For the next hour she conducted a thorough analysis of strength and agility. The girls were in excellent shape, but excellence was just a starting point for Black Swan knights. They also hadn’t had the benefit of state-of-the-art training equipment and techniques to promote the pursuit of physical perfection. So they were far behind the other hunters on the field.
Elora looked at her clipboard, which she kept in a clear plastic sack because small five-minute showers intermittently came and went.
“We have a lot of work to do, ladies. Take a break while I decide where to start.”
Before the twins could decide how to spend break time, Rosie blew a whistle signaling that everybody should convene where she was.
When all had formed a semicircle, Rosie said, “This…” she repeatedly tossed a black object that looked like a vampire slayer stake into the air and caught it, “is a mock stake.” She stabbed it into her thigh. “Rubber, but it’s the same size and weight as the real thing. We’re going to do some workouts so that you vampire hunters don’t let your skills get rusty and, also, because all resources are useful. You never know.”
It could be said that last sentence was neither truthful nor complete, but it was understood by onlookers as a reminder that they were working toward facing a great unknown.
Finngarick found himself drifting toward where Sheridan stood with Elora and Shivaun. He couldn’t help himself. She was like a magnet. He was already having trouble remembering what it was like to feel alone in the world. He’d never be alone again so long as either of them lived.
Rosie noticed his movement. “Finngarick. Come on over here and show us how to use this thing.”
Torn was vaguely aware that his name had been called. He looked away from Sheridan and toward Rosie, who was apparently waiting for him. Glancing at Sheridan one more time, he moved forward.
“You know how to use this thing?” Rosie asked.
Finngarick chuckled in a cocky way. “I’ve been fighting demons a long time.”
Rosie barked out a laugh and shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no no no no no no no no no. You’ve been fighting humans infected with a virus that stimulated parts of the brain not usually lit up. The difference is out of this world.” She smiled at her own joke while Torn looked dubious. “I see you’re not convinced. Okay. I’m gonna take it easy on you and, instead of teaching this lesson myself, I’m gonna ask my grandpop to school you up.”
“Grand!” she shouted at the air.
They all heard a Mario Brothers ‘power up’ sound clip just before Deliverance materialized next to Rosie. Those in the crowd who’d never seen elementals come and go before, gasped.
“What?” he said, sounding less than pleased to be called.
“Sir Finngarick here is going to stab you with this stake.”
Deliverance looked at the rubber stake in Torn’s hand and sneered. “What is that?”
“It’s a rubber stake,” Rosie replied.
To her Deliverance said, “At least give me the dignity of a real stake.”
Rosie shrugged, grinning, and signaled to Grieve’s assistant to bring over a real wooden stake. When she tried to give it to Torn, he shook his head and looked to Rosie. “What are ye doin’? I can no’ use that on yer grandda.”
“See?” Rosie said to Deliverance. “He’s not going to believe that you’re not in danger until he sees it for himself.”
Deliverance rolled his eyes while Rosie gave the rubber stake back to Torn. “Very well, knight,” she said. “Show us how to kill a demon with a stake.”
Torn struck with a quickness that looked superhuman. But he wasn’t superhuman. And therefore he stabbed at air.
After ten minutes of being made to look foolish, Finngarick was flushed with embarrassment, breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat, while Deliverance laughed like a kid playing ‘keep away’.
Rosie took the rubber stake and dismissed Torn. “Thank you for demonstrating my point, Sir Finngarick.”
Elora watched as Finngarick stepped back into the crowd. He didn’t return to Sheridan’s side, but went the other direction and she could see he felt humiliated. It hadn’t been Rosie’s intention, but she was young and inexperienced with the emotional consequences of putting other people on the spot.
Elora wasn’t the only one watching. Sheridan’s gaze followed Finngarick as he practically shrank back behind the spectators. Seeing him embarrassed gave her an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to break away and go find him.
“What are ye lookin’ for?” said Shivaun.
“Nothin’. I…” Sheridan didn’t have to try to finish that sentence.
“The best vampire hunter who ever lived,” Rosie said, “is no match for a demon. I’m trying to make you understand that you’re going to need to take the training, the precautions, and the use of tech advantages seriously.”
Elora made her way to Rosie and whispered in her ear.
“Finngarick. You’re sparring with Sir Hawking. Now.”
Elora stopped Ram and pulled him close.
“I’d love a little mornin’ delight, but the little mistress has ordered me to hand Finngarick his ass. Somethin’ I’ve been lookin’ forward to for too long.”
He pulled away, but she pulled him back. As his brows drew together, she said, “I need a favor.”
“I told you, love…”
“Not that. Just listen. I need you to let him win.”
Ram’s famed temper rarely showed its head these days, but the idea of letting Finngarick win sent him straight to livid. His brows were drawn almost together, his eyes shooting fire. “Are. You. Mad?”
“Just stop a minute. He’s newly mated and she hasn’t come around yet.”
Ram looked over at Torn. “Mated?”
“Yes. To his partner. And he was just humiliated in front of her.”
Ram ran a hand over his head and down his face. He would rather slide down a razor blade than be publicly bested by Finngarick. “Great fuckin’ Paddy, Elora.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask.” She pressed her body into his side suggestively. “But I will make it up to you.”
He looked down at her, softening. “Today.”
She gave him the sex-dripping smile that had always been an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Yes. Today.” She punctuated that with a giggle that made Ram chuckle.
He shook his head. “What I do for you.”
“Oh, but don’t tell anybody you know. She’s keeping it secret from her sister.”
“Great. Paddy.” He seemed to switch gears thinking about his reward and pinned her with the twinkle that almost looked like it had to be superimposed. He leaned in and lowered his voice so that only she could hear, even with elves in the vicinity. “I like it when you bathe in that lavender stuff.”
Elora laughed, but was clearly just as excited to start their ‘date’ early by talking about it.
“Hawking!” Rosie yelled from across the field.
“Did you hear that?” Ram said. “The little shit yelled in my direction and called me ‘Hawking’.”
He didn’t wait for Elora’s reaction, but walked off toward the ring in mock disgust.
Sirs Hawking and Finngarick both left shirts and shoes outside the ring. They stretched a little and began dancing around.
“Very well, gentlemen,” Mad Dog began after pulling himself inside the ring. “You know the rules. Pull your strikes. The object is practice without injury. Agreed?”
Ram and Torn both nodded at him.
When Mad Dog said, “Go!” the two knights got serious about sparring. They practiced a style of martial arts that had been introduced to Black Swan fourteen years before, when Elora Laiken had made a big impression by accidentally breaking a couple of Ram’s ribs.
The match proceeded as expected for about six minutes. Though no one else noticed, Ram found Elora in the crowd. She knew there was a special message for only her in the look he gave her and within seconds she kn
ew why.
When Torn attempted to sweep Ram’s legs out from under him, Ram had to consciously work at allowing it to happen. It was that exact maneuver that Elora had used to put him on the disabled list all those years ago. Since then, blocking it or avoiding it, because it was easy to see coming once that lesson had been learned, had become second nature to him.
No one was more surprised than Finngarick when Ram went down hard. He rushed over, genuinely hoping he hadn’t done any real harm and said something to Ram that only the two fighters and Mad Dog heard. Ram stayed on his back for almost a full minute, but turned his head to the side so that he could give Elora a small smile full of promise that made her blush.
Standing at the far rear, as an observer, Helm was so stunned to see his father go down that he was frozen in place for a few moments, feeling like the air had been knocked out of his own lungs. When he got his wits together, he charged toward the ring.
Fortunately his mother grabbed him from behind. “Do not interfere,” she said in a low, but firm voice.
“But he…”
Giving Helm no choice but to accompany her, Elora pulled her son off to the side. When they were away from the others, he jerked out of her grasp.
“Helm. You can’t help the temper you got from your dad. And maybe your mum as well. But you are going to have to learn to control it.” Helm looked back and saw that Finngarick was pulling Ram to his feet. “Not just because you may be acting monarch someday, but because you’re stronger and faster than others. You have to have more control than others.”
“But…” He looked back and saw that his father was walking off none the worse for wear. “What good is it to have extra stuff if you can’t protect your family?”
Elora’s expression softened at that. “You can protect your family, Helm. And I love you for that instinct. The trick is to know when they need your help. Control will help you with that.” She waved in the direction of the ring. “This is theater.”
“Theater?” he said, cocking his head as he tried to discern her meaning. It was a skill he would need to acquire in the next few years because, certainly, a big part of being politically adept was reading subtext and correctly identifying motives.
“Yeah.” She reached up and lightly ran her fingers over the braids that were tight on his scalp. “No one is trying to hurt your family. You understand?” He pressed his lips together and scowled so that his youthful face absorbed the frown and left his skin still smooth.
“Are you saying Dad can take care of himself?”
Elora laughed out loud. “Well. No doubt that is true. He doesn’t need you or me to help on that score. He may have had his own reasons for allowing Finngarick to appear to prevail. But regardless, your dad is unharmed.”
She gestured in Ram’s direction with her head. Helm’s eyes followed to find his father standing with a few hunters, his arms crossed over his chest, confident, laughing, and, as his mother had said, none the worse for wear.
“It’s no secret that I hope when you’re twenty-five you choose not to be king, but just in case, I’m going to try to get you ready. First, good kings need to be able to keep secrets. Here’s a secret for you to keep. Your dad took a dive.”
Helm jerked his head in Ram’s direction. “Why would he do that?”
“Second lesson. Why would he do that?” she repeated.
“It’s a puzzle.” He looked at Elora.
She nodded. “Most of life is.”
“Okay. I’ll play.” She smiled. “Why would he make it look like Finngarick won?” He looked around for a couple of seconds. “Finngarick was embarrassed by that demon.”
“Deliverance. Yes.”
Helm’s lips twitched. “And it’s pretty much impossible to embarrass Dad.”
Elora smiled. “Keep going.”
“Dad doesn’t have anything to prove. So he could afford to let Finngarick have one to restore his… confidence?” Elora made a face. “Ego?” She scrunched her nose. “Dignity?”
“I’m thinking bingo.”
“Wow.” Helm looked over at his dad for a minute before saying, “Did you put him up to it?”
Elora thought perhaps Helm was getting too good at reading people. “I decline to answer.” Helm laughed. “What’s your take away from this?”
He tipped his chin up. Elora thought he was the most beautiful thing in the universe, even if he did look a lot like her. “Head before heart.”
“Well put. If you do decide to be acting king someday, you’ll be a good one.”
He tried to bite back a smile, thinking that ‘men’ his age shouldn’t take such pleasure in hearing praise from their mothers.
The rest of the day’s schedule was uneventful and went according to plan, thanks to Grieve’s masterful organizing and his uncanny ability to herd hunters, a bunch of personalities that were not inclined to fall in easily.
Everybody was given half an hour to grab a shower and dry clothes before lunch at one. The hunters’ rooms were all on the second floor. They had plumbed a large men-only shower at one end and a smaller communal shower for the twins, and, perhaps, future female hunters at the other end. The staff and guest rooms were on the third floor and had en suite baths, an extravagance that had cost The Order a medium-sized fortune.
Everyone took the seats they’d been assigned the night before and consumed enormous amounts of Ploughman sandwiches and thick stew.
Finngarick looked over his shoulder at the server. “No ale? ‘Tis sinful to serve us stew like this without a thick red ale.”
The server smiled and said, “Sorry. Orders. No alcohol this week.”
“This week?” Finngarick’s squeak made Sheridan chuckle. He looked across at her and said, “We’ll have to find other pleasures to fill the vacuum.”
She turned an especially pretty shade of pink that caused Torn to harden instantly. The wink that followed caused her color to deepen even more.
Finngarick had spent the entire morning looking forward to being alone with Sheridan again. When the door closed behind them, they both stood looking at their separate beds, one on each side of their bedroom.
“Well,” Finngarick looked down at her with an eyebrow cocked, “what shall we do?” When his face split into a grin, her eyes involuntarily went to his mouth and very white teeth.
“Hatin’ to say it, but I suppose I’m no’ as fit as, em, the rest of you. So I was thinkin’ naps?”
“Naps?” His squeak was almost as high as his reaction to no alcohol had been.
“Well, we can at least lie down while we get to know each other.”
“Excellent suggestion. Your bed or mine?”
She demonstrated the eye roll she’d learned from Lacey and said, “You in yours, me in mine.” Seeing his face fall wasn’t as funny as it should have been. She felt his disappointment keenly and found herself thinking she’d rather give Finngarick happiness than frustration. Not to mention that she couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt for him to sit so close to her on the bed. The side of her leg still felt warm from the contact of his body.
“Will give you this, Sher. You’re stubborn. Means you’re goin’ to be a fine hunter.”
“Why would bein’ stubborn make me a good hunter?”
“Means you will no’ give up easily. Sometimes workin’ for Black Swan means no’ givin’ up until somethin’ happens to make you remember why you’re doin’ what you’re doin.” He strode to his bed and sat on the side. “Does that make sense?”
“The part about no’ givin’ up does.”
She lay down on her side facing Finngarick. After a few seconds he lay down on his side facing her.
“What part of Ireland are ye from?” she asked.
“Dunkilly. ‘Tis a little town on the North Sea. Always cold. People no’ from there think ‘tis the worst place on Earth.” He chuckled quietly. “Actually people who are from there think ‘tis the worst place on Earth.”
“What was your family like
?”
He supposed he was going to have that conversation. She would not be able to help wanting to know everything about him. At the moment, he was thinking that, if he’d really believed there was to be a mate in his future, he might have made different choices. Not have so many shameful things to tell. He’d learned over the years that stalling never helped anything. Facing up and getting over bad spots sooner rather than later was always the best course of action. At least for him.
So he spent the next hour and a half quietly talking about what it was like to be a kid shunned by townspeople, what it was like to be one of the infamous Z Team whom everyone in The Order considered to be throwaways, and what it was like to be a floater with no home and no one to count on. He talked about the close friendships he’d formed with other members of Z Team, but it was mostly a story of anger, bitterness and spitefulness.
Finngarick watched Sheridan’s face closely the entire time. She never looked away from him. Her eyes stayed locked to his. And her expression never changed. He could see that she was listening. Intently. But he had no idea what she was thinking about his story.
When he’d been quiet for a while, she said, “How did you come to be here?”
He barked out a laugh. “Strange enough, I was recommended by the husband of our fearless leader.”
“Rosie?”
“Aye.”
“And her husband is…”
“Sovereign of Jefferson Unit.”
“I know I’m new to Black Swan and all, but is that no’ a big, em…” she searched her memory for the expression Lacey would use, “…deal?”
“Oh, aye. Jefferson Unit is the crown jewel, you might say.”
“Well, you must be very important and very good if the head of Jefferson Unit recommended you.”
Finngarick almost heard an audible crack in the ice that had formed around his heart before he was as old as Aelshelm Hawking. He heard his lungs take in a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a prelude to tears. But she wasn’t finished.
“No wonder you sound like you speak from personal experience when you talk about no’ givin’ up. You’re a wonder of perseverance, Finngarick.”
Finngarick (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 2) Page 17