by Kallysten
"You either put the sword down right now,” she said, as calmly as she could muster, “or I'll first kick your ass with this, and then I'll kick your ass out of the squad."
Her words had the desired effect and Elliot's arm faltered. “You can't!"
He wasn't denying she could best him in a fight. They both knew from experience she was more than able to do it. His disbelief, she was sure, was at the idea that she would send him away for fighting with a vampire.
"She most certainly can,” Daniel said in a loud voice somewhere behind her. “And you still haven't put the sword down."
Elliot finally lowered his arm. Kate looked at the line of soldiers who had been looking at the fight. Sammy was there, fresh out of the infirmary. Next to him, Huan stood with his arms crossed and a slightly uncomfortable look on his face that matched Wally's, two steps away. The others were smirking or grinning, amused by what had happened. Idiots; she'd deal with them in a minute. At her nod, Huan stepped forward and took the sword from Elliot's hand.
"You just volunteered for a double shift on the perimeter,” she told Elliot.
His eyes widened incredulously. “But I pulled a double yesterday!"
"And you also pulled a bare blade on the Major's guest. Go, before I assign you there all week.” She gave him a once-over and amended her command. His clothing was torn and bloody on both forearms, shoulders and thighs, the cuts mirroring each other too precisely for a coincidence. “Swing by the infirmary beforehand. Last thing we need is for you to get an infection."
With a disgruntled grumble, Elliot walked away, head high and back stiff, his hands fisted at his sides. Shaking her head lightly, Kate looked again at the few soldiers that remained in the room. Her eyes went from one to the next, cold and reproving.
"So, no one but Sky thought there was anything wrong going on here?"
A few of them looked away. A couple shrugged.
"They were just sparring,” Sammy said, not quite meeting her eyes.
She didn't even dignify that with an answer. She merely pointed at the blood on the blade of the sword she still held. As she did so, she realized for the first time that the weapon wasn't one of the squad's. The finely detailed guard rested over thick steel. When she turned the sword lightly into the light, she could see words engraved in very small letters, though she had no idea what they meant—or even if they were really words.
"Can I have him back?” Blake asked.
He walked closer to her, holding out his hand. She glared at him. Her people should have known better, but Blake wasn't guiltless, either.
"What were you trying to do, exactly?” she asked, raising her chin to meet his eyes squarely. “Kill him? I thought we showed you last night we don't take well to vampires killing humans."
"He was only playing with your man."
Surprised, she turned her frown to Marc. Standing just a few feet away by Daniel, arms crossed, he was looking at Blake with a strange mix of anger and resignation.
"Playing?” Daniel repeated, his voice very mild. “Fighting with a sword is no game."
"I know that as well as you do. I'm afraid that Blake is still learning."
"And Blake can damn well speak for himself,” Blake said. He was looking at Daniel when he asked again, “Can I have my sword back now?"
"Kate,” Daniel said simply.
She twisted her hold on the sword to hand it back to him hilt first. He took it with a shallow nod.
"Thank you."
She watched as he wiped the traces of blood that stained the blade of the sword on the dark fabric of his shirt sleeve before sliding the sword back into the scabbard on his back. Meanwhile, Daniel invited Marc to return to the office and finish their discussion.
"We'll talk about this later, Childe,” Marc called out to Blake before following Daniel.
Blake reacted by rolling his eyes and took Kate as witness. “Do I look like a kid to you? Because honestly, sometimes I wonder if he thinks I'm twelve or something."
Despite herself, she cracked a smile. “It might help if you didn't act as though you were twelve."
She expected another roll of his eyes, but he surprised her by chuckling.
"Yeah, well, I've got to find my fun where I can. Plus, it's your fault. If you'd sparred with me, I wouldn't have been bored enough to take that guy up on his offer."
Kate mentally filed away the fact that Elliot had been the one to initiate this. She'd add another double shift guarding the perimeter for that. It was the assignment he liked the least, like every soldier who had joined the squad for ‘adventure,’ as they called it. If the squad didn't always need more recruits, she would have weeded out a few of them.
"Yes, you would have,” she replied. “After the workout your Sire gave me, I wouldn't have lasted two minutes against you. Then you'd have been bored, and . would have been humiliated."
He gave her a crooked smile, just this side of a leer. “Two minutes does sound much too short to do you justice."
She shook her head at the innuendo. If she hadn't heard him complain about the way Marc looked at her, she might have started worrying about his intentions by now. What she was really worried about, however, was what mischief he would get up to if she returned to Daniel's office. She'd catch up on what Marc had to say later, she decided. She already knew the most important—he had helped close a breach before, and he would be able to do it again.
She looked at Blake, considering. If they wanted Marc's help, keeping Blake out of trouble might be useful.
"Twelve years old or not, I guess I'd better keep an eye on you,” she said, softening her words by making them teasing. “Is this still too early for you to eat?"
He shrugged, his nonchalance so much at odds with the smug glance he threw toward Daniel's office that she was sure she must have misinterpreted it.
"It's all right. I don't really have set eating hours."
"Let's do that, then. This way."
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Chapter 7
As Blake and Kate passed by Daniel's office on their way to the kitchen, Blake couldn't help throwing a quick glance in through the open door. He caught a glimpse of Marc leaning forward in an armchair and shaking his head, but didn't try to listen in. He knew Marc's intentions all too well; they had been the same since he had first met him, eighty-three years earlier. Help humans by combating demons. Blake's list of priorities was just a little different, with the fight against demons coming first and foremost, always. It was, after all, why he had asked Marc to turn him.
The kitchen was across the building from the bathroom and about as large. The fluorescent tubes flickered on when they entered, buzzing lightly, and their light reflected off the gleaming resin countertops all around the room. Kate walked straight to a large chest-like freezer and rummaged inside it for a few seconds.
"Sit down,” she told him, her voice muffled as she dug a little deeper. “This will only take ... ah ah!"
Blake looked around, and, finding no chair to use, hopped onto the countertop behind him. His scabbard wasn't designed to work all that well when he was seated, and the sword stuck at an odd angle over his shoulder. When Kate showed him, triumphant, the bag of blood she had found, she raised an amused eyebrow at him but said nothing. As she turned away to the instant oven, he unhooked the snap on his chest that held the scabbard tightly in place before sliding the harness off one shoulder, then the other. He rested Seneca behind him and returned his attention to Kate. Standing by the oven, she briefly consulted a note taped to the side before programming the device.
"Do you do this often?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “I haven't met many humans who know how to warm up blood for vamps, or who would care to even try."
She rested her hands against the counter behind her and leaned back against it. She was smiling as she answered, but her voice held a bittersweet note. “You're not the first vampires we've had here."
Blake had suspected as much; that windowless ro
om, as claustrophobic as it may be, was just perfect for a vampire.
"So, you learned to warm blood for him, then?” he asked, fishing for more information. “I don't suppose you brought him breakfast in bed."
She gave him a small eye roll, then turned to the beeping microwave. “Not that it changes anything, but it was a she. And no, I don't do room service."
Holding the bag by a corner, she gingerly pulled it out of the microwave and turned to Blake. He placed his hands in front of him, palms up, and after a second of hesitation, she threw him the bag. He caught it easily despite her aim being a little off, and almost dropped it again the next second. It was indeed very hot. He passed it back and forth between his hands, quickly enough that he wouldn't get burned, waiting for the blood to cool down a little.
"There are glasses in the cupboard behind you,” Kate offered as she hoisted herself to sit on the counter opposite him.
"It's OK. Less clean-up if I just bite through."
The frown emerged on her forehead and was gone again in no more time than it took Blake to shift the blood bag from his right hand to the left.
"My friend always said the blood would taste like plastic if she did that."
Blake shrugged. “Not any more than water would if you drank it from a plastic glass. Maybe she just wanted to look more ... human."
"Maybe,” she conceded, her eyes unfocused as she looked at a spot on Blake's right. “That would be like her.” She shook her head as though chasing a memory and returned her eyes to him. “Something tells me you don't care about looking more human."
"Why would I? I'm not human, am I?"
The blood seemed to have cooled down enough by now; he brought the bag to his mouth and let his fangs elongate before he bit through in the upper corner. A light squeeze had a mouthful of hot blood flooding his mouth. He let it wash over his tongue, enjoying the rich, slightly metallic taste, then swallowed and pulled another mouthful from the bag
"No, you're definitely not,” Kate said, the sliver of a laugh warming her voice. “What does it taste like?"
Blake thought about it as he continued to empty the bag. He could tell her it was salty, and a little coppery, but he didn't think that was what she was really asking about. When humans asked that question, they were after something deeper than a description, even if ‘taste’ was the only way they knew how to ask. He soon had finished his meal. He caught a stray droplet on his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and gave Kate the best answer he had ever come up with.
"Have you ever had fresh bread?” he asked. “Just out of the oven, so hot you burn your fingertips when you go to cut that first slice, and it tastes like heaven because you've been waiting for it to be ready, all the while breathing in the smell that spread all around your house?"
A corner of her mouth twitched in a slim half-smile. “My mom used to make bread,” was all she said.
Blake nodded and held on to her gaze. “That hot, fresh bread? That's what it's like to take blood from a human. They burn in your arms, and their scent is all around you, and as much as you want to make it last, take it slow, you can't wait and just have to bite down. And then when you have to stop...” He chuckled. “Not any easier than stopping after that first slice of warm bread."
Kate's heartbeat jumped, and she blinked twice, very fast, hiding oversized pupils that almost swallowed the gray of her eyes. How had he never noticed until now what an unusual color her eyes were, Blake wondered, surprised.
"Drinking from a blood bag,” he continued, sliding off the counter, “it's a bit like warming up that bread the next day. It's still good, but with each mouthful you feel like there's something missing.” He crossed the kitchen, standing in front of her for a second. Her hands were gripping the edge of the counter, and he could have sworn she was shaking. “You remember what it was like before and...” He pitched the empty bag into the trash basket beneath the counter where she sat. “It's just gone."
She let out a bark of nervous laughter. Blake retreated back to his counter; it wouldn't help to make her uncomfortable.
"Does that mean you don't care for seconds?” she asked, her voice not quite yet back to normal.
He tried to give her his gentlest smile. “I've had enough. And it was fine, really. Much better than what I've had recently."
She raised an eyebrow at that, her nervousness receding. “Was it? I thought you had warm, fresh bread recently."
"If, by recent, you mean eight days ago, then yes. It's been animal blood since then."
She nodded slowly and observed him for a little while. Her feet swung back and forth in the air with the small movements of someone who wasn't accustomed to being still for very long. Blake merely waited for the additional questions he was sure would come. He didn't mind them. Better curiosity and questions than outright hostility and fear. He didn't mind staying here with her either, even if he was done feeding. The kitchen felt more intimate than the too-large space outside of it, without being confining.
"Marc was telling us about the breach,” she finally said. “Did you work on closing it with him?"
Taken aback, Blake didn't react for a few seconds. He hadn't expected her to change topics so radically. When he replied, it was with deliberate slowness, each word detached from the others.
"I did not."
She tilted her head to one side, puzzled, then pushed herself off the counter. “Why not?” she asked while rummaging in the cupboard behind her. “From what I've seen, you're not opposed to a good fight. Can you give me a mug? Behind you."
In her hands, the canister of insta-coffee told him what she wanted the mug for. He slid off the counter and grabbed two of them in the cupboard, filling them both halfway up with water at the sink before he brought them to her.
"Thanks.” She dropped a spoonful of powder in each mug before placing both in the instant oven. “You like coffee, then?"
He snorted. “Yes, I liked coffee. Real coffee. I doubt you've ever had any, though. It was already rare when I was still human."
She gave him a gauging look. “And how long ago was that?"
The oven beeped. They each took a mug, and Blake returned to his side of the kitchen.
"Let's just say if you add up my human life and my vampire years, I'm over a hundred."
She took a sip and pondered his words. “You don't look much older than twenty,” she said thoughtfully. “So that would mean you were turned about eighty years ago?"
He raised his mug toward her. “Clever. Something like that, yes."
The best thing that could be said about insta-coffee was that it had a taste. Beyond the name, though, very little remained of the actual beverage. Blake hid his grimace in his mug and kept taking small sips.
"You still didn't tell me how come you didn't fight at that breach,” Kate said. “Or should I just drop the subject?"
Blake almost asked her to drop the question, but something very different came out of his throat. “He told you about Jen?"
She nodded.
"Let's just say she wasn't too fond of me. Said I had no respect for my elders. So I wasn't invited on that little trip."
He tried to wash away the bitterness with another mouthful of coffee. Across from him, Kate finished her mug and proved to Blake, with just a few words, that she was a fighter before anything else. He was suddenly more determined than ever to seduce her before he and Marc moved on.
"That's tough. To be left out of such a big fight...” She shook her head, smiling a little. “I would have raised hell."
Blake chuckled. “Why do you think I drive him crazy every chance I get?"
She laughed, head thrown back and exposing her throat. Blake's eyes caressed the lovely curve and he wondered idly if she'd let him bite her before the end.
* * * *
"What I don't understand,” Daniel said when Simon had left them and he had turned off the recorder, “is why it took you six years to try and find another breach."
Marc shifted on
his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Try as he might, he couldn't manage to put any sort of feeling in his words, and they came out icy. In time, maybe, he would learn to look back on those years without a sense of failure sliding over him like cold mud.
"You misunderstood me. We didn't close the breach six years ago. We found it then. It took the mages four years of trial and error to come up with the right ritual. Then we stayed there for a little more than a year to clean off the demons that were left in the region and make sure the breach was closed for good. And after that...” He shrugged, not quite meeting the man's eyes. “I needed a break. We only started hunting for a new breach recently."
Daniel whistled quietly. “Four years of trying to get that spell right?"
"Yes. But none of the mages we had with us was above an average level. From what I saw of Simon last night..."
He left the rest unvoiced, waiting to see how Daniel would reply.
"Oh, yes, we're lucky there. Simon is very good.” A brief frown crossed his face before he leaned in toward Marc, his smile taking a conspiratorial turn. “I have to be very careful what I tell my superiors, or they'd snatch him from my squad in a minute."
Marc grinned. “It'll be hard to hide what he can do once we close that breach."
"Maybe,” Daniel said, standing and turning to the shelves behind him. It took him only seconds to turn back toward the desk and unfold a map over it. “I'll worry about that once we're there. But before that..."
He smoothed out the creases with a hand and leaned above the map. Marc's armchair creaked in protest when he pushed off the armrests and stood to see better what Daniel was looking at. The map was old and outdated, showing perfectly lined streets where they had seen only the previous night that piles of rubble created a dangerous maze.
"This,” Daniel said, his index finger following a large avenue on the western edge of the map that divided the town in halves roughly from west to east, “is where we met last night.” His finger stopped at an intersection not even a quarter into the city and tapped lightly. “All this—” He indicated the southern part of the city up to the intersection. “—we've explored. There's no breach there."
