Going to the weights, I started loading up. I wasn’t physically the strongest supernatural and had to work for what muscle I had. Being angry seemed like a good time to work out and push myself. Maybe that would stop me from killing him.
I was in there for two hours, working up a sweat when he walked in.
“Nice. Food is ready. I saved you some if you want any.”
Wow, now he has a change of heart. This guy is fucking ridiculous.
“No, thanks. I don’t need to eat that often.” I didn’t look at him as I did my bicep curls in front of the large mirror I had installed. He stood behind me, but I didn’t want to look at him so I watched my muscle flex and relax with each rep.
“Really?”
“What about being a naga, a snake person, didn’t you get?”
“Excuse me, but I only learned you existed earlier tonight, so maybe you should cut the fucking attitude.”
“Look who’s talking,” I hissed. “I didn’t do shit to you, Raphael. I’ve only tried to help you since we met, but you’ve got an attitude bigger than this fucking desert. Tell me, if a human decided to shoot a werewolf, should werewolves hate every single human?”
“No,” he answered, his voice tight. “But the human didn’t irrevocably change the werewolf and ruin his life.”
I laughed bitterly. “You should talk to some werewolves. Or vampires. They used to be human. They had those mortal lives taken from them, sometimes against their will. You know what they don’t do? They don’t get pissy and mad. They get over it. They adapt. They survive.” I dropped the weight and stood up to look him in the eye. “What happened to you is terrible, and we’re going to fix it. What was done to you is wrong, and I’m trying my damnedest to figure out how to get you through it. I’m not the person who cut you apart for five years. Not every monster is the same. Just like every human isn’t. Hell, half of the monsters used to be human, just like you.”
“You? Did you lose a human life?”
“No, I was born a naga with all the baggage that comes with it. There was never a human life for me. I knew I would grow up, hit my thirties or so, and stop aging. I knew about the monsters from the very beginning. What do you think is better, Raphael? Living in ignorance then losing the blinders, or knowing someone wants to kill you for being born because you live in a world of monsters?”
“Both suck,” he said, sitting down on a workout bench. “I’m sorry. Since this happened to me, my temper has been…uncontrollable. Like it’s a thing of its own, and I have to hold its leash. I don’t understand it. When I do that thing, I have to make sure I don’t lose control and lose my place in my own…brain like I did the night it all started. And yeah, I’m fucking pissed. I’ll be pissed for a long time. That’s something we’re both going to have to live with. I don’t care what other supernaturals have done to adapt and survive bullshit. I had a good life, and it was stolen from me. I don’t see any reason to let that go.”
“Fine, but when push comes to shove, no one else is going to care about the life you used to have. They’re only going to care about what you are now, whatever that fucking is,” I said, shaking my head. I grabbed a towel off the rack and pointed at the equipment. “Feel free to use any of it, just don’t break anything.”
“Actually, I thought I would concede a little defeat and ask you to teach me some of these weapons,” he admitted. “The food was supposed to be a peace offering.”
I sighed heavily. “I’m not a good teacher.”
“I’m a good student, though. Maybe I can make up for it.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. I wanted to leave him there to figure out his own shit.
Instead, I went to my training weapons cabinet and pulled out two simple wooden swords.
“We’ll start easy. Nearly every supernatural knows how to use a sword except for the modern ones. They like guns too much. Don’t get me wrong, a gun is a good thing to have, but a sword? It’s personal, and a lot of supernaturals like to get up close and personal. It’s how they’ll kill you.