Liz folded like a blade of grass in the wind, and with no resistance, Braughton fell forward. Liz pushed up against his sword, giving him more momentum, then followed it with a kick as she continued into a backwards roll. She neatly gained her feet just before hearing Braughton land on his back behind her.
Elizabeth spun around, raced to Braughton’s side, and kicked his sword out of reach before he managed to retrieve it. She playfully put her sword under his chin when he looked up at her.
“Am I getting any better?” she asked innocently. “It felt like that may have been better.”
“That was much better,” he replied, though looking much less impressed than she thought he should. “Although, there are still a few things you could learn.”
Her mouth opened, ready with a comeback, but was silenced by a small point of pressure at her stomach. She looked down and saw a long dagger in Braughton’s hand, pointed at her chest.
How did she miss that? All this time and she didn’t even have a clue he was carrying the dagger. She closed her mouth and held out a hand to Braughton. The voices were silent and she could feel some of her self-doubt returning. Possibly Braughton felt it too as he took her hand.
“Most of what you still need to learn will only come with experience,” he explained. “There are still some skills I can teach you, but you have already progressed much faster than most of the others before you.” He wasn’t used to handing out encouragement, so he hoped it sounded sincere.
Liz allowed a tiny bit of pride to swell as she silently nodded with a small smile. After a moment of awkward silence, she asked, “So, where were you this morning?”
Now it was Braughton who smiled, as he said, “You needed a break. And I needed a way to say sorry for how hard I’ve been pushing you.” She started to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her, his face turning serious again. “I have failed to uphold my end of this partnership. I’ve been reckless with you.”
She could tell this was difficult for him, and even though she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, she was now certain how she had wound up in her bed this morning. She felt her cheeks redden and wondered how she must have looked, sprawled out unconscious on the floor. Neither one looked at the other as he continued. “I know all of this is new to you, but you are also something new to me, so…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat and quickly added, “Just come with me, please.”
He headed for the trail back to the monastery, and Liz fell into step behind him. Wanting to change the subject, she said, “Now, when you say there are some ‘skills’ you can still teach me, you’re not talking about stuff like ‘paint the fence’ or ‘wax the car’, right?”
Braughton stopped, and turned back to look at her. She had her hands up, palms out – wax on, wax off style. He stared a moment, then merely shook his head before turning away. “Maybe I have seen too many movies,” she mumbled to herself.
The first thing to hit her was the smell. The heavy aroma of oil and metal told her what was in the room even before Braughton turned on the light. How she had missed it the last time Braughton took her past this door on the way to the hidden library, she had no clue.
“Surprise,” he said with no enthusiasm as he flipped the light switch and moved aside. The comment made her smile, but when she actually saw the room, her jaw dropped. She knew it would be guns, but she had no idea there would be so many. Pistols, rifles, shotguns, automatics, semi-automatics, and more all lined several floor to ceiling shelves. There were more here than they had back at the police station.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any use for guns,” she said, taking a step into the room.
“Which is why they’re locked up down here,” he explained. “Besides, these aren’t mine.” She turned back with a raised eyebrow. “Books aren’t the only things I’ve recovered.” Elizabeth nodded and turned back to the room. “Most of these came from one large cache I discovered,” he continued as she strolled between the shelves. “I nearly missed it, and guns were the last thing I expected to find, but I figured if someone went to so much trouble to hide them, then I should probably take them.” When she reached the back of the room she noticed stacks of ammunition, enough for a small army.
“You were right,” Braughton said, catching her attention again. “I haven’t been using them the right way.” She smiled, recalling her little demonstration. Seems as though she may have impressed him after all. “If you think they might be useful, you’re welcome to them.”
Oh, the uses she could imagine. Her hand was already reaching for the closest one, but stopped short when he spoke again. “But not right now.” She pulled her hand back, as if it had been slapped. “You need to continue to focus on the sword. I don’t want you to rely on these weapons to fight the vampire. The sword should always be your weapon of choice. Once you’ve learned to trust your ability with it as much as the gun, then you may take from here whatever you please.”
Elizabeth looked down and realized she was resting her hand on the butt of her pistol. She sighed as she removed the belt and placed her sidearm on the shelf. She had no idea where she was going to put her hand now without looking like a little teapot. “I suppose the only way I’m going to get comfortable with the sword is with experience, right?”
Braughton nodded.
“Alright then,” she said with a faint smile. “So, when do we start slaying vampires?”
Chapter Eighteen
Liz felt fantastic. It was like a huge, oppressive weight she didn’t even know she’d been carrying had been lifted. The desire to train and drive to excel were still there, but the urgency and sense of dread were muted. It was strange, she couldn’t even explain why she’d had those feelings. Regardless of their origin, in their absence she was rested, focused, and quickly gaining mastery over the sword. She hadn’t managed to knock Braughton to the ground again, but he wasn’t offering any more training tips either. In fact, he wasn’t saying much of anything. She took it as an opportunity to ask more questions.
Considering the disappointing outcome of her ‘what are the rules’ line of questioning, Liz didn’t have high hopes, but anything was better than silence. And, as he had pointed out, this was all still new to her, so he was lucky she had been quiet as long as she had. Besides, she enjoyed seeing him distracted when she talked while sparring.
“What do vampires look like?” she asked between swings.
“What?”
“I mean, can you tell by looking at one that it’s a vampire?” she added. “Are they all pale, or have long fingernails?”
“They just look like regular people,” Braughton answered, the lines of annoyance prominent on his forehead. “Their fingernails are as long as they let them grow, and the skin pretty much just stays the same shade it was when they turned.”
That made sense to her. She paused a moment to block a few strikes, then her eyes widened as she recalled another bit of vampire lore. “Are they all attractive and sexy to lure us in?”
Braughton stopped and lowered his sword. “They’re predators. Does a zebra think a lion is attractive?” Liz was fairly certain the answer was no, but honestly had no idea what went on between lions and zebras. “They catch their prey like any other predator: they camouflage themselves, stalk it, and strike when you’re most vulnerable.”
“So, just regular people then,” Liz said with a firm nod. “Got it.”
“Until they show their teeth,” Braughton said as he lunged forward.
Teeth. She remembered clearly the first glimpse of Braughton’s teeth she’d caught. There was no mistaking it, they were the teeth of a pure predator.
She tried again over the next few days, but his answers to her questions dwindled from single words to grunts, and then finally to a simple shake of the head. The problem, she quickly discovered, was she didn’t even know what she didn’t know. She was resigned to asking about every vampire myth and trope she could remember, which seemed to onl
y annoy Braughton. During all of it though there was not one mention of slaying even one vampire. So, it was with great interest she listened when she heard voices coming from the normally quiet kitchen one morning.
“And you’re sure of this?” Braughton’s voice drifted down the hallway to her.
“As sure as we can be,” Monk answered.
“Which means what, exactly?”
“It means this is a new nest, so we don’t know much about it yet.”
“Nest?” Liz interrupted. She had debated simply continuing to eavesdrop from the hall, but decided on a more direct approach and entered the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you’re discussing birds.”
Monk stood at his regular post over the sink, and Braughton leaned against the counter beside him. Neither man seemed surprised at her entrance, and Monk greeted her with his typical smile.
“Not birds,” he assured her over his shoulder. “Vampires.” Liz raised an eyebrow. “When a group of them lives together, we call it a nest,” he explained. He turned back to Braughton and added, “Which is something someone should have already told you.” If he wanted a reaction from Braughton, Monk would have needed to add an elbow to the stomach. “Try to eat a little extra for breakfast this morning,” he said to Liz. “I’ve a feeling you’re going to need it today.”
“Need it for what?”
“Field trip,” Braughton answered. “Time to test what you’ve learned.”
Test. The word brought both excitement and nervousness in equal measure. She was anxious to prove herself, but scared what the price of failing might be. The thought of eating anything made her nauseous, but she wasn’t going to escape Monk’s watchful eye without eating something. While she picked at a biscuit, Braughton got the car ready, leaving her and Monk alone in the kitchen. “So,” she said between tiny bites, “what makes this nest so special?”
Monk paused for a moment, letting the water run over his soapy hands. He then turned the faucet off, dried his hands on a towel, and turned to face Liz. “I think I’ve been the middle-man between the two of you for long enough now,” he said with a small smile. “You’re about to be trapped in a car together for several hours. I suggest you make the most of your time.” He exited the room before Liz could reply.
Several hours, Monk had said. Less than half an hour in and already Liz was beginning to wonder how long before she would scream. She had tried starting off with the easy questions: “Where are we going?”, “How long will it take?”, “Can I turn on the radio?”. Her answers had been north, a few hours, and there are no radio stations out here. He wasn’t avoiding her questions, but he wasn’t encouraging any further conversation either.
“Am I annoying you?” Liz finally asked.
Braughton glanced over at her for a moment before answering. “No, not really. Why do you ask?”
Liz shrugged. “You’re barely answering my questions. It’s been almost two months since I met you, but there’s still so much about your world I don’t know. I’ve practically had to pry every scrap of information from you, almost like it pains you to talk to me.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “If we were dating this would be when I asked if you were breaking up with me.”
She is different from the others, he reminded himself. He flashed her a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to all the questions. There’s never been a need for explanation before you. It’s always been a comfortable silence. An understanding of what needs to be, without speaking.”
She found herself slowly nodding. She thought of the feelings, and even images that seemed to almost broadcast from him, and on some level she knew exactly what he meant. Almost.
“No one before me has asked any questions?” Braughton silently shook his head. Liz took a deep breath, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but … not even the women?” It was something the guys at the station would have said as they laughed and slapped each other on the back. Still, there’s a reason stereotypes exist.
“Actually, you’re the first.” She thought there may have been a slight tinge of red on his cheeks, but when she looked again, it was gone.
“I’m the first woman you’ve … bonded with?” He nodded. “Well, that explains a lot,” she mumbled. If he’d never had to explain things to anyone, she imagined it must be difficult to start now. Not to mention, with six hundred years of experience, where do you start?
She was going to have to pull the answers out of him, she finally realized. No problem. She had dealt with plenty of suspects and witnesses who were initially unwilling or unable to provide her with what she wanted. It just took a little encouragement.
“So,” she began, “I’m guessing you’ve cleaned out a lot of these nests.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s it like? What can I expect?” She turned her body towards him, hoping to draw him in to a conversation.
“They’re all a little different,” he shrugged.
Not good enough. She sat silently facing him, staring and waiting. When he finally turned to look at her, she was nodding, with eyes wide, rolling her hands in a ‘go on’ motion. He turned back to the road, and took a deep breath.
“When we first started, it was simple. Hit them in the middle of the day, and just burn the place to the ground. What the fire didn’t kill, the sun finished off.” He paused and glanced over at her. She was still staring. She wasn’t about to let him stop there.
“I don’t know how many we destroyed that way before we realized there were more than just vampires inside.” He cleared his throat, and shifted a bit in his seat. “There were also humans. Not all of them were there against their will, but we weren’t willing to sacrifice them. We had to change our method of attack.” His voice changed, becoming quieter and more distant. “A lot of lives were lost during that time. On both sides.”
There was sadness in his voice. Regret. Whatever else he might be, Liz found it a relief to hear such … human emotions. She wanted to press him for more, wanted to know everything about this method of attack, but she knew that would come on its own. It might not be until they were standing at the front door, but sooner or later he would share the plan with her. Now that she had him talking though, there was something else she wanted to know.
“I overheard you and Monk talking about the nest,” she began. “Sounds like there’s something special about this one.” It was a simple observation, not even a question. She hoped he would pick it up and run with it.
“Books,” he said.
Great, she thought. Back to one word answers. She was considering encouraging him to say more when she noticed him watching her from the corner of his eye, and was that a hint of a smile? She crossed her arms and stared silently at him.
“Did Monk tell you some of the Brothers are obsessed with shopping online?” he finally said. Liz raised an eyebrow, and shook her head, but didn’t speak. “It’s mostly searching for and bidding on ancient relics,” he explained. “But a few days ago, one of the Brothers found an auction for some very old, very rare books. Pictures of the inside cover showed the mark of the Brotherhood. They’re some of the missing texts I’ve been searching for.”
“Who’s selling them?”
“They were able to track the post back to an address.”
“The nest,” Liz concluded. Then, another thought, “Wait. When you say ‘they were able to track’, do you mean the monks?” Braughton nodded. “Tracked, as in, with the computer?” Another nod. Cybermonks. The word just popped into her head and she couldn’t help but smile as she mumbled, “Who would have thought?”
Braughton continued, “If we’re lucky, there will be more books there.”
“And if we aren’t lucky?”
“Then we persuade them to tell us where they acquired the books.”
Persuade. She liked that word. It was something with which she’d had plenty of experience. She was still unsure exactly how he planned on dispensing
this persuasion, but there was something else she wanted to know first. Something that had been bothering her since this all began.
“Why,” she began, then stopped and shook her head. Wrong word. “How did you choose me?”
He was quiet for a few moments. Perhaps it was another one of those questions no one had ever bothered to ask before. “I didn’t choose you any more than you decided to join me.”
It wasn’t the answer she had expected, but she couldn’t deny she understood the truth of it. There’d been no real thought or consideration about whether or not to help him. The decision had simply been made, and she had accepted it.
Apparently, sitting and staring silently at him was now being interpreted as ‘more’, because he continued. “I’ve never picked who I bonded with. I’ve always just been kind of pulled to them.” She recalled the feeling she had while chasing him, or wasn’t it also like she was being pulled, almost directed to him?
“So you don’t know anything about me either,” Liz said to herself.
“Not exactly.” She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say you were right about the police station. You could have walked in and out the front door without anyone noticing.”
“You read my file?” She wasn’t sure exactly how she felt. Certainly exposed, as she had no idea what was in her file, and could only assume it was everything.
He shrugged. “To be fair, you went there looking for one on me first.” He glanced over and gave her a small smile. He was right, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“Alright,” she admitted, “I suppose that is fair.” She leaned closer to him, curious now. “So, what do you think? About me, I mean.”
“I’m trying to keep an open mind.” He didn’t look at her, but his smile grew a little larger as he said it. She leaned back with a laugh.
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