by Kallysten
Silent seconds ticked by until Daniel finally glanced back at Simon. “A spell to know if he killed. Get to it."
Simon hadn't even moved yet before Marc added: “And make sure it only picks up on him killing humans, not demons."
At the words, and especially at Simon's quick agreement, Daniel's back stiffened. His expression was grim when he came back to his chair, though whether in annoyance or pain, Kate couldn't have said. He should have had a medic check his leg as soon as they returned. She knew better than to say as much, however, or at least not in front of the others.
Simon was practically buzzing with excitement as he hurried to the second table, already rattling off ingredients under his breath. He often complained about the lack of challenges offered to him and his considerable magical talents, but at the same time he was deathly afraid of demons and could never do serious magic when they were under attack. He had to see this unusual request as a much more interesting—and safe—adventure than exploring the City.
For a little while, Kate, like Daniel, Marc and the others, watched Simon play with small jars of colored powders and bags of dried plants. Magic had never held much attraction for her, however. She had no ability for it, and to her Simon's muttering was no more than gibberish, his mixing of ingredients as strange and foreign as fine cuisine. Growing tired of the spectacle, she drew a chair away from the table where Blake lay and sat astride it. She had angled the chair so as to be able to keep an eye on everyone, from Elliot's sullen stance to Marc's intent observation of Simon to Blake's blatant disinterest.
She still held the crossbow, but she kept it pointed at the floor. She couldn't wait for the spell to give them an answer, one way or the other. It would be easier if Blake hadn't killed anyone, she supposed. She had trouble believing Marc would really kill him if he had. He had called Blake ‘Childe,’ and from what Kate knew of vampires, the relationship between Sires and their Childer was very strong. Then again, from the moment the two vampires had found them in the ruins of the City, she hadn't known what to make of them. Why had they helped her group? Why had they been in the ruins to begin with? Why was Marc so adamant about finding out whether Blake had killed humans, and why did his distrust anger Blake so?
After a moment, Blake turned his head toward her. His piercing dark eyes quickly made her uncomfortable, giving her the impression he knew she was thinking about him and his Sire. Vampire couldn't read minds, could they?
"How often do you kill demons?” she asked, voicing the first question that passed through her mind.
"Whenever we find one.” His lips curved on what could have been a smile, or maybe a grimace. “Same as you, I'd suppose."
At the foot of the table, Marc straightened and turned to observe her, then Blake. His nostrils flared, and he started frowning at Blake, who faced away from Marc, oblivious.
"Is that why you were in the City?” she continued. “To find demons?"
A peculiar gleam lit up Blake's eyes. He rolled onto his side, supporting his head on his closed fist. “We were looking for the breach,” he said slowly, as though waiting for her to recognize the word.
Kate raked her memory, but came up with nothing. “The breach?"
"Some people call it a rip,” he continued, now watching her intently.
Kate sat up straighter, her tiredness forgotten. She glanced at Daniel. His look of excited surprise matched what she felt. The other fighters between them murmured to each other, their feverish words no more than a buzzing in Kate's ears. They had been hoping for a break like this one for far too long.
"We heard rumors,” Daniel said quickly, his eyes going from Marc to Blake, “but we never knew ... Is it really true? Have you seen one before?"
"I have,” Marc replied. “Rips are real."
As unassuming as it was, Kate noticed his use of the singular. She looked at Blake again. He had lain down on his back again, and his eyes were now closed. She frowned briefly before returning her attention to Daniel. Back on his feet, he almost bounced despite his injury.
"How do we close it? Have you done it before? Can you show us?"
Marc raised his hands, palms out, in a calming gesture. “Yes, but not so fast. We have to find the breach first. Was that what you were looking for tonight?"
Daniel glanced at Simon, a frown barely touching his brow for a second. “No. We were doing some reconnaissance."
"You're in charge,” Blake interrupted him, sitting up on the table to throw a scornful glance at him, “and you risk your life on reconnaissance missions? Are you stupid or—"
Without thinking, Kate stood. She purposefully pushed the chair away with a scraping noise. She wanted Blake to look at her and notice she was pointing the crossbow at him again. He had no right to insult Daniel. At the same instant, Marc's voice thundered a single word.
"Childe!"
Blake fell quiet again. He gave Marc an infuriating little smile, before turning it to Kate. His smile widened just enough to reveal his fangs. She glared at him.
"I don't ask anything from my men that I'm not willing to do myself,” Daniel said calmly, as though he hadn't noticed Blake's rudeness nor Marc's and Kate's interventions. “That includes reconnaissance."
That matter settled, Daniel addressed Marc again. “You were talking about closing the rip?"
Before Marc could answer however, Simon exulted.
"Got it! This should do just fine!"
"Should?” Daniel and Marc said at once.
Simon ignored them. Holding a wooden bowl in his cupped hands, he walked closer to Blake and gave him a slightly anxious look. Blake snorted.
"More blood?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “By the time we're done here I'll probably be ready to do what you're accusing me of."
Despite his complaint, however, he held out his hand toward Kate, raising an eyebrow at her. She looked at his palm, a little taken aback to discover that the cut she had inflicted earlier was now no more than a dark pink line that matched the one on his cheek. She chided herself for her surprise. She should have known he would heal very fast. Switching the crossbow to her left hand, she pulled her knife out again and extended her arm toward Blake. She changed her mind at the last second and flipped the knife over, offering him the hilt rather than cutting him again. It was worth it if for nothing more than the surprised look that crossed his features. He gave a slight nod before accepting the knife and quickly reopened the wound.
Simon thrust the bowl toward him and received a few drops of blood. He started chanting even as he threw something inside the bowl. Thin gray smoke rose from the mix along with a vague smell of incense, but already Kate's attention had drifted away. She watched, both repulsed and fascinated, as Blake licked the blade clean before handing it back to her, hilt first. She took it with a grimace and wiped it on her sleeve before sheathing it again.
The smoke lifting from the bowl in sinuous volutes thickened as it surrounded Blake. It turned an almost blinding white. Blake batted at it ineffectually, and Kate had to bite the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't snicker at him.
"That's it,” Simon said, staring at the smoke as though it held all the magical knowledge he hadn't learned yet. “He's clean."
With a mutter that could have been a curse, Blake scrambled off the table. The fog-like smoke clung to him a little longer before finally dissipating.
"You wanted an apology,” Daniel said. “You have it. As well as our hospitality, if you want it."
Blake snorted quietly. “The sun is up,” he pointed out. “It's not like we have much of a choice."
Apparently, learning that Blake hadn't killed wasn't sufficient to appease Marc. He glared at him. “Stop it. You complicated things quite enough already."
Blake's jaw clenched. He rolled his eyes at Marc, but he did remain silent.
"We'll take your hospitality,” Marc said, glancing down at Daniel's thigh and his makeshift bandage. “And I'll tell you what I know about breaches once we've both had some rest."
"I'll show you two where you can sleep.” She handed her crossbow to Elliot. He fumbled with his own as he finally lowered it. Kate didn't pay him any mind. “Come with me."
She didn't wait to see if they followed her; the sound of their steps behind her was enough. She thought quickly as she walked toward the back of the building. Even if Marc and Blake weren't killers, few soldiers would be comfortable sleeping with vampires nearby, so she wouldn't lead them to the sleeping barracks. Moreover, Daniel would want to talk to them before night fell again; having them stay in this building would be best, if not the most comfortable for them.
She led them through two storage rooms, maneuvering around or stepping over rickety piles of supplies. She picked up blankets and sheets from cluttered metal shelves before moving on to the farthest room, where three spare beds were lined up. She dropped the bedclothes on the closest bed and turned to the two vampires. Blake was looking around the small room, inspecting it with a frown. Marc, on the other hand, smiled at her.
"Thank you."
"No problem.” She shrugged, looking back at the beds and feeling a little apologetic. The three beds filled the room almost completely, with barely any space around them. “You'll have to share a room, I'm afraid."
"We're used to it,” Blake said, sounding a little amused. “Usually, the bed is larger, though."
She left them, closing the door behind her, but even as she made her way through the maze of the storage rooms, Blake's last remark stayed with her. She was no innocent, and she had a rather good idea of what he had meant. Just the same, she had trouble imagining them together like that. Somehow, it felt like a waste.
Shaking away the stray thought, she crossed the building again to go to Daniel's office. As she expected, he was in there, though judging by the smell of disinfectant permeating the small room, he had finally had someone look at his leg. She sat down across from him, letting out a grateful sigh as she sunk into the cushioned armchair. It had been a very long night, and it still wasn't over. On the other side of the metal desk covered in maps and reconnaissance sketches, Daniel was leaning back in his chair, fingers woven in front of him. His eyes remained closed when he asked:
"What did you think of Simon tonight?"
Another sigh rose to her lips. She grimaced. “He did about as well as I expected. At least he managed to do some magic this time."
Daniel snorted. “A ball of light and barely enough glamour to cover three people. And he let the other glamour slip so that we lost a truck. If he can hide the camp, he should be able to hide the entire squad when we attack."
"But he did magic in battle,” Kate insisted quietly. “He'll get there. He just needs a bit more time."
Daniel let out a disgruntled noise but didn't answer. They'd had this conversation before. The squad was lucky to count one of the most talented mages of the region, maybe of the entire country, in its ranks. Unfortunately, Simon was deathly afraid of demons and froze in panic at the sight of one. They were working on that, but Daniel's patience was wearing thin.
He finally straightened up and looked at her over his linked fingers. He had washed away the camouflage paint, but his face remained dark. The circles beneath his eyes were deeper than usual, almost purple, and the graying facial hair he hadn't shaved for two days made his cheeks appear sunken, almost hollow.
"So? What do you think of them?"
Kate snickered inwardly at the first answer that came to her. She doubted Daniel cared to hear that she thought they were both attractive. She settled on a more appropriate answer, smiling thinly. “They fight well."
"They're vamps,” he said after a few seconds, his voice expressionless.
Daniel wasn't usually prone to stating the obvious, so Kate resisted her first impulse to tease him about it and tried to figure out what he wasn't saying. The spell they had used told them about their guests’ past feeding habits, but it didn't predict the future. Still, if Daniel had believed they posed a threat to the camp, he wouldn't have offered them hospitality. She frowned, her fingers rapping lightly on the wooden arm of her chair. Was he changing his mind? It wasn't like him to go back on his word.
"The information they have—"
He shook his head, stopping her. “Of course. I said they could stay. I meant that. I'm just not sure how long to extend the invitation."
"Why? We can't afford to be picky. If they offer their help, we should take it. Especially if what they said about that ... breach is true."
He sighed. “I know. And I wish it were that easy. But some of the men are already grumbling about having vamps here, claiming it's all lies."
As soon as he said it, Kate was sure she knew whom they were talking about. She grimaced. They had lost a good ally before—a friend—because of irrational fears. Maybe it could be different, this time.
"Want me to talk to them?"
The shadow of a smile pulled at Daniel's lips. He raised an eyebrow. She grinned.
"Let me amend that. Want me to shake some sense into them?"
He chuckled. With time, he had learned to appreciate the very particular way she took care of discipline. “Not this time. We'll see if our guests decide to stay with us, and play it by ear. Keep an eye on them for me, though, will you?"
She didn't ask if she was to protect the vampires from the soldiers or the opposite. Both, she imagined. She was grinning when she left Daniel. Even the prospect of dragging a cot to sleep by the storage rooms didn't sour her mood. She had a feeling that life would be anything but dull with Marc and Blake around.
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Chapter 4
"I guess it will do for one day.” Blake frowned in distaste at their surroundings before turning an almost suspicious look at Marc. “You don't plan on staying more than a day, right? You're not going to start spouting about your damn pacts again, are you?"
Ignoring him, Marc looked around the small room. Windowless, it couldn't have been more than eight feet by seven, with three narrow metal beds as the only furniture. Unlike in the main part of the building, a paneled ceiling towered at eight or nine feet above them. A dirty light bulb hung from it, flickering. They had slept in worse quarters. At least, they wouldn't need to worry about sunlight.
Blake groaned aloud, taking his silence for a reply. He shook his head and slapped his forehead with his hand in an exaggerated dramatic gesture. “Please, tell me we're not going to stay with this pathetic lot."
A stern look quieted him at last. He crossed his arms, sullen. Annoyed by his attitude ever since they had reached the fighters’ camp, Marc threw a set of bed sheets at him, hitting him in the chest. Blake scrambled not to let the linens fall on the dusty floor.
"Make yourself useful instead of whining,” he said, and, picking up the second set of sheets, turned to the closest bed.
"I'm not whining."
Blake dropped the sheets on a bed and came closer. Standing of his full height, he tried to glare down at Marc. Wouldn't he ever learn?
"And you haven't answered my question. How long do you plan to stay here?"
Marc finished making the bed before turning to him and returning his glare. “You answer my question, Childe. When did you feed from a human?"
The smallest movement in Blake's jaw revealed he was grinding his teeth. It was his only reaction that Marc could see. Even his scent didn't change, but then, it had held the dry sourness of irritation ever since they had arrived at the camp.
"Last town we crossed,” he replied. “That pretty blonde at the hotel. Not that it's any of your business."
A flash of white-hot anger raced through Marc. Crossing the short distance between them, he fisted his hand in Blake's shirt and pulled him closer until they were practically nose-to-nose. A thin thread of fear wove itself in Blake's scent, brittle as rusting iron.
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"You are my business,” he said, keeping his voice very low. “Everything you do is my business. Especially when you do something this moronic. I told you not to feed off humans, didn't I? I told you it'd get you killed. And then you go behind me back and lie to me? You idiot!"
Blake kept very still for most of the tirade, but those last growled words seemed to set him off. With both hands flat on Marc's chest, he pushed hard. Marc could have held on, but he chose to let go and took a step back. As angry as he was with his unruly Childe, this was not the time or place to fight with him and teach him manners—again.
". did not lie,” Blake said, spitting the words as though they were venom on his tongue. “I never said I wouldn't take from humans if they offered..—” He insisted on the word again, now almost shouting. “—never lied to you."
Watching the too familiar pain on Blake's features and the still outraged fire in his eyes, seeing just how tense he was, hands fisted at his sides and body poised on the edge of an attack, Marc understood at last what all of this was about. They weren't talking anymore about a too welcoming human girl and what Blake had done with her. His anger drained from him, replaced by a tired wariness. He sighed.
"Childe..."
Blake turned away and picked up the bed sheets again. Rather than making the bed next to Marc's, he threw the sheet over the third one, at the other end of the small room, as though putting distance between them, as little as it was, suddenly mattered.
"You still haven't answered,” he said coldly without looking back at Marc. “How long are we staying here?"
"I have apologized,” Marc said, addressing his back. “Repeatedly. Which is more than you deserved, given your attitude. I've been tolerant and let you get away with too much, too often. I've done everything I possibly could to make it up to you. And you—” He took in a deep breath and forced himself to lower his voice again. “You just won't let it go, will you?"
Still not looking at him, Blake toed off his shoes and plopped himself onto the bed, arms crossed behind his head. “I have no idea what you're rambling about."
