry, Tara. For everything.'

Fear feeding her speed, Tara made it back to Lafayette's house mere minutes after the call abruptly ended. His purple Cadillac was no longer parked outside, as it was when she left. And from outward appearances, his house hadn't been disturbed. The inside, told a similar tale. Everything was in its proper place, no signs of forced entry or a struggle. Tara sped toward the bedroom.

Safe.

It was the only word she could think of upon finding Nola sleeping soundly in her plaid pajamas. Tara's relief was diluted with unease and uncertainty. Her child was safe. Her cousin was not. She needed to find him. She could not leave her. Cupping the back of her head with her hands, Tara shut her eyes and struggled to come to a decision. She found a path forward in the memory of her own words.

She needs to always come first.