At one such dinner, Elsbeth broached the subject of Elora’s relationship with B Team, which, apparently, was an item of constant gossip within the general population of Jefferson Unit. Elsbeth regaled her with stories of the exploits of the widely celebrated Bad Company saying their prowess was unequalled and what a tragedy it had been when Sir Rathbone Landsdown had died in the line of duty.
She described Storm as team leader, even though Black Swan does not officially recognize leadership in the field, and described Ram and Kay as opposites who balance each other out. Kay was the anchor, the walking embodiment of reason and calm under fire while Ram was thought to be a short fuse hothead.
Elsbeth went on to say that Ram was also the quintessential ladies’ man; that the standing joke was that his nickname, Ram, was appropriate since he was a notorious womanizer and that women are drawn to him like a magnet for reasons that transcend his beauty. She knew that to be true because a lot of the knights were gifted with looks and allure that dripped charisma without inspiring riots.
“Riots?”
“Well, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much. He’s the sex version of fast food drive-through. It looks so good. It smells so good. It tastes so good. And you can get it quick. But, afterward you feel yucky and are sorry you did it.”
Elora had never had fast food or been through a drive through, but Ram’s movies were full of drive through situations so she grasped the idea.
While Elora let that sink in, Elsbeth shifted the conversation to Elora’s training project. Elora couldn’t be sure, but she thought that Elsbeth had gone into detail about Ram’s reputation as a sex dripping satyr for her benefit, as a kindness. The question of Ram’s appeal was indisputable and Elora was as susceptible as anyone else, but no one is irresistible. She made a pact with herself that she would not end up a number on a pile of used and discarded lovers. He could just keep his sexy elf trouble to himself.
As they were leaving dinner Elora couldn’t hold the question that was eating away at her any longer. They stopped in the middle of the hub before going their separate ways. “Look, I know this question might be off limits, so you don’t have to answer, but, if you don’t mind me asking, have you had experience with Ram, uh, personally?”
When Elsbeth’s smile reached her eyes they sparked a little. “No admonitions about ‘kiss and tell’ in your world? No matter. The answer is no.” She leaned in conspiratorily and lowered his voice. “Not because of purity. There’s a reason why I know that drive-through sex feels bad afterward.” She looked around to be sure she wasn’t overheard. “I guess I’m not his type. Oh, well.” She sighed dramatically.
Elora didn’t want to feel relieved about that because she didn’t want to have to examine the implications too closely.
Occasionally she was invited to dine with Monq in his quarters in lieu of a session. One such night the conversation turned to the little manual Monq had given her. “I’m curious about one thing regarding vampire and that’s why this phenomenon would still be classified as paranormal. A hundred years ago that would have made sense, but now that it’s been explained scientifically…”
“Yes. A good point.” He offered to refresh her brandy. “The thing is that science and the paranormal, whether you call it that or magic or mystic or mystery, have been on a trajectory course for centuries and perhaps the intersection isn’t too far into the future. I’m certain that someday all mysteries will have scientific explanations.
For instance, until very recently, we had no way of proving that there are multiple dimensions existing simultaneously in layers, tethered to our Earth. Much less inter-dimensional travel.
One day a lovely young lady goes splat on the floor at our feet and voila! What was theory just a moment ago is now a fact.”
After dinner things usually got very quiet in Jefferson Unit. Knights went out on patrol. Trainees were busy with homework and non-resident personnel went home. Elora frequently visited the infirmary after dinner and Ram went along because, as he said, he had nothing better to do.
The young man who had been admitted at the end of Elora’s convalescence was slowly healing and expected to make a full recovery. He was still bedridden and eager for company. No one understood that better than she.
The first night she visited, she tried to establish what would serve him best. He said he didn’t have the energy to carry on much of a conversation, much less play games, but would love it if she would just talk to him. She asked if he would like to hear stories from her world, typically told to children, but loved by everyone. He said that sounded perfect.
So she began by saying the collection of stories were called fairy tales. Ram shot her a mock dirty look. “Excuse me, I meant to say elf tales. I almost don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with the one you like best,” Ram suggested.
“Good idea.” From memory she told Snow White trying not to leave out the important details. After that she began writing out the stories so that she wouldn’t forget anything critical in the telling.
Every night, when they left the young knight’s room, Ram would look smugly amused and say, “That was a stupid story.” But the next night he would be back again pretending to be bored.
One of the highlights of the week was Monday morning brunch and karaoke. With hundreds of years to iron out a system, The Order had determined that people in high pressure jobs – and vampire hunting qualifies - need to balance that with big doses of frivolity. The knights were not the least shy about their vocals or lack thereof. They sang even if they were tone deaf. One of the big hits was always a group of nurses who sang girl group songs. Neither Storm nor Kay could carry a tune and their performances were stiff, but, curiously enough, there is an entertainment factor just on the other side of awful.
The other regular star was Ram who was a mockingbird. He could do anything he wanted with his voice. He could sound like an angel or like somebody who had smoked several decades too long.
One thing that is not tolerated at Monday morning Karaoke brunch is spectators. You either participate or they show you the door. After weeks as an onlooker, the day came when someone started a chant to get Elora to the microphone. Like everyone in her clan, she’d been singing all her life, but since she had no experience singing solo in front of others she was paralyzed with stage fright.
Seeing her blanch, Ram leaned over and whispered in her ear that it’s not a test of singing, but sportsmanship. That seemed to be enough encouragement to get her out of her chair to the front of the room. She picked a song she knew from the list and proceeded to stop the show with her passionate, husky alto.
Amid whistles and shouts of approval, Kay leaned over to Ram and said, “She sings like an elf.”
Ram, whose dreamy eyed gaze was still locked on Elora said, “Aye. She does at that.”
The day came when it was time to go to the next level of Blackie’s training. He always seemed to be expecting Elora’s arrival because, when she came into view, he would be standing, looking through the chain link with bright eyes, big ears standing up at attention. Today he allowed himself to emote one wag of the tail. They always began with a chicken treat tossed into the cage, but today they were going to a new level. She was going to offer the treat from her hand.
She approached the cage, closer than she had ever been before, speaking quietly, holding out the treat. He watched her intently, wanting so badly to keep his gaze focused on her face, but not being able to resist looking down at the treat.
He allowed her to stand just on the other side of the fencing. He was tense, deathly still, his body language was broadcasting unpredictability, but she believed he was worth the gamble. She put her fingers, holding the chicken treat, through the chain link, knowing he could easily snap them off if he chose. After a few tense seconds he sniffed her hand, sniffed the treat, then ever so gently withdrew it from her fingers.
She wanted to leap in the air with a victory whoop, but forced herself
to remain still and quiet so as not to startle him at this critical moment. “Good boy,” she whispered. Then he surprised her with the unexpected. He looked from her face to her pocket to see if she might withdraw another treat. She chuckled. He kept his attention on the pocket and wagged his tail twice. She decided that was indeed worth another treat.
After three days thus, Elora decided it was time to get inside the cage. The key to the large padlock was kept on a lanyard hanging from a wall hook a few feet away. Blackie watched her curiously as she removed the lock. She threw a chicken treat into the back corner to get him to move away so that she could open the gate and enter without freeing him.
When he turned around, she was inside and talking to him in the same even, low tones she used to read to him every day. To further minimize any threat he might be feeling, she sat down cross legged, her back against the chain link. He sat down on his haunches. The dog was so big that put them at eye level. Blackie regarded her with interest, clearly trying to work out the situation.
She slowly pulled out the Training Manual and began to read. After a minute or so his mouth opened and tongue came out which meant he had relaxed. She could tell by his expression that he was okay with the new arrangement and that she wasn’t in any danger. After another minute he approached, lowered himself to the ground and put his head on her knee.
It was such a simple gesture, but so touching it made her heart turn over. “Good boy,” she said quietly. The next day he leapt for the chicken treat in the corner, gulped it down, and turned wagging his tail like he was expecting her to sit down. He immediately came over, cuddled up beside her and put his head on her knee. Slowly she brought her hand over to his nose. He raised his head, sniffed her hand and offered a tentative lick.
She gambled the time was right to touch so she let her fingers drift up the fur of his cheek. He stilled, looking a little wary, but allowed it. She stroked quietly and slowly behind his ears until he leaned his head into the petting and said quietly, "Yes, you gorgeous beast. We have an understanding."
She moved her hand down his head, over his neck and shoulders. Nothing could have astonished her more than what happened next. He threw himself into a roll onto his back asking to have his tummy rubbed.
Without thinking she laughed out loud. He raised his head to peer at her curiously, but made no threatening move. “Good boy,” she said out loud and gave him a nice, brisk rub on his tummy.
Unlike the black on his head and back, the coloring on his sides was a mix of tan and silver, and the down on his stomach was almost pure white.
She thought it strange, as much time as she had spent at the sublevel kennel, that she had never seen his caretakers. She knew he was fed and watered and that the kennel was hosed down, but had never seen anyone come near.
After two days being used to feeling her hands on him, Elora carefully brought out the face collar and leash. Blackie looked at her suspiciously as she explained that he couldn’t leave his cell without it. The lingual explanation wasn’t for his benefit, but she might as well make sense to herself while she talked.
He sniffed the leash and sneezed his disapproval. When she began to draw the collar over his ears, he tensed and looked wary, but allowed it. Clearly the dog yearned for someone he could trust, badly enough to take a chance. She attached the leash, stood, then gently led him up and down the length of the kennel a few times so that he could get used to the pressure on his face and know that no harm would come from it.
Making liberal use of chicken treats she spent the next few days teaching him to heel, sit, and stay using an archaic language that did not exist in this world. That insured that he would not respond to commands given by anyone else. He proved to be so smart that very little repetition and reinforcement was needed. He picked up new things quickly and was eager to please.
However, she could not take the next step, which was taking him out of the kennel without knowing how he would react in the presence of other humans. She chose Ram as the most likely candidate because she sensed that he would be reluctant to say no to her. So that day when he showed up for their regular afternoon movie, she told him she had a surprise.
“You what?” Ram seemed a little out of sorts about her revelation.
“You heard me perfectly well. I’ve been working with him for weeks and we’ve progressed to the stage where I need to see how he will react to other people.”
Ram narrowed his eyes at her. “Elora, don’t try to deflect with that haughty thing ‘cause we’re stayin’ on point and it’s this. People call me reckless, but even I think this is looney. You’d have to have a death wish to go inside the cage with that dog!”
“Come see. You’ll change your mind. Promise.”
When Ram looked at those pleading eyes, he felt his good judgment slipping. He blinked twice trying to remember his objection until he saw her pack the tranq pistol. “You know people do no’ usually need tranq’s big enough to bring down a rhino when they’re out for a stroll with their pet.”
“Just a precaution.” She angled a smiling challenge at Ram as she filled her pocket with chicken treats. “Don’t be such an old woman. Come on.”
Ram laughed softly. “Who would have ever thought that you would end up being a bad influence on me?”
When they reached the corner past which Blackie would be able to see as well as hear and smell what was going on, Elora stopped Ram. She gave him the tranq pistol already loaded with canisters and showed him how to use it.
“Give me a couple of minutes to say hello and prepare him. When I’m ready for you, I’ll call out.”
He caught her by the arm. “Elora, are you very, very sure about this?” Starting deep in her throat he heard the beginnings of an ugly noise that sounded like chicken clucking.
He scowled. “Bawk bawks?” Unbelievable. He glanced away like he was trying to gather patience. “Are you serious?” Elora’s bawk, bawk, bawks were growing in volume and intensity.
“I give you a first rate education in pop culture and then you use it against me?” Bawk bawks getting louder. And she was good at it, too. There's an art to bawk bawk delivery.
“Oh for... Fine. Waitin’ here.”
When she disappeared around the corner, he waited for the inevitable snarling and growling, which can be quite loud coming from an Alsatian. But all he heard was the clank of cyclone fencing and the hushed tones of Elora’s voice. He heard her call his name and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
She was standing inside the kennel next to the dog, holding his leash. When Blackie saw Rammel coming toward the cage he assumed stalking stance, head lowered, nose and ears pointed forward intently.
He barked out a warning and Elora gave him a slight leash correction letting him know she didn’t approve. As Ram continued to advance, she told Blackie to sit. He complied. She gave him a chicken treat, petting him, and telling him he was such a good boy. He didn’t take his eyes off Ram, but didn’t demonstrate signals of fear. He was becoming everything a mature, well-adjusted Alsatian male should be: proud, confident and at ease. Ram thought that he had never, in his life, seen anything more amazing. That is, until she got Blackie to lay on his back and ask for a tummy rub.
Elora asked Ram to come close enough to the chain link that she could reach through and touch him. When Ram stepped too close, Blackie eyed the tranq pistol and gave him an almost inaudible growl, but Elora corrected it immediately.
There was an opening a few inches high at the top of the gate, just enough room to get her arm through. She reached out and petted Ram telling Blackie that Ram was a good boy, too.
Ram was wondering how pathetic it must be that he was enjoying being petted and told he was a good boy.
Blackie had passed the test with flying colors and deserved to audition for more freedom.
Elora asked Ram to back up about twenty feet. When he was in place, she opened the gate keeping a firm hold on the leash. She exited first and then asked Blackie t
o heel, which he did. They walked the length of the hallway away from Ram, returned and then walked past Ram without incident. Elora showered him with praise and chicken treats. They jogged up and back a few times. She was amazed that his muscles hadn’t atrophied from the confinement.
Blackie didn’t want to go back into the kennel, but was eventually persuaded with enough treats.
That night she had dinner at B Team’s table and shared the news with Storm and Kay. Storm was even more upset than Ram had been, but, with assurances from Ram, allowed himself to be conscripted into service along with Kay. The next day Elora repeated the exercise with three men instead of one. Blackie accepted them with Elora’s encouragement and walked past them without incident.
“Which one of you three brave knights is willing to be the first to pet the dog?”
After a slight hesitation born of self-preservation, Ram handed the tranq pistol to Storm and stepped forward. Elora had Blackie sit and instructed Ram to advance slowly, holding out the back of his hand. Blackie sniffed Ram’s hand, gave a tentative little lick, and allowed Ram to run his fingers over the big dog’s lush coat. Like Elora, Ram loved animals and had a connection with them.
They had just put Blackie back into the kennel when he startled everyone present by suddenly snarling, baring his long, sharp, white teeth and throwing himself against the cage. A man wearing a maintenance uniform came around the corner, but stopped in his tracks, looking startled when he saw the little gathering.
“Hey. What’s going on here?”
Storm looked from the man, to the dog, and back again. “I think maybe you’re the one who needs to answer that question. Is that a taser on your belt?” The man narrowed his eyes and looked uncertain as to how to answer. As Storm started walking toward him he backed up. “What would maintenance personnel be doing with a taser inside Jefferson Unit?”
“It’s for self defense. How would you like to have the job of feeding that monster and cleaning up after it?” He looked both defensive and guilty.
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