Just a short chapter. Jez and Morgead. Fighting. Training. (I know nothing about martial arts…so bear with me if some of their fighting sounds…weird XD) And, they're around..8 here…

This was supposed to be posted on Thanksgiving…but I had a lot to do, so yeah…And I wanted to get this done before we go on this hiking trip, which I'll go for five days…(ew, leeches…wait, salt, yes, I need salt!)

Disclaimer: I don't own. Night World© L. J .Smith.

"You strike like a two-year-old." Jez said, dodging Morgead's blow.

"Oh yeah? Even a two-year-old can beat you." Morgead said, striking to disarm Jez.

"Hardly." Jez said, smiling sweetly. She motioned as if to strike him on the head, but just as she did, she changed course and went for a leg strike.

"You know, that trick is so old." Morgead stopped her stick with the tip of his, and twisted, attempting to disarm Jez. Jez's grip loosened, but she didn't drop the stick. Morgead caught the opportunity with her momentary weakness and hit her on the wrist. With a loud thud, Jez's stick fell on the ground. Morgead pointed the tip of his stick to Jez's throat.

"What did I tell you?" Morgead said smugly, grinning. "Yield or die."

Jez said nothing. Her expression was unreadable. Her levelled silvery-blue eyes regarded him coldly. He stared back at her. Her eyes, he thought, were a strange combination of blue and silver. Like the tongue of a blue fire licking silver. The blue was a pure, tranquil blue. Not sea blue, it was a darker blue. And the silver, the silver was flashing and dangerous. It was a strange combination. When she was more human, like when they were out in the streets, there would be more blue colour in her eyes, like normal human eyes; but when they were out hunting, he'd noticed that her eyes could be full silver, full of predatory power. When she's angry, her eyes would be more silver too, like now. It's like water paint, when you mix silver and blue…well, it turns out to be silvery-blue, if that kind of colour exits…

Whack!

His own stick came smashing down on his head. Jez had grabbed the tip of his stick while he was distracted, yanked it out of his hand and went for a head strike so fast, he hardly noticed until the stick came slamming down his own head. A wave of dizziness washed through him. He steadied himself, careful not to show any weakness. Now Jez was standing over him, holding his stick triumphantly.

"What did you tell me?" She asked innocently, eyes flashing with victory.

Damn it. He thought, he had her, and he should've never let her had the chance to do that. "You didn't play fair, you know." He said calmly, and grabbed hold of her ankles, then dragged hard, taking her legs out.

Jez, for a moment, was taken completely by surprise. When she realized what he was doing, she was already on the floor. Morgead rolled off where he was and pinned her to the ground, his face inches to hers.

"And neither will I." He finished, glaring down at her.

"I didn't yield, Morgead." Jez said angrily, her eyes flaring, "All's fair. You shouldn't have thought the fight was over."

"Right—" He broke off. Their faces were inches apart, Jez—now her eyes were burning silver— staring up at him furiously. Their breath mingled. Too close. He realized, and he pulled apart. He was standing up within seconds.

"Too bad. I win anyway." He said savagely. He tossed his stick in a pile at the corner at his room casually. "Now get up."

Jez just glared at him. "Ugh." She said disgustedly, "You never play fair."

Morgead laughed dryly. "As if you ever do."

"Oh, I do." She said randomly, inspecting the pile where he'd just thrown his stick in. "Snakewood!" She exclaimed. "Where'd you get them?"

"The woods." He answered casually. "But I still think Japanese oak is a better choice."

"I'd say Snakewood," Jez muttered. "it's one of the hardest woods in the world, you know."

"Whatever." Was Morgead's response.

"So how'd you find this place?" Jez asked nonchalantly while tossing the stick made of Japanese oak between her two hands.

"Well, this penthouse's literally abandoned." Morgead said, sitting down. "I guess no one would care if we borrow it."

The room was big, the walls unwashed. There was nothing inside for now except for the pile of fighting sticks Morgead had tossed in the corner of the room. It had a lot of space for them to train. The penthouse stood on the top of the whole building, which looked hideous and ugly with grey, tan concrete walls. Outside was a sort of roof garden with a couple of wilted, uncared scraggy plants, looking as hideous as the rest of the building. Looking throughout the window, Jez realized that the penthouse had a great view—it was the tallest place around here, and there were no other buildings that can overlook them—except the flag pole without a flag on top of the penthouse.

"Nice view." Jez commented.

"Yeah." Morgead said as he came beside Jez in front of the window. "Total privacy. No one would know even if we kill someone up here." He said warily.

"Right."

"I'm thinking of moving in here." Morgead said after a while.

"What?"

"After all, I don't really have any place else to go."

"Morgead, what are you talking about?" Jez turned to look at him. "What about your house?"

Morgead turned his levelled green eyes to her. "I wouldn't really call that house," He said tunelessly, "My home."

Jez just stared at him.

"My mother," He let out a scoff, "has finally decided to move on, that is. She ran off with this guy from Europe a month ago, I think."

"Europe?"

"Yeah, they're probably in Paris French kissing right now. Isn't that romantic." He said bitterly, his emerald green eyes were cold as glacier ice. Jez was at a lost of words. What was she supposed to do, anyway? Put her arms around him and say it's OK? No, Morgead didn't need that.

"So, I'm thinking of selling the apartment, and moving in here." He finished, face expressionless. "Then I'll have all the space to train."

"Well, that's great." Jez finally decided to say.

"What's with all the turkey stuff today?" Morgead asked as they watched the busy in and out going people on the streets.

"Oh. I think it's Thanksgiving day. The human celebration thing." She remembered Uncle Bracken mentioning it earlier.

"Thanksgiving." Morgead muttered to himself. His hair was much longer than before, long enough that it fell around his face. He ran a hand through his black tousled hair. "What's there to thank for?" He snorted, "Thanks for having a runaway mother? Thanks for no one thinking I'm important?"

Was he babbling? Jez stared at Morgead. Even though his tone was hard and cold, Jez knew somehow, that deep down inside, beneath his cold stare, he was hurt. That's why he trained so hard recently. She thought. Because he's on his own now.

Or maybe not.

"Well," Jez said slowly, walking away from the window. "Maybe you can thank," Morgead turned around to look at her. And that's when she took the Snakewood stick and pointed its end at him. "For having an excellent fighting partner." She finished, smiling radiantly.

Morgead stared at her, expression unchanged.

"If you noticed, I didn't yield." Jez added, tossing her red hair back.

In a flash, Morgead picked up the nearest stick around him. "Then, thank you, Jezebel, partner" He grinned, "and drop dead." He said as he blocked Jez's first strike.

And he meant it.

The first part, anyway.

That's all for today :) Down packing now…(oh yes, bugspray…)

Any comments? Leave a review please!