Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “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 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 the U.K.?”

  “Once.” He nodded.

  “What did you do before you came here?”

  “Black Ops.” He grinned, running a hand over his stubbly head. “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. “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.

  “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 and 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 millimeter 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?”

  “Yep. 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 of King Arthur’s corpse.”

  I laughed out loud. “Oh, I love that girl. She’s so funny.”

  “Yeah.” Mike chuckled. “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.”

  My mouth fell open. “Mike, what happened to you? You’re all… grown up.”

  A warm, mischievous grin turned one corner of his mouth. “I have to be. I’m the man responsible for defending the most valuable thing in all of our lives”—he winked, suggesting that thing was me, until he said—“our freedom.”

  I laughed, patting his arm. “And you are the best man for the job.”

  “I know.” He nodded and wandered over to a table of weapons.

  “Um, so I get that you’re using venom-tipped swords and all, and maybe this is a stupid question, but wouldn’t it just be easier to bite the vamps instead of doing all this weapons training and stuff?”

  “These guys will need those weapons, Ara.” He presented the greater mass of the knights. “We’re only turning the four knights in your personal guard into what I am. The rest, I’m going to turn when it’s time. So we need weapons training because their bite won’t kill vamps. The only way will be with venom-tipped swords.”

  “Really? So, I don’t have to bite all of them?” I asked, pointing to the group of giant well-toned men.

  Mike smiled softly. “No. We don’t need fifty men that can kill vampires. Me and the four in your Private Guard should do.”

  I bounced my head with approval. “Smart thinking.”

  “Well, it was actually Morgaine’s idea.”

  “So, are those swords tipped yet?” I pointed to the table.

  Mike slid a long and very heavy-looking piece of metal out of the pile and ran his fingers down it. “No. We keep those ones in the armory. This one’s for training purposes only. We never, ever keep venom-tipped swords in the training hall, Ara, and if one even got in here by mistake, someone would be in big trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “See that Asian guy over there?” He pointed to the back of the room.

  “I see about twelve Asian guys over there.”

  He laughed. “Well, anyway, one of our knights is a vampire.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and I have several more—guys I trust, who are joining the Core this week.”

  “Okay, so no venom-tipped swords.”

  “Right, and no biting.”

  I nodded.

  “Here.” He gently tossed the sword to me. It spun through the air, handle driving a path, and my hand shot up to catch it, nearly taking me backward with the force I used—way too much for such a light piece of metal. “Still not used to all this strength, huh?” Mike laughed, taking a sword of his own.

  “Not yet.” I smiled and looked down the blade, feeling its weight in my hands; it was so light, like an oddly-shaped broomstick. “How do you make the venom stay on the tip? Wouldn’t it wear off after two jabs?”

  “Nope. Have you actually looked at venom, Ara?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s thick, like blood. When it dries, it doesn’t lose its potency. If we colored it blue and wiped it all over this blade, when it dried, you’d still see blue. And, like salt, it sticks around in tiny particles. You only need the smallest amount to touch their bloodstream.”

  “What about when the sword gets really bloody?”

  “It just lubricates the dried venom and makes it act faster. I haven’t tested it, but we reckon you could get about a hundred kills from each sword.”

  “Oh, cool. Well, there are only about a thousand vampires in existence, isn’t there, so that should be fine?”

  “You got it. Now”—he grabbed my fingers and tightened my grip on the sword—“I wanna see how you handle yourself wi
th this thing. Don’t drop it, okay?”

  “Mike.” I rolled my eyes. “I can probably handle this thing better than you.”

  “Ha!” He turned away and handed his sword to Falcon while he took off his shirt. “We’ll see.”

  I hoped I could handle it. So far, I’d only used wooden swords—no one being brave enough to stick sharp metal in my hands and let me come at them. And this was heavier and shaped differently than the wooden ones; the handle thicker and a little slippery in my fingers.

  Mike folded his arms, standing beside the four knights wearing a smug grin, and said, “Okay, Ara, take combat position.”

  I planted my heels to the ground and bent my knees, balancing the weight of the sword by angling my elbow on a slight tilt inward.

  “Feet further apart.” Mike pointed to my legs. I shifted them.

  “Chin up.” Falcon walked over and stood behind me, lifting my face with his fingertip.

  “And be on your guard,” Blade said in his smooth English accent as he stood beside Mike and pointed his sword at me.

  Smiling, I scanned the scene: three men in front of me, one to the side, and one I could feel behind me. I dipped my weight into my knees a little more, curling my fingers to beckon their advance. “Bring it on.”

  Mike grinned. “You heard her, boys.”

  A quick movement caught my eye to the left. I turned, feeling time slow down around me, heard the blood pump through the fingers of the hand gripping a sword, felt the cut of the blade through the muggy summer air and saw the glint of excitement in the eye of the man swinging it. But his face changed before the blade reached my flesh when he realized it would hit white space, its target bending under it, feeling the brush of wind from its crisp metal sweep over its back.

  “Shit!” Falcon said, laughing. “She’s fast, I’ll give her that.”

  Time sped up again. I sunk to my knees, rolling my spine straight to dodge the cut of a blade coming directly down my nose, missing it by a bee’s leg. Two men moved in on my right. I swung my leg out, using a fist on the ground to balance me, then thrust my sword upward into Mike’s, blocking a cut that would’ve opened my shoulder.

  The men under the swing of my leg hit the floor as my blade came back down, and I heard only a few grunts as I got to my feet again and squared my sword to slice along the blade of another. As I spun to an assault from my right, metal connected with my cheek, parting the flesh in a clean slice and forcing a high-pitched squeal from the back of my throat. I cupped my face to hold the blood in, my gut turning until the wound tingled, knitting back together.

  “Holy shit,” Quaid said.

  The knights were taken aback for only a breath more as they saw an immortal heal before their eyes, then ran in from all four sides. My forearm split open where it shot up to shield my face, while my sword clinked against Quaid’s, and all of a sudden my feet came out from under me, a fifth knight tearing me to the ground. They all piled in on top of me, pinning my arms and legs, deepening the gash as it tried to heal.

  “Get off me!”

  Quaid stood at my brow, his sword to my throat. “Yield?”

  “In your dreams.” I bent my elbow and twisted my forearm, bringing my knee up into Mike’s jaw at the same time, sending him and Ryder back with a pretty powerful blow—for me. The knights on my left ankle and wrist stupidly let their guard drop, watching Mike stumble about, cursing. I took the break, risking the condition of my gashed arm, and rolled to one side, dragging my limbs from their grip.

  Aside from the blood coating my wrist, standing felt like a new victory, but Falcon was on it; he rolled his shoulder into the ground, legs over head, and came up in front of me, his sword meeting mine with a nasty knock that made my elbow shake. I gripped the handle with both hands, angling it against each of his strikes, until Ryder thrust his in a straight jab, right between Falcon’s and mine, and I lost my grip, dropping the sword to the ground.

  Falcon kicked my sword out of reach; it skidded across the floor, stopping by the mirror, right beside any hope I had of winning this. But the defeat made something shift in me, like a decision made—like everything had already been calculated and was just waiting for that last cog. It filled me with a feeling, a rush like excitement, which rose up my arms, replacing failure with a burning charge demanding release.

  I flicked my wrist, sending a bullet of electricity into Falcon’s chest when he ran in for the kill. He stopped dead, as if he’d hit an invisible pane of glass; his arms flailing out, his body shaking once before he flew backward like a rope pulled him from behind, and hit the wall.

  “Back off.” I pointed the violent lashing of blue at Blade, then turned at the shoulder to warn the knights behind me.

  They all stopped, metal clinking on the ground as they dropped their swords, held up their hands and yelled, “Yield.”

  My winning smile swallowed my entire face. “Looks like you guys can go home.”

  Mike rose from the floor, clapping his hands. “Much better, Ara. Much, much better.”

  “Yes, simply marvelous,” a loud, humor-laced voice announced from the side of the room.

  “Arthur.” I turned around and smiled as he walked toward us.

  “Bravo, Amara. I see the rumors of your power were true.”

  I bit my lip, waiting for the electricity to recede, but my body obviously still felt under threat.

  “You’re okay, my dear.” Arthur carefully touched my shoulder and the adrenaline pumping through me eased, taking the blue light with it.

  “Ur, Chief?” Blade tapped Mike’s shoulder.

  “Dear God,” Arthur said, his panicked eyes on the back wall.

  Mike moved at a run as I spun around to see Falcon slumped heavily on the floor. “Mate, you okay?”

  “Falcon!” My gut dropped.

  Mike and Arthur got to his side first. I fell in clumsily between them, my hand hovering over the knight’s bloodied chest. “Did I kill him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “His heart’s stopped,” Arthur said, rolling up his sleeves.

  Mike grabbed the knight by the shoulders and laid him flat on the ground, then started compressions, pushing crossed hands down firmly between Falcon’s breastbones, right below a mucky, sticky mess of burned flesh. And without a second thought, I sunk my teeth into his arm. The instant his skin broke under them, blood spilled into my mouth, burning the sides of my throat like hot pins charging through each tiny taste bud and searing everything in their path. The watering response of my tongue made the blood mix into a thinner liquid, which slipped easily past my throat and into my stomach, twisting it in tight knots.

  “I got a pulse!” Mike said.

  I released my hold, spitting blood and venom to the ground as I fell back on my hand, wiping it from my nose and chin. I wanted to kick my legs and scream for them to get it off, but I was all too conscious of the fact that everyone in the room was staring.

  Blade knelt beside me, wiping his sweaty shirt around my face and down my chest where the blood dribbled. “Your Majesty, what is it, are you okay?”

  I looked up into eyes of concern and realized only then that I was crying.

  “Come on.” Mike hoisted me off the ground by my arm. “Let’s get you some blood to wash out the taste.”

  An arm, with the sleeve rolled up to reveal clear veins, appeared in front of my lips. “Your Majesty, drink,” Arthur said kindly.

  “Oh, hell no.” Mike pushed his arm away. “There is no way she’s—”

  “She’s in agony,” Arthur growled, standing face to face with Mike. “I do not care for your fears of the lust she will feel while drinking, Michael, I care that that poor girl be eased of the burning she is suffering. Now let me pass.” He stared Mike down, and as soon as he pierced his vein with his nail and the smell of his blood hit my senses, I pushed past and grabbed Arthur’s arm.

  “Ara, don’t bite him,” Mike said, with way too much panic, grabbing me.

  Arthur looked up a
t him, confused. “Didn’t know you cared.”

  I wrapped my lips around the soothing milk spilling from Arthur’s skin.

  “I don’t. But the last thing we need now is the death of a vampire at the hands of the future queen.”

  I was vaguely aware of Mike moving away but had to narrow myself in and focus only on the blood—only on the feel of it taking the burn away, like cream over salt. But the urge to bite Arthur seared. I could. I could bite him. He wasn’t immune, but if I bit him, I could give him my blood right away and he might be all right.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Mike grabbed my shoulder and rolled me away. The sensation of lust turned to a flush of heat in my cheeks as I felt the air between us.

  “Sorry, Arthur.” I wiped my mouth with my forearm. “I still get a little carried away with blood.”

  He bowed his head, rolling his sleeve down his already healed arm. “Do not think on it, Princess. It is my pleasure to appease you.”

  “Right.” Mike seemed to grow taller then, taking me by the arm. “Training’s over for you, missy. Let’s go.” As he led me from the room, he looked back at the gawking knights. “Back to work. All of you. Blade, you’re in charge.”

  “Thank you, Arthur,” I mouthed, hurrying away at more than human speed. I didn’t even get a chance to see if he heard me.

  The cool breeze and soft kiss of rain on my cheeks outside shocked my warm body. My heart started faster and the taste of Arthur on my lips sunk in to realization. I touched my fingertips to them, smiling a little.

  “How could you?” Mike said, practically dragging me as he marched onward.

  “What? Drink his blood?”

  “Yes! How could you let yourself—?” His face contorted with disgust, his fingers tightening on my arm. “I’m so mad at you, Ara.”

  “Urgh. Get over it.” I whipped my arm from his grip. “I’m a Lilithian. I drink vampire blood. He’s a vampire.”

  “He’s a guy. You’re a girl. Doesn’t mean you can screw him.”

  I gasped loudly. “What the hell does sex have to do with anything?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Ara. We all saw the lust take hold.” He pointed to the training hall.