19 - ‘Come gentle night…’

“Damn it Kemp haven’t you ever been in a fight where you had to use weapons?”

Kemp shook his head. “I…no, Trev, never. Why would I?”

Trevor sighed. “Have you ever been in a fight period?”

“Well, no. My brother tried to teach me to defend myself but in the end he told me it was pretty hopeless.”

“I don’t get it. Not to be an ass about it, but with your height and build, and given your life-style I’m surprised you’re still in one piece if you can’t take care of yourself out there.”

Kemp smiled ruefully. “I run fast.”

“Yeah well from now on you have to get that solution out of your head. Trust me no matter how fast you can run, even now with your new abilities, a vampyre can still run faster.” Trevor tossed Kemp the knives he’d relieved him of a few moments earlier. “Sheath them and let’s try this again.”

“Better,” Trevor said an hour later, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “You got a few good strikes in. Put them away for now. I’m starved and you have to be at work in an hour.” He watched as Kemp crossed the room, obviously intending to put the silver-bladed knives back in the case Mycroft had given him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“You said…” Kemp looked at him in confusion.

Trevor chuckled. “Obviously I have to be a little more specific. I meant put them away on your body where they belong. Get used to having them with you at all times except when you’re sleeping, and then you keep them where you can get to them quickly.”

“Under my pillow?”

“Only if you sleep like the dead because if you don’t you’ll run the risk of cutting the hell out of yourself. Under the mattress, in the drawer of your bedside table if you have one, and Kemp, once you decide where, then you practice getting to them fast.”

“Yes, sir.” He put them back in their sheaths before asking, “Are we eating here?”

“If you’re willing to risk food poisoning, I’m a lousy cook.”

“I’m not too bad at it, if you have anything to work with.”

Trevor refrained from making any snide remarks about his domesticity, merely nodding. “Not certain I do but have at it.” He pointed to the kitchen.