Languorous. Flowing. Forceful, but still fluid in her body and mind.

“You must remember how your body feels right now. How you control every muscle, every bone, every joint and tendon. Deliberate. Everything must be deliberate. That is what will enable you to control yourself when your senses have been heightened, so you will not become overwhelmed. If I had known this discipline when I had first turned, my younger years would have been much more pleasant.”

They moved as mirrors of each other, an achingly slow ballet of combat forms, pared to their most essential movements. This was not about speed or strength; it was about the total focus of the mind and body. The meditation of the mind was as central as the physical control.

“What were you like when you were younger?”

Tenzin paused, and Beatrice wondered if the secretive vampire would answer her.

“I was very angry and very violent. Why doesn’t Giovanni want you to turn?”

She sighed and closed her eyes, moving through the familiar movements.

Bend. Sweep. Push. Yield.

“He’s sentimental, for one. He uses the idea of one of us being available during the day for Ben as an excuse, but it’s not really what’s bothering him.”

“What is it, then? Your human life is a liability at this point.”

“I agree, but he’s pretty stubborn.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s worried about the motherhood thing, to be honest. He thinks I’m going to turn and then regret not having children.”

Tenzin snorted. “So you’ll adopt.”

“That’s what I told him. We already have Ben, for heaven’s sake. If we want more children someday, we can adopt, but he thinks I’ll regret not giving birth or something. It’s not something I take lightly, but being pregnant, especially when it wouldn’t be his, isn’t something that I consider vital to happiness.”

“It’s not. And pregnancy doesn’t make you a mother. I gave birth to three children, but I was only mother to one.”

Beatrice stumbled back, stunned by Tenzin’s admission. The vampire just looked at her, clearly annoyed she had fumbled their practice. She stepped closer, pushing Beatrice to mirror her graceful movements.

Bend. Stretch. Push. Yield.

“How old were you?”

“When I birthed my children?” Tenzin shrugged, moving into a more complex routine. “Focus. I have no idea. We didn’t celebrate birthdays back then. I’d been bleeding for one winter when I became pregnant with my first child.”

“What—”

“She was small. She didn’t survive the winter. Neither did her father.”

Bend. Sweep. Push. Yield.

“Your husband died, too?”

She frowned, folding at the waist as they swept down into a new form. “I suppose you could call him my husband. His older brother took me after that. He already had a wife, but she hadn’t given him any children, so he took me. I was luckier with him. My babies were born in the spring the following year, and both survived.”

“What happened to them?” Beatrice concentrated on keeping her tone easy as they moved. She was shocked Tenzin was sharing as much as she was.

“The oldest one, the stronger one, was given to my husband’s first wife. I was allowed to keep the second child. He was small, but strong.”

Her mind was still reeling at the casual tone in which Tenzin was relating her story. She almost sounded like she was talking about an acquaintance. They continued to move with each other, as Beatrice focused on her breath and the stretch of her muscles.

Bend. Stretch. Push. Yield.

“Where did you live?”

“It was on the Northern steppes. I have no idea where exactly. I lived in a village that was raided a lot. That’s how I was turned.”

“What happened?” She held her breath, half expecting Tenzin to clam up. She didn’t.

“We were raided one day, and the first wife sent me out to check the goats. They never took everything—how else would we have more goats for them the next time they came? But she wanted to know how many we had left and if any kids had dropped, so she sent me out after dark. I was happy to go. My son had been crying and he always liked it better when I walked, so I tied him to my back and went out to check the pens. There were three men there.”

“The raiders?”

Tenzin cocked an eyebrow and moved into a new routine. “No, definitely not. These ‘men’ didn’t need horses to get around.”

“They were vampires,” Beatrice whispered.

“Yes, they were vampires.”

She fell silent for a few moments, and Beatrice saw her close her eyes as she moved through the forms.

Bend. Push. Sweep. Yield.

Even though her heart ached, and part of her didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, Beatrice still asked.

“What happened?”

“They were feeding on the goats, but stopped when they heard me. My son started crying, and I tried to hush him so I could run away, but they were already coming toward me. I thought they were demons of some kind; they moved so fast. They swept me up and took me away.”

“And your son?” she whispered.

Tenzin paused for only a second in her silent exercise.

“He fell to the ground. He was crying when they took to the air. It’s possible someone from the village found him. Probably not.”

Tears fell down Beatrice’s cheeks, but Tenzin’s eyes were still closed, silently practicing the meditative forms of the tai chi routine. Her face was serene, and her hair flowed around her, brushing her shoulders as they moved together.