by A. M. Hudson
I clicked my tongue, folding my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor baby’s jealous.”
His mouth split into a grin, laughter coming out in one breath. “Quiet, you, or I’ll pair with you for sparring and give you a right smack on the bottom.”
“Ha! Good luck. I’m faster than you.”
He laughed and took my hand. “Come on, how ‘bout I show you this training hall I’ve been talking about for the last two months.”
Mike walked beside me, and the soft rain fell around us, making the countryside smell sweet, like cut grass and sugar. My mouth watered. It was a little colder on the coast for a summer, though, than it was inland. I wrapped my arms around myself to hide from the breeze as we stepped out of the trees and into a grassy clearing.
“How’s training been going with Emily over the last few weeks?” Mike asked from a step or two ahead. “She told me you’ve become quite a little expert with a sword.”
I shrugged. “A bit.”
“I ‘spose the ballet classes help there—given that fencing’s really a balance and grace thing.”
“Probably. Or just that I’m super cool.”
He laughed. “Let’s see how you do with a gun then.”
“A gun? We have guns?”
“Not yet, but we will.”
“What for?”
“Venom-filled bullets. Vampires are fast, but even they can’t stop venom infecting them if they don’t catch the bullet.”
“Cool. When do we get the guns?”
“In about a month or so. I’m putting a team of marksmen together.”
“Awesome. Do I get firearms training?”
“Uh, no.”
“Why?”
“Because ninety-eight percent accuracy on Halo does not give you the same skill out here in the real world. And besides, your dad would kill me if I put a gun in your hand.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically. “You’re afraid of my dad? We have a blood-hungry psychopath after us, and you’re afraid of my dad?”
He smirked. “Ara, you know what it’s like to sit under the glare of his disappointment.”
I shook my head. “And you think I have daddy issues.”
He laughed. “Baby, you do have daddy issues.”
Hmpf! I folded my arms.
“Anyway, back to the issue at hand—stop distracting me,” he warned, with a smile. “How are you going with the speed thing? Emily said you’d pretty much taken a step backward—so to speak.”
“Yeah. I get dizzy.” I rubbed my head. “I tried to flip out of Emily’s reach the other day and ended up in the lake—saturated.”
Mike burst out laughing, covering his nose for a second. “She didn’t tell me that.”
Heat washed over my head, rising from the chest up. “I asked her not to.”
“I got the full story of your sparring with David, though. He talked you up a bit, I think.”
“No, he just went easy on me.”
He held back his amusement. “I know. Well, so we need to work on your combat methods with vampires, but, today you can spar with humans, so it should be a piece of cake.”
“You think I need a self-esteem boost, huh?”
“We can all use a little encouragement sometimes.”
“By fighting those weaker than us?”
“Weaker than you,” he said, and laughed. “But I wouldn’t be so sure you’ll win, baby. These guys might be human, but they’re Special Ops, most of them. They’re damn good at what they do.”
“Oh, joy,” I said. It felt good to be walking outside with Mike again, in the open air of the cool, shady day. It reminded me of bush walking back home in Oz. And Mike had a bounce to his step when walking on uneven ground, like he laid his foot down heavily, not calculating the surface at all. It was so human, so unlike David, who was so used to walking with the grace of a vampire he couldn’t even pretend to be as clumsy as a human anymore. Mike hadn’t lost that yet, and I really appreciated that about him right now.
“So, you know when we drove in on the driveway that leads to the manor?” Mike asked.
“After or before the big, scary gates?”
“After.”
“Yep.”
“Well, there’s a side road that takes you down to the training hall, and in the distance, about two minutes Lilithian-style run, is the barracks.”
“Where you spend all your time?” I grinned.
“Yup,” he beamed.
“I can’t believe the weather today,” I noted, looking at the murky sky. “It was so sunny yesterday—what’s with all this rain?”
“Hmp,” Mike laughed softly. “Probably to do with your mood.”
“My mood?”
“Yeah. Haven’t you ever noticed how, when you’re sad or upset or angry, actually, even happy—not that that happens often—the weather seems to change?”
“Uh, what, like I’m a mood-stone?”
He shrugged. “I know you’re moo-dy. But, I don’t know, I was thinking about it a few days ago—it’s just something I’ve noticed since I first came to America to stay with you. It’s not all the time, which is why I thought nothing of it ‘til now. But it seems to be happening more often.”
“Trust you to notice something so trivial,” I scoffed.
Mike laughed again, placing a supportive hand to my lower back as we splodged down a mildly slippery slope of grass. “When it comes to you, my pretty little princess, it’s my job to notice everything.”
“Fine. I’ll pay that—but the weather? That’s just weird.”
“Didn’t say it made sense.”
“Well, I hope you’re wrong.”
“Why? It’d be cool. If we want a sunny day, we’ll just bring David out to the manor.”
I smiled, and right at that moment, the sun shone down on a building in the distance, lighting up its red roof and white bricks.
Mike stopped walking, his brow lifting over a smug grin. “See?”
I cleared my throat. “Coincidence.”
He laughed softly and we started walking again. “So, that building under the spotlight of your joy—” he paused; I rolled my eyes. “Is the training hall.”
“It doesn’t look big enough to hold five hundred fighting soldiers.”
“It’s not for the entire Core. We train the Queen’s Guard there. The rest train at the barracks.”
“So, how many are in there right now?”
“The entire Guard. Fifty men of the highest skill and qualification. They stand watch around the manor to protect the queen and only the queen. The rest of the Core are having the morning off.”
“So, who are the four knights you always talk about—Blade and Falcon and that?”
“They’re your Private Guard. Personally appointed to be by your side at all times.”
“Whoa.” I stopped walking. “At all times?”
“Yup.”
“No way, Mike. I don’t need that kind of protection. I’m not the goddamn president.”
“No, exactly. You’re the queen—of a nation of killers, Ara. You need to be protected at all times.”
“No. I don’t. I need to live, Mike. I’m not having those guys follow me around everywhere I go. Especially not here at the manor. We’re heavily guarded enough as it is.”
“Mm-hm.” He kept walking.
“Mike? I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Mike!” I ran after him. “Damn it! You better not have them follow me.” But it was stupid to even say that. Of course he would, and once those men were turned into Lilithian knights, there’d be no knowing if they were following me.
“Nervous,” Mike said, turning to me.
“Don’t pretend you’re not in my bad books, Michael.”
He laughed, the warmth of his sexy grin making his whole face cuter. “I really don’t care, Amara-Rose. You will do as you’re told. Like it or not. So you can chuck a tantrum, go ahead, it won’t change things.”
“O
h, I don’t need to throw a tantrum.” I folded my arms. “I’ll find some other way to make your life hell.”
“Breathing pretty much covers that,” he joked, and I scoffed. We walked past the tall windows of the rectangle building then, but couldn’t see inside because the white glare of the sun reflected back the image of a short girl walking through a grassy field beside a bulky man.
He led me around to the front of the building, still smiling smugly, not saying anything. As we stood by the open entrance—about four doors wide—I took a breath to steady my heart.
“Baby?”
“What?” I shuffled my feet, my gaze on my shoes.
“Ara?” He took my hand; I looked up at his caramel eyes. “You know I was joking, right—about the annoying me by breathing thing?”
I let my shoulders relax a little, smiling. “Course I do, Mike.”
“What’s wrong then? Why have you got that pouting lip?” He ran the tip of his finger over it.
“I’m just nervous, I think. You know what I’m like in public.”
His hand tightened on mine. “Well, I’ll be here with you. And don’t think of them as strangers—think of them as family. We’re all very close. In fact—” he looked into the room behind him, then grinned, “—we have a bonfire night coming up. Maybe you should come. It’d be a good chance for you to get to know some of the men.”
“Yeah? Am I allowed to go to things like that, you know, Core gatherings?”
“Yeah, baby, of course you can. You’re still my best friend. I’d love to have you there.”
“Okay. Cool. I’ll come then.”
“Great.” He grinned and tugged me along to the openness of the doors, right where everyone would be able to see me. My heart told my lungs to take faster breaths, but they wouldn’t listen. “Wait here a sec.” He dropped my hand and walked forward; I waited in the shadows under the eaves. “Atteeention!” he said, standing straight and tall; a unified clap echoed off the bare walls as the men stomped one foot to the ground, dropping their arms to their sides.
My lips twitched with the urge to laugh at the seriousness on all of their faces.
“Men?” Mike called out. “We have trained hard. We have sweat blood—” he pointed to someone at the back of the room, “—and there have even been some tears. But what you have worked towards is finally here. I present to you, my friend and your future queen—Princess Amara.”
I stepped into the room and it grew bigger as the space from hip height up emptied, each man dropping to one knee, slapping a fist over his heart. And I became smaller, not really sure what to do. “Um, hi.” I waved clumsily, instantly wanting to slap myself.
“At ease, men,” Mike said loudly, then looked at me.
The room crowded again as they stood tall, eyes forward—on me.
With each step Mike took, pacing the floors, addressing the men about the day’s training activities, I tried to step behind him, staying out of sight. I caught the gaze of a few men, who gave a soft nod or a small smile of what I assumed was reassurance. I felt ridiculous, but watching them, the way they responded to Mike’s orders, the way they stood, the very manner of the room, I realised that this was real to them. I’d never really stopped to think about it, but the truth was, I was their future queen. To them it was something regal, something magnificent—to me, it was like someone stole my life and was telling me how to live it. But these guys were here, offering their lives in service of what they believed to be real—to protect something important to a lot of people. I suddenly didn’t feel so ridiculous. I started imagining each one with Lilithian power, wondering what special gift they might have—if any at all.
“Okay.” Mike clapped his hands together. “Break up into groups of six. I want three-on-three sparring.” The room came alive then with the sudden movement of fifty men, and the noise rose up between the mirrors on the walls, bouncing off the hard wood floors, filling the room with more energy than my headache could handle. I rubbed my temples until Mike pulled my hand away. “Come on. Time to meet your Private Guard.”
“Okay.” I half walked, half looked over my shoulder at all the men, dispersed to every corner of the room, lining up sparring mats and grabbing swords from holders on the walls. They all just looked so cool. Like my very own video game, but with real blood. “Are they allowed to cut each other like that?”
Mike looked behind him. “You only get cut if you’re fooling around. These guys are trained to attack and block. They get cut, it’s their own fault.”
My eyes widened in horror.
“Ara, relax. We don’t usually have too many casualties. They spar fair and aim not to cut—for now. That’ll change soon.”
“Oh, okay.”
“And these four, fine men here—” We stopped in a mirrored section at the end of the room, where four men waited in a line; their hands behind their backs, chins slightly lifted, feet set apart, “—are your Private Guard.”
“Hey,” I said, giving a friendly wave, this time not so awkward.
“Men,” Mike said. “I’ll introduce you by name. Step forward as I address you. Ryder.”
The first man marched up, stomping his foot down hard, then clapped his arms to his sides.
“Hi,” I said; he nodded once, looking away quickly.
“Quaid,” Mike said, and the next man came to stand in line with the first; he was shorter than Ryder, but bulkier across the shoulders, with short, shaggy hair and black skin.
I nodded at Quaid when our eyes met for a second before he looked away.
“This guy is Falcon,” Mike announced, and the man took a step toward us; he had a strong jaw, square, covered with a slight brush of sandy stubble, like a broader, more serious version of Mike. I didn’t even bother trying to greet him, because he looked like he’d sooner lecture me than say hello.
When the last man stepped forward and planted his hands behind his back, he smiled at me, winking as he did. He had a cheeky grin, the kind that always got me into trouble, while his shaved hair matched his black eyes perfectly.
“This is Blade.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder.
“Blade?” I said.
The four men turned their heads slightly to look at me.
“I’m sorry—it’s just a strange name,” I stammered.
“It’s a nickname,” Mike said, and all the men cast their eyes forward again.
“Oh, okay.” I looked directly at the last knight. “Why Blade?”
“I know how to handle one pretty well,” Blade said, his English accent knocking a breath of surprise from me.
“So, you’re from England?”
“Once.” He nodded.
“What did you do before you came here?”
“Black Ops.” He grinned, running a hand over his hair. “I was kind of their secret weapon.”
“Hm.” I nodded then turned to Mike. “Way to go, Chief—good team.” I looked back at Blade then. “So, they won’t miss you, will they? At your old job?”
Blade laughed. “Doubt it, Princess. I went a little rogue—had a contract out on me.”
“Contract?”
“Death warrant,” Mike said.
My eyes widened, but I smiled when Blade brushed it off with an ultra cool shrug.
“So, then, what do you mean by you went rogue?”
Mike took me by the arm and led me away from the men. “Not rogue in the way you think, baby. He’s a good guy—follows orders, but not when he deems them unethical.”
I grinned widely. “Exactly the kind of guy we need, then.”
“Right. I hoped you’d say that.” Mike looked back at the guys for a second, lowering his voice. “If I had to pick any one of these men to fight for you, it’d be him.”
“Is he that good?”
Mike laughed. “Good isn’t really the right word.”
“Well then—” I spun slowly in a circle, taking in the now shirtless, sweaty surrounds of my knights, “—guess we better start training.”
“You heard her, men.” Mike clapped his hands together loudly and my four knights broke apart, lifting their shirts off or wrapping their wrists in black tape. “Take your shoes off, baby, or you’ll trip over.” He motioned down to my flip-flops.
I kicked my feet out of them and felt shorter without the whole millimetre of height they added. “So, what exactly do you teach them here? Why are those guys all sitting down looking at that whiteboard?”
“They’re being briefed on an external training op, but, aside from fighting skills and fitness, we actually teach the history of our people, so the Core have a clear idea where we’ve come from and what we hope to achieve.” He went to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and we also teach human skills, too—like how a vampire can blend in with the humans, you know, how not to break a hand when shaking, how to make quick exits in awkward situations and the ins and outs of identity change. And there’re a few guys who don't speak English, so we have language classes, too.”
“Good idea,” I said with a smile. “So where are their uniforms?” I nodded toward one of the guys wearing black sweats and a black t-shirt.
“We don’t train in uniform usually, but even if I wanted them to dress formally today to meet their princess, it wouldn’t have been possible.”
“Why?”
“Emily.” He grinned.
“Emily?”
“Yes. I had the knights in uniform last month when she came to visit and she nearly died at the sight of them—said there is no way her best friend’s army is going to walk around in clothes they stripped off King Arthur’s corpse.”
I laughed out loud. “Oh, I love that girl. She’s so funny.”
“Yeah.” Mike chuckled. “So, she actually designed the new get-up. It’s been approved already and we’re shipping them out as we speak.”
“Shipping? From where?”
“Sweden. The Ninth Order should be getting them today, but ours will take another week or so.”
“Cool. Not a big rush anyway, right. I mean, what do they need uniforms for? It’s all a little silly, if you ask me.”
“No, it’s not.” Mike glared at me. “This is not some joke, Ara—a bunch of guys getting together to play dress-up. This is an army, and when you unite a group of people together for one greater purpose, order, uniformity and respect must be an adamant part of that collection. Wearing an outfit that represents who you are and what you work for is a matter of pride—not some ridiculous gesture by a guy who wants to play pretend.”