Knight of the Hunted

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  My eyes closed. Instantly, I felt someone push a cup of coffee in my face. I sat up quickly, startled, making Cameron start laughing. It was morning, and the sun beat into the red room. I’d fallen asleep without even noticing. I started adjusting my kimono robe and noticed Cameron had brought me a dress with shoes that matched it. He turned his back so I could change.

  “Thanks,” I said to Cameron when I was done. He turned and handed me my mug of coffee. We sipped in awkward silence, both unconsciously testing to hear if the screams had stopped. I counted two individual screams from the dormitory, the ones I’d heard last night screaming in rage. Those two would be trained by Olivier specifically. She handled the tougher turned. I might be just as unbreakable, but she put my strength to shame. I’d seen her win a fight against vampires decades older than her.

  Cameron took my mug and I followed him to the kitchen. He was muttering a mantra under his breath, “Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon.” I was still full of blood from the ceremony and wouldn’t need to feed from him for two days, but I still wanted regular food. The kitchen and small cafeteria was bustling with vampires and their companions. Cameron skirted around other people cooking at the many stoves and took two plates out of one of the ovens. All the tables in the cafeteria were taken, so after grabbing silverware and drinks, we went outside to eat in the garden.

  The outside tables were surrounded by plots of flowers and plenty of lawn in case someone wanted to have a picnic. Othello sat at one of the umbrella-shaded tables with Marie, a younger Born vampire, who was staring at me like I’d insulted her shoes. Being Othello’s mate meant power, and Marie wanted that power. She was welcome to it. Cameron and I put everything on a table far away from them and started eating. Cameron had made us Japanese lettuce pancakes with bacon and some kind of sauce on top.

  I noticed Cameron studying me. “Stop making a face,” he told me. “This is good food. Just because it’s not blood pudding, or whatever people ate in the middle ages-” I cut him off by flinging a piece of lettuce pancake at him. He almost looked like he was about to start a food fight, but then he started laughing really hard, making me laugh as well. I could feel the tension lift off me.

  We were both laughing hysterically when Othello and Marie approached us. Marie had a dainty lace parasol in her hand that was the same pink as her stylish suit. Not that she needed a parasol. Othello wore his typical Victorian getup.

  “I left you some daisies in your suite,” Othello informed me, giving me a look like he expected me to suddenly decide to make out with him because he’d brought me flowers when I wasn’t there to receive them. I made an “Oh?” face, and put pancake in my mouth so I wouldn’t say something rude. Unfortunately, as always, he pretended to not notice my lack of exuberance. “After breakfast, we will convene in the dormitory.” He turned and walked back towards the castle, rebuffing Marie’s attempt to take his arm.

  Cameron imitated Othello’s deep British accent. “’We will convene in the dormitory.’” He rolled his eyes.

  “You know, I used to have an accent. As did you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, like ‘you caught me.’ “What did your accent sound like? You were born in Hungary, right?”

  “Transylvania,” I corrected, since that was what it had been at the time. “As cliché as that sounds. Ugh.” I waved my hands around while saying in a funny voice, “Ooo, a vampire born in Transylvania!” Cameron laughed around a piece of bacon. “I was raised in England, actually. I only know I was born in Transylvania because Balthazar told me.”

  Olivier and Renard appeared out of nowhere. Olivier wore a black mermaid dress decorated with leather belts, and she was squinting at the sun like it was there just to torture her. She hated being outside. Renard’s broad shoulders dwarfed her small frame and blocked some of the sun.

  “We’re needed,” she said evenly. I couldn’t tell if she was dreading it or excited at the prospect of working again. I looked down and realized I’d finished the lettuce pancake and it had tasted good, shockingly. Cameron was smirking at me, since I was such a picky eater and had eaten something different for once. I flicked more lettuce at him and stood up to follow Olivier to the dormitory.

  Renard sat down with Cameron and they started talking about a TV show they’d both been watching, like they were the closest of friends. Though, I was sure they had something of a good relationship, considering how long Cameron had been here. It was weird to think about. Like, my little brother was friends with my friends. I didn’t have siblings. Well, not that I would know.

  Olivier was quiet on our trek, breaking the silence only to comment on someone’s fashion choices, and to tell me I had bacon breath. I almost asked her what was wrong, but then I remembered. In a few weeks, new companions would be brought here for the turned and Born to choose from, and that meant the end of all companion contracts. Olivier was probably scared that Renard wouldn’t renew his tenure for a fourth time. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He was in his mid-40s now. His face was beginning to show thin smile lines, and his buzzed hair was thinning out. Would he really want to spend more years of his life with a woman that he could never be with?

  Cameron was leaving.

  The thought sobered me, and any buzz from the nice morning was gone. We both entered the dark haunting basement looking like someone had just slapped us. Well. I did, at least. Olivier looked like she was going to punch the next person who was cheerful to her. The atmosphere in front of us was somber, so everyone’s face was safe for now. Othello had put on a long black robe, trying to look official as the head of our Order, and he held two large golden keys in his hand. Those keys would unlock every coffin in the room.

  Two voices still came from the coffins, screaming faintly, waiting for us to let them out. When they found out we weren’t going to, they’d start up again after we all left. Logically, we would be doing this ceremony after dark, when the turned couldn’t be reduced to a lovely pile of ashes if the sun touched them for too long, but Othello worked on his own schedule. He refused to bend it for the turned.

  Olivier and I approached the small group of Born vampires, nodding to the ones we worked with sometimes. Othello silently handed me one of the keys, and he and I walked to the end of the room and began unlocking each coffin, except for the two that were still noisy. It took us a few minutes to reach the other end of the chamber. When we finished, we walked back to the center, where the tall iron candelabras stood.

  “Arise,” Othello said loudly, his voice echoing. “You are now one of the turned. You have been reborn as a creature of the night.” As he spoke, the coffin lids opened one by one and the turned sat up. Their eyes were dark with shadows and each one had a sense of calm they didn’t have before now. By smell, I could tell which of them had been turned by me. One of mine was still locked in. I used to want a connection with my turned, but I had learned throughout my long years that the turned didn’t care about their sires. That was why Olivier and I trained them, in lieu of their sires as we did in the old days. By old days, I mean when I was a fledgling and our Order was in England.

  The turned started to step out of the coffins and join us in the center of the room. There were so many, at least fifty, counting the two extras. Every year we turned more and more. There was in-depth math involved in the number of humans allowed to be turned, but that wasn’t my department. The turned were all dirty with old blood, the result of scratching and beating against wood for countless hours.

  Olivier led them to the basement shower room, which was there specifically for the turned to use, while I got to order around some maids. They’d been waiting in the underground garage, a cluster of human housecleaners that did their work and asked no questions. Normally they just cleaned the castle once a week, however, once a year we needed them to change the bedding in the coffins. The turned had done real damage to their interiors, but we’d lined them with old bedding on purpose. Almost every coffin was stripped, given a quick rubdown, and lined with new red silk
bedding.

  Yes, the turned still slept in the coffins during their training. Only now they wouldn’t be locked from the outside. After the maids were done, I led the Born vampires back upstairs to the smaller drawing room, on the turned side of the house. The room was dimly lit, and red. Red carpet, red curtains, red walls. Red, red, red. Olivier and the turned that had been released were waiting for us, now all cleaned up and dressed in robes. Later today, their measurements would be taken and they would be able to order new clothes for themselves in the computer room after their lesson for today was finished.

  Othello silenced everyone by clapping his hands. “Now begins your training. You will spend the next five months learning from your instructors, Lisbeth and Olivier.” He gestured to us, and I waved with a smile. Olivier ignored everyone. Othello said a few more things, then he gestured for the Born vampires to leave, and he followed them out.

  Their part was done. Now Olivier and I were in charge.

  We spent most of the morning answering questions the turned had, then our lunch was brought to us so we could supervise the turned having their new bodies measured.

  Olivier bit into a stuffed tomato, her eyes surveying the turned carefully like one might choose to bolt suddenly. I didn’t see the point. We were more babysitters than crowd control.

  One of the turned started complaining when it was his turn to be measured, not seeing the point in knowing his size since he didn’t care what he wore. Olivier scoffed to herself. “Obviously, we didn’t screen well enough,” she said quietly. I rolled my eyes. She was such a fashion diva.

  My phone went off, so I stuffed a piece of fish in my mouth and lifted it out of my pocket. It was a text from Cameron.

  Renard wants me to lift weights with him. I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!!

  I giggled and started texting back something witty, since Cameron never worked out and still had a perfect body. Not that I was looking.

  Lift weights, and then make him play video games with you. :-D

  He responded back with, Nice try. I’m not working out if the gym is lacking ladies. I laughed and put my phone back in my pocket.

  After the measurements were over, Olivier and I could begin.

  “Your first lesson,” I said after everyone had sat down or perched on something, “is your fangs.” They all looked disappointed, like they’d been expecting something like combat fighting, so I tried to elaborate. “You must know how to control your fangs when you are around a human. Now, I know you have learned control of your thirst-”

  One of the turned interrupted me. “Seriously? We have to sit here and talk about fangs? When do we learn to break stuff?”

  Olivier answered, since that was part of her lessons. “You’ll learn that later. It’s important right now to learn Vampire etiquette.”

  “And you only learn to…break things…because it’s important to know the boundaries of your strength. Not so you can fight or kill someone,” I added quickly.

  “That is so boring!” a girl turned with perfect blonde hair said. She had refused to be measured since she insisted she had always been this skinny. “You mentioned you were a vampire Hunter before,” she said to Olivier. “I want to be one.”

  Olivier’s eyebrows knit together. “The turned don’t become Hunters.”

  This outraged several of the turned. “That’s so unfair!”

  “Why can’t we? Is it some super selective club?”

  “That’s racist!”

  Olivier let out a high-pitched noise that shook the room and made our ears ping. “All of you shut up!” She straightened and huffed, like she was about to send them to detention. “You will all go down to the dormitory. Lessons are over.” No one protested.

  I walked over to her when the room was empty and wiggled a finger in my ear. “Oww.” She smiled as an apology. “I really hate it when you do that.”

  “It gets them to shut up. Worth it,” was her response.

  My ears disagreed, but I smiled back anyway.

  Our companions were in my suite waiting, sitting on one of the divans. Cameron was playing a video game on the big screen TV and Renard was watching him while casually lifting a twenty-pound weight with one arm. They both waved to us, too absorbed to get up. Olivier plopped down on the floor next to Renard and started complaining to him in French about how our day had gone.

  Watching Cameron made me sad again, so I quickly grabbed my purse and zipped down to the underground garage for my car. I wanted to talk to Balthazar about something, anything. I couldn’t be upset about losing my companion.

  I stopped at several bookstores, a few antique places, but Balthazar didn’t show up. I’d wandered onto the outskirts of town, and was starting to feel weary since I couldn’t find him, when I bumped into someone at the end of a street. I started to apologize when I noticed it was a child, about ten years old.

  The hairs on my neck stood up.

  The child stunk of Lycan.

  Chapter 4

  I looked down at the child in front of me. I’d knocked both of us over so I was leaning over him. I sat up and he watched me warily. No doubt, he could smell me as well and knew what I was. His enemy.

  “Simon!” someone shouted. I looked up and on the other side of the street crossing were two burly men and a smaller woman that looked just as tough. I could tell by sight that the taller male was an Alpha. The smell from them made my lips curl and I had to fight to keep my fangs from dropping.

  Why weren’t the wolves coming closer? They had an Alpha plus two. I knew I wouldn’t stand much of a chance against them. They could easily run over here, grab me and the child, and rip me to pieces in a dark alley. I looked down at the child and back at the Lycans, and then it hit me.

  The borders.

  The edge of my Order’s border was this street crossing. The border we owned spread the same distance in every direction and it was marked with the scent of vampire blood. The Lycans couldn’t cross to save their pup or their lives would be forfeit to me. It was the law.

  I looked back down at the boy. His scent was human, I realized. The Lycan scent I’d smelled was residual, from other people. His parents. The boy had black hair and tanned skin, a typical werewolf look. The boy’s features were in-between boy and preteen. He still had the chubby cherub cheeks and full lips of a child, but his eyes were deep and aged. He knew running from me wouldn’t do any good. He was waiting for me to take him away and do my duty.

  And I couldn’t do it.

  “Simon,” I said to him over the very few humans around us, hoping that that was his name. “I am over four hundred years old. And in all that time, I have never killed a child. I’m not saying I’ve never killed before, because I have.” I stole a glance at the Lycans and saw that they were listening. “I have drained the blood of innocents and thought nothing of it. But my hands have never harmed a child.” I stood up and held my hand out to him. He took it and let me lead him to the edge of the border, in the middle of the street. There were no cars around, so the Lycans met us in the center.

  The Alpha regarded me with cautious eyes. “Why are you letting the boy go? He crossed. He is surrendered to you now. His blood is yours to spill.” The woman made a choking growl noise and her mate put his arm around her.

  I met his gaze, suddenly feeling brave while sizing up an Alpha so big he made me look like a toothpick. “You heard what I said. I will not spill a child’s blood. Not even a Lycan.” I tried not to say Lycan like it was a dirty word. Simon’s hand was still in mine, so I released it and gave him a push to his parents. They grabbed him fiercely, giving me a look like they’d fight me if I changed my mind.

  “Your kind will find out,” the Alpha warned me.

  “I don’t smell anyone nearby,” I told him. “And if you left, it would be even better for both of us. So. Scoot.” I gestured with my hand in the opposite direction of where we were standing.

  Instead of just leaving like Simon and his parents were doing, the Lycan Alpha handed
me a bracelet he’d just removed from his wrist. It was easily almost three times the width of my own delicate wrists. “We owe you a debt. Keep this, and it will protect you from any Lycan that tries to harm you.”

  I turned the bracelet over in my hands. It was very intricate with braided threads and beads, and… “Is that vampire teeth??” I tried not to be too horrified, since he was trying to thank me.

  He smiled ruefully. “They are a symbol of strength and status.”

  “That’s not very flattering,” I said blankly. I almost gave it back, but he chuckled at me, and was gone. The bracelet stunk of Lycan so I found a public restroom and washed it off until it smelled like vanilla soap before stuffing it in my pocket.

  I went home and pretended nothing had happened. As far as I could tell, I was in the clear. No one knew I’d broken our second highest law. The first was about killing another vampire. As in, it’s forbidden. I hid the bracelet in my room. I wasn’t about to wear something with vampire teeth on it as decoration.

  Olivier unlocked the two extra turned the next morning. They were large men with ripples of muscles. And strong. Stronger than I was. It was a shame they were part of the turned. They would’ve been invaluable if they were Born. We took the opportunity to introduce the strength lesson early.

  After dark, we led the turned out to a small clearing beyond the castle grounds. It was lit with gas lamps that looked like the color of firefly light. One lamp flickered, so Olivier walked up and kicked it. It flickered again and came back on stronger than before, like it was afraid Olivier would kick it again. She hopped onto a fallen log and I walked up to stand beside her as she got the group’s attention.

  “Today we’re learning about the limitations of our strength. It’s important to know the exact limits of strength in order to keep it under control. You can’t be in control if you’re afraid of breaking someone or something all the time. So. Go pick a tree, and have fun.” She gestured to the forest behind us. “Don’t worry. We sell any trees you knock down and plant new ones later. You two,” she added, pointing her finger at the two bigger turned. “With me.” They followed her, and the one I knew by smell was my turn glanced over at me and waved with his pointer finger. I didn’t remember him being that big when I turned him. The turning corrected everything, including stunted growth, so he’d just been a shorty by accident.