The Golden Lily

"Um, just guessing." I suddenly felt silly. Why had it felt that way for me?

"It was great, actually." A faraway look came over her. "Well, almost. I couldn't quite get into it as much as I wanted because I was worried about my fangs. It's easy to hide them talking and smiling. But not while kissing. And all I kept thinking was, 'What am I going to say if he notices?' And then I started thinking about what you and everyone else said. About how this thing with Micah isn't a good idea and how I can't keep things hands-off forever. I like him. I like him a lot. But not enough to risk exposing the Moroi... or endanger Lissa."

"That's a noble attitude."

"I guess. I don't want to end things yet, though. Micah's so nice... and I love all the friends I've made by being with him. I guess I'll just see what happens... but it's hard. It's a wake-up call." She looked so sad as she went into her room.

Continuing on to mine, I felt bad for Jill... but at the same time, I was relieved. I'd stressed over her casual dating of Micah, worried we'd be facing some dramatic, romantic situation where she refused to give him up because their love was too great and transcended their races. Instead, I should have had more faith in her. She wasn't as immature as I sometimes thought. Jill was going to realize the truth and resolve this on her own.

Her words about Adrian also stuck with me, particularly when I picked him up the next evening for our first self-defense class. He got into my car with a cheery attitude, seeming neither depressed nor crazy. He was, I noticed, dressed very nicely, in clothes that would have been an excellent choice for the visit to his father. He noticed my attire as well.

"Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you in anything so... casual." I had on olive green yoga pants and an Amberwood T-shirt.

"The class description said to dress in comfortable workout clothes - like I texted you earlier." I gave his raw silk shirt a meaningful look.

"This is very comfortable," he assured me. "Besides, I don't own any workout clothes." As I shifted the car into drive, I caught sight of Adrian's left hand. At first, I thought he was bleeding. Then, I realized it was red paint.

"You're painting again," I said in delight. "I thought you'd stopped."

"Yeah, well. You can't take painting classes and not paint, Sage."

"I thought you'd stopped those too."

He gave me a sidelong glance. "Nearly did. But then I remembered I'd convinced some girl that if she gave me a chance and got me into those classes, I'd follow through on them.

That'll teach me."

I smiled and pulled into traffic.

I'd left a little early so that Adrian and I had time to take care of our registration. When I'd called the Wolfe School of Defense earlier today, an agitated man had told me to just show up with the money since we were down to the last minute. The address was outside of downtown, in a residence set on sprawling grounds that had made no attempts to go green and thwart the climate. The desert still held claim here, giving the house a dismal, forlorn look. If not for WOLFE printed on the mailbox, I would've thought we had the wrong place. We pulled up into the gravel drive - no other cars were there - and stared.

"This is the kind of place you see in movies," said Adrian. "Where careless people run into serial killers."

"At least it's still light out," I said. Ever since the alley, darkness had taken on a whole new menace for me. "Can't be that bad."

Adrian opened the car door. "Let's find out."

We rang the doorbell and were immediately met with the sounds of barking and scampering feet. I stepped back uneasily. "I hate poorly trained dogs," I muttered to Adrian. "They need to behave and be kept in line."

"Just like the people in your life, huh?" asked Adrian.

The door opened, and we were met by a fifty-something man with a grizzled blond beard.

He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. Also, he had an eye patch.

"This is incredible," I heard Adrian murmur. "Beyond my wildest dreams." I was taken aback. The eye patch made me think of Keith's glass eye, which in turn made me think of my role in him acquiring it. It wasn't a memory I liked being reminded of, and I wondered at the odds of running into another one-eyed man. This guy nudged the herd of dogs aside - which appeared to be some sort of Chihuahua mix - and barely managed to step outside without them following before he shut the door.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"We're, uh, here for the class. The self-defense class." I felt the need to clarify, in case he also taught about dog breeding or riding the high seas. "I'm Sydney, this is Adrian. I called this morning?"

"Ah, right, right." He scratched his beard. "You got the money? Cash only." I produced one hundred and fifty dollars and handed it over. Out of habit, I nearly asked for a receipt, but then thought better of it. He stuffed the cash into the pocket of his shorts.

"Okay," he said. "You're in. Go ahead and wait in the garage until the others show up. The side door's unlocked." He gestured to a large, industrial looking building - twice the size of the house - over on the far side of the lot. Without waiting around to see if we'd comply, he slipped back inside to the barking dogs.

The garage's interior, I was relieved to see, was the first thing here that looked like it had some semblance of legitimacy. There were clean mats on the floor and mirrors on some of the walls. A TV and VHS player sat on a cart, along with some defense-related tapes covered in dust. Slightly more disconcerting was some of the decor, like a pair of nunchucks hanging on the wall.

"Don't touch those!" I warned, seeing Adrian head toward them. "That's not the kind of guy whose stuff you want to mess with."

Adrian stayed hands-off. "Do you think we'll get to learn to use these?"

"Weapons weren't in the class description. It's about basic self-defense and hand-tohand."

"Why bother then?" Adrian strolled over to a glass case displaying several types of brass knuckles. "That's the kind of stuff Castile does all day. He could have showed us."

"I wanted someone a little more approachable," I explained.

"What, like Captain McTropicalShorts back there? Where on earth did you find him anyway?"

"Just did an Internet search." Feeling a need to defend my research, I added, "He comes highly recommended."

"By who? Long John Silver?" Despite myself, I laughed.

Over the next half hour, the rest of our class trickled in. One was a woman who looked to be about seventy. Another was a mother who'd just had her fourth child and decided she needed to "learn to protect them." The last two women in the class were in their mid-twenties and wore T-shirts with angry girl-power catchphrases. Adrian and I were the youngest in the group. He was the only man, not counting our instructor, who asked that we simply refer to him as Wolfe.