Grampire’s standing on the porch when I get back, hands on her hips. Her eyes are extra red in the dark. “And why aren’t you in the form I left you in?”

  I hesitate, but just for a second. If she were Aunt Magnolia, I wouldn’t even dream of lying because she’d smell Fern’s scent all over me. But vampires have human noses except for blood, and Fern didn’t break my skin. She doesn’t have to know I was hanging out with my cousin (and getting my ass handed to me the whole time). “I was practicing. My wolf form is stronger, so I thought that would be the best to train with.”

  Grampire seems surprised, then pleased. “Perfect! Glad to see you taking your training seriously.” Grampire steps into her yard, expertly dodging all the debris. “Come here, we don’t got all night.”

  I follow her, dread hanging low in my belly. “I don’t have to fight you, do I?”

  Grampire lets out a harsh laugh. “Absolutely not! I won’t toss you into the fire just yet.”

  I’m not comforted by that “yet,” but I don’t say anything. She leads me halfway to the pond before we stop.

  “Now, before we get started, you need to know the basics. You never been in a fight, correct?”

  I shake my head. “No, never.”

  “Okay. The key is to disable your opponent as fast as you can. All the power in the world won’t save you if you don’t bring them down.”

  I nod, still a little anxious. “How should I do it?”

  “If you’re fighting something alive, or used to be alive, they got the same weak points.” Grampire points to her red eyes. “Eyes.” She lowers her hand to her neck. “Throat.” She lowers her hand again to rest it on her stomach. “Belly. And genitals.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the last one. Eww. I mean, it makes sense, but yuck.

  Grampire notices my displeasure and nudges me with her croc. I’m not expecting so much force behind it and she almost knocks me over. “Grow up, kid. I’m trying to save your life.”

  “I know, I know. But I’m a werewolf, so I’ll be biting mostly…”

  Grampire hacks out a laugh. “True, never thought about that. Use your claws in the nether regions then. But don’t underestimate the weakness.” Grampire turns around and points to her back. “If you’re fighting something human shaped, a blow to the kidneys is always a kick in the teeth.”

  “It works on vampires too?”

  “What did I just say? I’m human shaped, ain’t I?”

  Huh. I guess it makes sense. I just can’t image anyone—or anything—attacking Grampire and living.

  “But you wanna concentrate on the main four. In any living thing, human shaped or not, that’s the way to go. Eyes to blind and confuse ‘em, throat for the kill, belly to maim, downstairs to disable. And humiliate, if you’re fighting an arrogant prick.”

  I feel like I should be taking notes. Eyes, throat, belly, ignoring the last one because gross. ETB. I mentally repeat the acronym while Grampire keeps talking.

  “You should always go for the kill in my opinion, but I imagine you got a problem with that?”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Grampire waves her hand dismissively. “In that case, just focus on the eyes and belly. Scratch out the eyes for starters, and jelly legs like Jerry will tuck tail and run. But some folks are gonna be more determined, so you gotta go for the belly.”

  “Couldn’t I just grab the hypothetical mean monster by the throat? Won’t they pass out?”

  Grampire rolls her eyes. “I swear, these young guns got no experience. Do you know how long you gotta strangle someone ‘til they pass out? I’ll tell you—long enough for their death flail to hurt you bad. You snap your teeth around someone’s throat, you better rip and tear, and you better aim to kill ‘em.”

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  I don’t say anything. I’m thinking about Uncle Alder, mouth stretched wide, his sharp teeth cutting into my neck. But I didn’t do a death flail. I just screamed and tried to get away. Nowhere in my instincts did I even think to fight back.

  I think this training session is going to be a bad one.

  Grampire claps her hands. “Now! Test time.” Grampire wades in the tall grass, cursing a bit, until she finds something. She straightens and brings it back to me. It’s a long, fluffy tube—oh, one of those long decorative pillows old ladies love to put on couches. It’s covered in mud and dried strings of grass cling to the stained fabric. She holds it out to me.

  “Bite this.”

  I lean away. “No thanks.”

  Grampire looks annoyed. “I need to see how strong your chompers are. Gotta have a baseline for what I’m working with.”

  “But it’s dirty,” I whine.

  Grampire looks like she’s about to throw the filthy cushion at me. “Just do it. Don’t argue.”

  I don’t want to do this! This sucks already! But I also don’t want Grampire to be mad at me, so I pick the cleanest part is the cushion and take a small bite. The scratchy texture against my teeth gives me full body willies.

  “That all you got?” Grampire grunts.

  I let go and spit into the grass. “I guess? I’ve never bitten anyone before. Not, like, for real.”

  Grampire sighs the longest sigh I’ve ever heard. “Okay. Hold on.” Grampire searches at our feet for something, then picks up a fallen tree branch. It’s thick and covered in wilted oak leaves. Grampire shoves in front of my nose. “We gotta change your mindset. Don’t think of this as someone living right now. It’s just a branch.”

  “Okay…”

  “And this branch needs to be snapped in half. For…” Grampire trails off, thinking. “For firewood, in the winter. I don’t need warmth, but you do.”

  Well, that makes sense. I hope I’m back home, snuggly and warm in my shared room with Fern, by winter, but I can’t argue with Grampire here. I’ve never had to chop firewood, and I don’t think my noodly human arms are strong enough.

  I square my shoulders and eye the branch. It’s about the thickness of my wrist, so not too bad. It looks a bit rotten too, so I bet I can do it. I jump at the tree limb and clamp my jaws around it. My teeth slide through the softened wood easily, and the entire branch comes apart in my mouth. I gag as wet, rotten wood shards hit my tongue, but I’m able to spit most of them out at my feet.

  “Good,” is all Grampire says, but she seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. My tail wags by itself.

  “Did I pass the test?” I ask Grampire. Maybe that’s all the training I’ll have to do today, and I can be free to relax—

  “Not bad, but there’s always room for improvement,” Grampire says. My tail droops. Grampire doesn’t notice, because she’s sweeping her gaze back and forth over the ground, muttering soft curses. She pauses and bends, wincing, and comes back up holding what looks like a metal cookie sheet. It’s rusted from the elements, and grass clings to the back of it in a gross wad. Bits of metal and rust flake off as she shakes it free of the grass. “Let’s test them claws.”

  My ears press flat against my head. I’ve never used my claws for anything except digging holes at the beach, or preparing garden soil for plants. “I don’t think I’ll use them in battle. I’m not a cat.”

  “You gonna bite a crazy dude’s dick off?” Grampire raises her eyebrows in a challenge. I stay silent, my stomach queasy at the mere thought, and Grampire snorts. “That’s what I thought. Scratch this pan as hard as you can. Give it all you got.”

  Grampire holds up the cookie sheet to eye level. I size it up uneasily, then look at my paws. One normal, one obsidian black from the curse. My nails are dull and brittle, probably even duller than the rest of my family and definitely Fern’s. I’ve never fought before, but Rowan once bragged about how he helped Uncle Alder fight off an intruder before I joined the pack. He said his nails grew long and sharp when danger was near.

  Maybe that’s what I have to do. Visualize an enemy. I stare down the innocent cookie sheet and imagine it as a dangerous, err…beast? I can’t picture what on earth I’d have to fight with Grampire around. Not even imagining Jerry works, because I’d feel bad about scratching his old man face, especially after he already lost two teeth.

  “Today,” Grampire complains, a sharp edge to her voice.

  I take a breath and spring forward, my right paw extended. I hope my claws will sharpen at the last second, but they don’t. My blunt nails glance off the metal, sending a horrible tingle up my arm, to my chest, up to my teeth and ears. My body shivers and I swipe my paws over my ears, whining. Ugh, that sucks! Metal and claws do not mix.

  “Well, that could be better.”

  I look up, eyes watering a little from the unpleasant resonance, and Grampire shows me what I did. The pan is largely unscathed, but there are four shallow white lines in a slash across the sheet. Rust flakes off where my claws dug in, but the sheet is still intact.

  “At least something happened?”

  “Yeah, but I’d expect you to tear clean through something so thin and rusty. You’re holding back.”

  Before I can protest, Grampire tosses the pan behind her and picks up the soggy pillow. She nods away from the house, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

  “Whatever, we’ll move on. Lots more to take care of.”

  Grampire seems happy again, but my stomach is sinking. I don’t like Grampire’s tests so far, and based on her gleeful expression, I’m gonna hate this one even more.

  Grampire strides purposefully away from the house, heading into the darker part of her land. “Come on, we’re ready for part two. Hurry up now.”

  I sigh as Grampire heads toward the pond. Goddess, save me. The moon goddess doesn’t answer, but as Grampire turns to glare at me, I hurry after her to continue my training.