I didn"t get to talk to Vincent on Monday, or Tuesday or Wednesday, or that entire week. Every time I saw him he was in a bad mood, though bad was a gentle word. And it wasn"t as if I could ask, “Yo, Vincent, is Elizabeth Mwara"s mother?” I wanted to ease into the topic–just in case the kid was right–and, he gave me no opening to broach the topic.
Most of my training happened in the gym and was crammed with muscle building, endurance building and some focus building–keeping my body occupied with exercise while Vincent explained about traditions, cultures and rules of the preternatural world.
He"d make me run for hours, bench-press, do pull-ups and push-ups until I could no longer command the muscles of my body. He"d be right there beside me, running and pressing and talking, rarely break
