THE FIRE WITHIN
Chapter Twelve
The next few days were hard on
Christa. Her baby was not with her, and neither was her best friend, but the
battle was coming. It was set for tomorrow. Amsterdam had arranged it so.
Christa held onto him as much as she could. Before the battle, they had gone
into a sort of training. Christa practiced with her knives every day, sometimes
even aiming at real targets so she would get it right. Amsterdam often saw
Christa working hard on her throwing. He just hoped that he did not lose her in
the fight. When Christa had thrown her final knife, a rat squealed. She had a
spare knife, preparing to throw it at the person behind her. She could sense
them. Before she could throw it, Amsterdam caught her hand.
"Amsterdam, I could have
killed you. Never do that when I am practicing." She held the knife in her
hand, throwing it to the ground and fixing her hair.
"I’m sorry, but I wanted to
call you so you could take a break." He looked at her. She was thin and
looked very tired.
"I would, but this is the
only thing that keeps my mind off Michael. I miss him so much." She sat
down, taking a break. She had practiced day and night, non-stop, to keep
herself from thinking about what she was missing.
"I know. I do, too. I
promise you that the first thing we are gonna do is go to Kerry and get
Michael." Amsterdam sat down beside her and put his arm around her.
"All right." She hugged
him, feeling what she hadn’t felt in days--exhaustion.
"Come on, love." He
picked her up.
She leaned against him, feeling
the muscles that had grown on him, since he was in training, too. She stuck her
hand inside his shirt, touching the scars on his chest.
He looked at her. "What are
you doing?"
"Just caressing you."
She looked into his eyes.
When they got to the common room,
all the people were there, eating what they could find. Amsterdam set her down
and took her hand. They passed everyone, including Jenny. She sat there, eating
some fruit. She glanced at Amsterdam and Christa. They looked happy together.
Since Amsterdam was with Christa, Jenny had lost all hope of getting him, so
she had moved on to Johnny. She didn’t really care about him. She just used him
at times. Johnny’s girlfriend, Jean, didn’t know about them. She knew she
should have moved on to someone who wasn’t involved with someone else, but she
didn’t care anymore. She had saved money in a special place since she was
twelve and was going to San Francisco as soon as she could, which would be
tomorrow. She had to tell Amsterdam she was leaving before she could go on her
way, leaving a clean slate.
Christa got a piece of fruit.
Noticing Jenny, she sat beside her. "Hello, Jenny."
"Hi, Christa. Are you really
gonna fight tomorrow?" Jenny looked at her.
"Yeah. Why?" Christa
looked at Jenny. She wondered what she was thinking.
"Just wondering." Jenny
looked over at Amsterdam.
"Ah." She bit into the
fruit.
"I heard you had the baby.
What was it?" Jenny had heard from Johnny about Christa's situation.
"It was a boy. I named him
Michael Vallon." Christa winked over at Amsterdam. He smiled.
"Why Michael?" Jenny
asked, staring at the two making eye contact.
"Amsterdam chose it. He
didn’t tell me why, but I liked it. So we named him that." Christa had
never really asked why Amsterdam wanted to name his son Michael. She just
figured it was a good name.
"How is he?" Jenny
tapped her, breaking her out of her concentration.
"Who? The baby or
Amsterdam?" Christa looked at her.
"Both." Now they were
both looking at Amsterdam.
"Well, the baby, I wouldn’t
know. I sent him to Kerry with Tommy. Amsterdam seems okay. He is very
determined to kill my uncle," Christa said, not caring what Amsterdam
would do to Bill.
"Not to be nosy, but doesn’t
that bother you?" Jenny knew she was asking a question everybody wanted to
ask, but were afraid to say.
"Nope. Not one bit. After
what that son of a bitch has done, I want him dead, too," she said coldly.
"But he’s your blood,
Christa," Jenny reminded her.
"Blood or not, I cannot
forgive him for what he has done. It was a disgrace." Christa hated the
fact that Jenny had asked her the question, because in some part of her she had
liked it when her uncle had treated her nicely, but then she remembered all the
bad times and got mad.
"All right, then."
Jenny looked at her as Christa got up, throwing the pit away. She told Jenny
good-bye and was disgusted with her for asking that question. She went into the
hallway, taking out her knife and stabbing the walls. She was so angry. It was
taking a toll on her.
Amsterdam noticed and called to
her. "Christa!"
She heard him, looked at him, and
started to cry on the ground.
"What’s wrong?" He bent
down, taking her hand.
"Jenny. She was asking all
these questions about me and how I felt about you killing my uncle. I have the
blood of a devil. The fire within me comes from him." She cried, feeling
in more pain as the realization of her heritage was becoming about more than hate,
but about family. He was the only one she had left, besides Tommy.
"Do you want to leave,
Christa?" Amsterdam asked.
"No. It’s just…I just think
I need some rest." She got up, taking his hand.
"Yeah. I think you need
that, too. Come on. Let’s go." He grabbed her hand, taking her to the room
they shared.
As they traveled to their room,
Christa wiped her tears, holding onto Amsterdam, fearing she would lose him
tomorrow forever. It had finally hit her that tonight would probably be their
last night together.
"Amsterdam, make love to me.
I want to remember how you feel for just one night more," she said as they
lay there on the bed.
"What?" He looked at
her, realizing that she was going to die.
"Make love to me," she
repeated.
"Now?" He looked at
her, wanting her, but not under these circumstances.
"Yes, now!" she
demanded.
"But we need our
sleep." He looked into her sad eyes. "Okay. Come here." He
grabbed her hips, taking in the sweet nectar from her lips. He held her tight
against him, feeling her breasts, which were still engorged with milk.
When he stripped her clothes off
her body, she looked totally different now that she was without child. It
reminded him of the first night he had taken her into a blissful passion almost
a year ago. She moaned as he kissed her neck, then took her down to the
mattress and kissed her all over. She held onto his body. It felt so good
against hers. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling.
*****
An hour later, each of them lay
sated by their passion, and fell asleep like they never had before. Amsterdam
snored into the night, dreaming of his son. He saw him standing there, like his
father and he had, taking the blade and saying the blood stays on the blade.
His father, who was now dead because of Bill’s hand, had made him want revenge
ever since that day. In fact, it wasn’t even revenge, it was justice--not only
for himself, but for Christa and Michael, as well.
Christa lay there, peacefully
asleep. She dreamed of herself and Amsterdam playing together with Michael.
They laughed together, and she watched them. She felt happy. She smiled in her
sleep.