by S. L. Eaves
No mirror. Thank fucking God.
I shower, change, and feed off some microwave-nuked blood. Seems like a good time to explore the castle.
I wander down a staircase that looks familiar but turns out to lead into a library with towering, floor-to-ceiling bookcases. I poke around the volumes, discovering quickly that very few are in English. I flip through various pages, attempting to decipher some of the print.
Suddenly aware of eyes burning through my back, I spin around. The figure smiles and steps out of the doorway.
“You must be Lori.”
He walks with a long, smooth stride; his eyes emit a piercing glow, something fierce stirring behind them. He has a majestic demeanor and wears dress appropriate for the 1800s. This is what I’d been anticipating.
“Yes, and you must be Marcus?”
He smiles, picking the book out of my hands.
“Is it that obvious?”
He closes the book, fingering the faded gold calligraphy.
“Do you know Latin?”
“No, I was just admiring the collection—got kind of lost roaming the castle. I hope you don’t mind.”
He hands me the book. “Not at all. I’m very proud of this collection. Very few are my own, but I worked to bring in volumes from around the globe. Some are first editions, others don’t hold much value, but each one tells a story, cemented in paper, priceless, timeless.”
I nod, returning the book to its place on the shelf.
Marcus stands roughly six feet, medium build, with olive skin, impactful eyes, and thin, black hair pulled into a pony tail. I guess an Asian ethnicity. However, his perfect English and somewhat Americanized accent offer no indication of his origin.
“I’m sorry I was unable to greet you upon arrival. I trust you had a smooth flight?”
“Yeah, very. My first time on a private jet. It was quite luxurious.”
My memory flashes to the horrific events just before departure.
Marcus regards my expression with concern. I erase the pain with a smile.
“I’m still comprehending everything that’s happened the past few weeks, so forgive me if I seem a little flustered.”
“You will have time to adjust.” He strokes his goatee. “I trust Catch has brought you up to speed on the war.”
“He has.”
“Then you at least understand why you’ve been brought here. That you now have a greater purpose.”
“I’m still a little vague on the ‘why’ and as for a greater purpose, I suppose that remains to be seen…”
“You met Adrian?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did he say to you?”
“He spoke of rainbows and pink unicorns.” Marcus is not amused. I shrug. “He didn’t tell me anything you don’t already know.”
After an uncomfortable silence, I figure a bad first impression is not the best way to go and try again.
“He told me, in vague metaphoric prose, that Catch and I would change the outcome of the war. He didn’t elaborate on how. He mostly told me to embrace this new life and that the sooner I abandoned everything and everyone I knew, the better. So I did and now I’m here.”
“He spoke of a prophecy?”
I shake my head, but I can’t say for sure one way or the other. “I think you’ve been reading too many of these stories.” I run my finger across a row of books.
“There is much that can be learned from these volumes. It’s all a matter of how you interpret their message.”
“Any of these written about you?”
His scrutinizing eyes soften and a smile emerges.
“Maybe after I’m gone, my tale will be told.”
“And if I were to pen your biography, would it be a cautionary tale or one of inspiration and triumph?”
Marcus ponders, “It remains to be seen. One would hope the latter.”
“One would hope,” I muse.
He swings his arm around me, proclaiming jovially, “I like you.”
He leads me around the castle, describing the origin of every piece of artwork we pass. I don’t have to feign my interest; his every move fascinates me. His voice, the smell of his cologne, his dapper attire. It isn’t hard to see why Catch idolizes him.
At sunset I find my way down to the training room. There turns out to be several, so I wander until encountering Xan.
“How did you sleep?”
“Dead to the world.”
He is sorting through some equipment. I flash back to my old grade school gymnasium, except this is a much more lethal version where swords and daggers replace bats and tennis rackets.
“So what kind of training are we doing exactly?”
“We will be starting with basic combat techniques, then move on the weapon training. Do you have any martial arts training?”
“Umm…does piloxing count?”
“Right, so there’s a variety of stylistics: Muay Thai, Jiu-Jitsu, Hapkido, Taekwondo—”
“And I’m going to learn them all? Doesn’t that make it a good decade before I’m out in the field?”
Xam laughs. “For a human, maybe. You have to start thinking like a vampire, Lor.”
“Fair enough. You find we actually use this stuff against the wolves?”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt. You see, you’re not nearly as invincible as fresh, blood-infused veins make you feel. Here we teach novices like you how to apply your power to, well, let’s say maximize destruction. You may be able to throw a punch and land on your feet, but when you’re pinned down by a wolf, a few defense tactics can’t hurt.”
***
Ever since I awoke in the hotel room, there had been a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wasn’t really awake. That I had died and my mind had kept going (which in many ways holds true), transporting me into this world. That this journey was all in my head and my body was worm food.
Then I get smacked in the back with a wooden staff, pain radiating through my body, and I realize this is no illusion.
Once we get started, I quickly realize he isn’t messing around. We spend hours punching, kicking, jumping, and grappling. His blows often floor me and likely would send a human to the nearest hospital or morgue. During these exhaustive drills, I come at him with everything I have, trying to impress him and no doubt looking very foolish in the process. Finally, when dawn is nearing, he decides we are finished with today’s session.
“Okay, that’s good for now. I’ve got to meet with Dade and Catch in a few. Great work tonight.”
I stretch a little, then hang around the room and play with some of my new toys.
Xan goes upstairs and, as expected, finds Crina in the observation room.
“I figured if you weren’t out hunting you’d be in here sizing up the fresh meat.”
“Tomorrow night, I’m hoping. I’m awaiting confirmation on my target’s location.”
“I see. So what’s your impression of Lori? You want to take over training?”
“No.” Crina gives a coy little smile. “You’re doing fine. I’m not sure about her yet, but she’s got potential—I’ll give her that.”
“High praise coming from you. She was an athletic human, that’ll translate well. Quick learner. Throws a fast punch,” Xan advocates.
“Good. I’ll be anxious to see how she does in the field.”
“Why do you think Adrian chose her?”
Crina shrugged.
“Adrian doesn’t have to justify his decisions to the rest of us.”
“True.”
“Real question is, why has he suddenly taken interest in the war?”
Crina makes for the door. Xan’s focus lingers on the two-way mirror and the gym below.
“Her eyes. They have a ferocity in them—reminds me of someone.”
Crina hesitates but doesn’t turn as she exits. Xan grins, looking down on Lori who is fixing the tape on her wrist.
Chapter 13
Much of my time is occupied with
Xan and Dade in the training room. Dade has the build of a linebacker and the brains of a cockatiel. In his past life he’d worked in a lumber yard somewhere outside Berlin and had a night job working as a bouncer for a club in the city. At thirty he was in his prime and quickly became a target for the growing wolf pack in that region.
A recently converted Catch was out on assignment with Marcus when they realized who the wolves were after. Marcus got to Dade first.
Dade takes well to the life. His efforts alone have put a huge dent in the wolf population. He is rarely at the castle. I like his simple, frank persona and find his sense of humor refreshing. His biceps are bigger than my head, his angular features are squared off at the shoulders, and he sports a buzz cut topped with a short Mohawk.
Dade doesn’t lift a finger without say-so from Marcus. I often wonder how he dresses himself in the morning. Though he does wear the same camos every day. And he takes everything literally, so you have to be very careful when sending him on an assignment.
“Whoa. Sorry about that.”
Today, Dade is “teaching me” how to fence. I look at the Epee sticking out of my upper arm. The needle-like fencing sword is tiny, but effective.
“Hey watch it. My arm is not a shish kabob.”
He steps back, gingerly sliding it from my arm.
“I’m clumsy with swords. Xan says I need to practice more, but I don’t understand why. Ain’t nothing these things can do that my hands can’t.”
“That I believe. How many wolves have you taken out?”
We dance around. His idea of fencing is mostly charging at me in the same way he probably handles a battering ram. So I am constantly playing defense, ducking and dodging his blows. It’s not as if we wear protection. I suppose it is as effective a training method as any.
“Like this week?” He laughs. I can’t tell if he is laughing at his own joke or the absurdity of the question. “It’s not like I keep a tally. Hundreds, hopefully. Over the years.”
“You ever find it hard? To take them out?”
“Physically, sometimes. Morally, no. It’s not as if we do it when they are sitting down to dinner with their families. Those types, the more domesticated they are, the harder they are to find. Luckily, most tend to be pretty feral. You get the sense you’re doing the world a favor when you do it.”
I landed a blow to his thigh. First time all night. He nodded in recognition.
“They’re strong, Lori. You have to get ’em when their guard is down. You engage when they least expect it, when they’re still in human form, before they have time to go all beasty on you, you’re golden. They spot you and you’re not prepared, you’re toast. You get made and you’re alone. You get the hell out. One against one, a wolf will rip you to shreds. That’s why we carry weapons, why we often go out in pairs or groups, and why we spend our down time in here. I’m not trying to scare you, but a little fear is healthy, you know what I’m sayin’?
“Loud and clear.”
He puts his sword down.
“I can’t do this no more; it’s boring as hell. They take you to the shooting range yet?”
I shake my head.
“That settles it then.”
***
Catch joins Crina in the observation room.
“Xan said you were looking for me?”
“Lori’s progressing nicely. Has she spent much time in the field with you?”
“We covered some basics, sure.”
“Has she killed a wolf?”
“No.”
“Has she seen a wolf?”
Catch hesitates. “No.”
“Christ, Catch, what are you waiting for?”
“It’s too soon…she’s not ready.”
“She’s not ready or you’re not ready?”
Catch stares through the glass, avoids making eye contact.
“You’ve gotten too close. You’re protecting her.”
“I’m not protecting her!” Catch protests.
“You love her?”
“I—I won’t deny growing fond of her.”
“I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to keep your distance. But Dominique and I were different. No blood ties. No war. You’ve got a responsibility to her and to us.”
Dade and I find Xan at the range.
“Check it out.” Xan is pleased to have an audience.
Xan is holding a black handgun with lots of attachments. I can tell by his tone that he expects us to be impressed. I am not sure what I’m staring at.
“MP5 SD submachine gun. Precise, silent, and cuts through a werewolf like butter.”
“Does it shoot silver bullets?”
It is a serious question. They burst out laughing.
“Not in here it doesn’t, but it damn well better in the field. You know how hard it is to work with silver? Ugh. We use hollow points with large cavities and fill them with silver. It’s effective on wolves, but you take a shot you better make it count. We don’t exactly keep extras lying around.”
“No missing with that thing.” Dade holds it up, examining the sight.
“EOTech holographic sight adapter on rail system. Hit the lights and give it a try.”
While Dade tests Xan’s latest toy, Xan explains what Dade is shooting at. They have a whole system of targets that pop out at varying distances. They speed up; they slow down. Some are even heated to test the thermal attachments.
The simulation finishes and a digital screen displays Dade’s results.
“It’s based on speed and accuracy. You always want head shots. You shoot faster, but less accurately, the system will tell you to slow down. For the best results, you want the perfect balance of both. Dade is shooting at 94%. Pretty impressive.”
Dade hits the lights and joins us.
“Our ballistics expert scores again. Can I be the one to test it on the field?”
“Sure, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”
Dade looks at his results.
“94, huh. Tell Catch to watch his back. I’m going to outscore him any day now.”
Dade left and Xan hands me a different gun, one lacking the bells and whistles of the other.
“Here. We’re going to start with the basics.”
Chapter 14
I’ve been wrestling with my feelings for Catch and he’s picked up on my avoidance. To his credit, he tries to give me space, but it is hard to do under the same roof. We often engage in awkward small talk until we can’t stand it and find an excuse to run off. Things have changed since it was just the two of us. Now he is playing a part of a soldier and our dynamic has shifted noticeably. The honeymoon is over.
Tonight, much to my relief, he is sent on an assignment that will keep him on the road for a few days.
As the sun sets I take to the grounds. There are miles of paths stretching around the woods. Aside from the occasional bird cry, the woods are eerily silent. I opt to break the silence with Jiro’s iPod.
Jogging along, absorbed in the music, I am startled by a sudden presence at my side. It is Crina.
“Hey there.” She is wearing a black track suit and silver sneakers. I slow my pace and remove the headset. “You’re learning your way around okay? You know the jogging thing is kind of unnecessary, right?” she inquires.
“Yeah, old habits die hard. And mostly just exploring the paths around the estate. How many acres are we on?”
“50. 100. I’d be guessing. Takes a lot of security to keep it under watch.”
“Are there cameras all around here?” I look around.
“Surveillance is pretty thorough. Heaviest by the gates and doorways. Motion detectors line the entire perimeter.”
I nod.
“So watch where you venture.” She smiles. “Hey, how would you like to go out and see the city?”
“I’d love to.” Excitedly, I say, “This place is great and all, but I could use a change of scenery.”
“I’ve got an assignment in Bristol. I’m headed out in a couple hours t
o take care of him. Why don’t you join me?”
“An assignment? Am I even authorized yet?”
“You are if I say you are. It’s okay. Besides, you’ll just be observing. No field work,” Crina assures me.
I shrug. “Count me in then.”
“Good. Meet me outside the stables at twenty-one hundred hours.”
“The stables?”
“Building on the northeast side of the property. We’ve converted it into a garage.” Crina points at the NYU letters embroidered on my hoodie. “And don’t wear that. We’ll just have to go shopping while we’re out.” She takes off for the mansion.
I stand wondering what just transpired.
Is she testing me? Probably. Warm and friendly isn’t her forte. What’s with this change of heart? Has to be a test.
Only one way to know for certain.
***
I arrive at the stables at 2100 hours exactly. I’m dressed in black head to toe, complete with a pair of cargo pants that seem to be all the rave around here. A switchblade, a gift from Catch, is my lone accessory. I envision it discreetly hidden in my knee-high, black leather boots. If we really are going shopping, those rank high on my priority list. I feel I should be more prepared, but there is nothing else I possess that I imagine will be of any use.
As I approach, one of the stable doors swings open and a little cherry coupe with tinted windows pulls out. Crina is in the driver’s seat. I slide in shotgun and we speed off.
“Nice wheels,” I compliment.
“Do you have a comm?” She indicates the piece in her ear.
“No. Should I?”
“I’ll have Jiro give you one.”
Jiro and I had been bonding some in the operations room lately. He was a rogue who reached out to Marcus after the firestorm. His knowledge of computers, technology, and engineering has proved a huge asset. Brilliant didn’t cover it.
He is paralyzed from the waist down; he’d been involved in a blast while fighting in World War II and lost use of his legs. He paid a vampire to turn him as an experiment. He hoped the regenerative powers of the demon blood would repair his shattered spine.
Sadly, no such luck. Any physical disability incurred prior to death, to turning, was not mystically healed. A debilitating disease on the other hand would be rendered dormant by the body’s death. Or flushed out with the transformation. Jiro has a pair of bionic legs he can use to walk around, but they have to be operated by hand controls. They are slow and clumsy and I rarely see him in them.
