The next few weeks pass in a restless blur.

I arrive at the police station early every morning. Alex has me doing physical training until lunch. Then I get to rest my muscles for a bit while we cover other aspects of my training, learning, acting, stealth, and the ways dark-siders live. We always finish with an extra half hour of physical training, before Alex finally lets me go. I continue to practice every night. Sometimes with Faye, Sometimes by myself.

Some days Alex and I stay at the police station. Other days, we go out on 'excursions', as Alex calls them. They take me out into the town centre to practice sneaking around unseen, or to fighting matches to watch the professionals at work.

They even get me interacting with a few of Faye's clients, claiming to be her business associate. My stomach is in knots every time, but the criminals don't seem to suspect a thing. The careless cruelty with which I speak, and the dagger I flaunt with growing skill, are enough to convince any of them of my supposed unsavoury nature.

Alex watches every miniscule move I make, offering advice either openly in private, or through my earpiece in public. I become accustomed to their voice in my ear.

They continue with their lessons as well.

Lesson five: There is always a way out. Sometimes you might need to wait, and sometimes you might need to think outside the box, but the answer will always exist.

Taught when I get stuck alone in a lift at the police station.

The door won't budge no matter how many buttons I press. I try to pry the metal open with my bare hands, but all I achieve is snapping a few nails. I slump down on the floor in defeat.

"Think, Kora." Alex says calmly through my earpiece. "Look around you."

I look slowly, taking in every detail. The solid patterned floor. The keypad of buttons. The LED screen telling me I'm on floor 1. The metal bar, and the mirror above. And above everything else, the tiled ceiling.

I fly upwards to inspect the tiles more closely. One panel is different from the rest; an air vent designed to blend in. The difference can only be seen from up close.

I give it a hard shove. The panel flips open. But before I can fly out, the lift door opens to reveal a smiling Alex.

Lesson six: Trust no one unless they have proven themselves worthy of it. Whoever they claim to be is irrelevant.

Taught when I realise Alex purposefully stopped the lift to create a new kind of training exercise for me.

Lesson seven: Don't consume any food or drink offered by a dark-sider. You can accept it. You can pretend to consume it. But by eating their food you risk ingesting negative energy, or potentially even poison. You don't know what they may have done to it.

This one I hear Alex say through my earpiece while meeting one of Faye's clients.

We arranged to meet in a bar, and I arrive to discover a drink already waiting for me at the table. I decline it, saying I'm not in the mood for wine, and order a cocktail for myself instead. It's all an act, of course. I would love a glass of wine, but I'm not willing to risk it being spiked.

The meeting runs smoothly, until a drunk picks a fight with the client. My face remains neutral, but horror curdles my stomach as I watch feet and fists swinging.

In an even more unfortunate turn of events, the drunk seems to have brought some friends along. One of them sidles up beside me. He rests a possessive hand on my thigh.

"Get out of there. Now." Alex orders.

I leap to my feet, ignoring the man's slurred protests, and hurry out of the bar.

Lesson eight: Know when to fight and when to run. Always weigh the benefits against the odds before getting into a fight.

This is how Alex greets me when I meet them in a nearby street. We left the bar separately to avoid any suspicion. I'm supposed to be working alone on behalf of Faye, and a client realising I left the bar with someone else could blow the entire cover of Faye's business.

"Talk me through it." I reply.

"Forgetting the brawl for a moment, you were outnumbered three to one with the drunk guy's friends. They were also drunk, and seeking out either blood or flesh. Or possibly both. Being drunk can make a person aggressive but uncoordinated. You likely had the upper-hand against the one who touched you, but the other two waiting on the side-lines would've stepped in. You probably would've put up a good fight, but would've ultimately lost against the combination of all three of them. You have not been training in hand-to-hand combat, and they all appeared to be bigger and stronger than you.

"You only had two things to gain from staying in that bar: showing those men not to mess with you, and completing the deal with the client. Considering your defeat would erase the former, you would realistically only be left with the latter. However, you do not know the state the client will be left in, and business can be conducted another time. Therefore, the benefits simply were not worth the assured defeat." Alex shrugs.

"And you calculated all that in the matter of, what, a second?" I ask. "Your brain works a lot faster and sharper than mine."

"It's not natural talent." They assure me. "It simply comes with practice and experience."

"I don't have as long as you've had." I scoff, shaking my head.

They smile sadly. "No, but you've got more time yet. The flute's exact location is still a mystery, and you'll keep training until that mystery is solved. I reckon you'll have a few more weeks with me yet."

"I sure hope so."

"Good. Now go home and get some rest. I have something exciting planned for tomorrow."

"A new weapon to learn?" I ask wearily. It has felt like an incredibly long day.

"You'll just have to wait and see." They wink at me, before slinking away into the shadows.