Rune coughed hard, his expression frozen. Somebody whistled and shouted. Distracted, she looked toward the noise. Their audience was clapping.
“That was goddamn balletic!” Graydon roared. He pounded her on the shoulder and knocked her sideways. She grunted and stumbled, and he grabbed her. “Oh shit, cupcake, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Did I hurt you?”
He looked so concerned as he steadied her she didn’t have the heart to complain. She rubbed the spot where he had hit her, and he pushed her hand away to rotate her arm and probe her shoulder muscles with careful fingers.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “It’s good.”
Rune rolled to his feet. “Go get Bayne and Con,” he told one of their watchers, who took off running. He walked over to her, eyes narrowed. “What all have you studied?”
“Wing Chun, jujitsu, some weaponry,” she said. “Basic stuff, sword and knife work. I can load and shoot a gun or crossbow. I’m not so good with a longbow.”
He studied her like she was a Rubik’s Cube he hadn’t quite figured out. “Dragos said you weren’t a fighter.”
“I’m not.” Graydon refused to be shooed away. She gave up trying to push him away and let him massage her shoulder muscles. “Not like you guys are. I wouldn’t choose a fight if I can avoid it, I don’t have a killer instinct and I don’t like the weaponry stuff.”
“Could you kill if you had to?”
“If I had no other choice,” she answered without hesitation. “I think I could do it to survive. But otherwise, all of my focus and training is on getting away.”
“Excellent. We can work with that. Which of the disciplines you’ve worked with do you like the best?”
She considered. “I’d have to say the Wing Chun. I like the principles of efficiency, practicality and economy of movement, and sensing the energy in your opponent’s movements. It’s elegant. I had a teacher once who told me the best kind of fighter was like haiku, very spare and simple, and the fight very short. Wing Chun seems to have something of that philosophy.”
He nodded. “What would you say is your strength?”
“That’s got to be speed. Let’s face it, if you guys were really out for blood and got your hands on me, I’d be toast.”
“Very good. And your weakness?”
She bent her head, rubbed at the back of her neck and confessed, “Following orders. I haven’t done any of this before. I’ll try my best, but if one of you yells duck, I could end up being that idiot that sticks up her head and says, ‘Huh?’ ”
“Well, that might not matter if you were slow enough to pin down,” said Graydon. “We’ve got to yell duck ’cause you might get all startled and hop out from underneath us if we try to tackle you, even if it’s for your own good.”
She winced at him.
The other two gryphons, Bayne and Constantine, had joined them while they talked, until Pia was surrounded by an enormous wall of solid muscle and close male attention. Rune said to them, “You guys have got to see this. Pia, you up for more?”
“What do you mean, am I up for more?” She snorted and tossed her head. “I haven’t yet broken a sweat, slick.”
“Them’s fightin’ words, cupcake,” said Graydon with glee. He cracked his knuckles.
Bayne and Constantine took turns at trying to tackle her. Each gryphon hit the mat. They had better luck when they went after her in pairs. Pia’s tank top grew damp with sweat. Not only were they formidable warriors with centuries of experience, they were motivated, fast learners. Very soon she had to ratchet up her effort.
She shifted into high gear, knowing she needed to learn even more from them than they did from her. All her focus was on the four Wyr who were intent on bringing her down. While they laughed and did a lot of joking, she knew now that what they were all working on was no mere exercise class but could be a matter of life or death.
Dragos had enjoyed a completely captivating evening with Pia. This morning he had held her soft sleeping form and watched the sun rise, and he had discovered another strange new experience, a feeling of absolute contentment and peace in the quiet, a certain knowledge that all was right with his world.
That was all in the past. His mood since had turned foul.
The Goblin stronghold had been abandoned. There had been no one to question. The enchanted shackles had vanished without a trace. Urien’s media blitz had been pretaped. He had been long gone by the time they got someone to investigate the interview site, and nobody could pinpoint the whereabouts of the bastard. Those investigating the trail from Pia’s ex-boyfriend and his bookie had come up against a dead end. And the stock value from the companies in Illinois continued to tumble.