An Elegant Weapon

by Candace Blevins

  I’d heard others thank Bran for things and I tried to follow suit. “Thank you for the dress, Master Bran.” And thank you for the awesome buzz, but I didn’t say that part out loud.

  “Just Master. You haven’t earned the right to use my first name. How do you feel?”

  “I still hurt all over. I hope you never want to bite me like that again, Master.” I took a breath. “I’m still buzzing. Maybe more than buzzing.”

  “Endorphins from the pain, as well as the aftereffects of my venom. Unless I have a specific need to taste you in that state again, my intention is to save it for those times you’ve earned a punishment. Your insides will be raw, and would remain so for days if I weren’t about to heal you. When you think you can walk, please join me in the sitting area.”

  He stood and walked to one of the chairs, and motioned towards a chair on the other side of a small side table.

  I took a breath, let it out, and decided I could try. Marco helped me stand, and I concentrated on walking in the heels the way I’d been shown. My legs were shaky but I mostly pulled it off.

  “Much better,” said Bran. “Have a seat, please. What alcohol do you prefer?”

  I shook my head. “I’m clean. I’d rather not.”

  “There’s a reason, and you won’t have enough to get drunk. What agrees with you most? Rum? Tequila? Whiskey? Vodka? Something else?”

  I shrugged. “Tequila, I guess.”

  He lifted a wrist to his mouth while he reached for an empty glass on the side table. He bit his wrist and blood flowed into the glass. “My blood has healing properties. Drinking it won’t turn you into a vampire. In order to be turned, you’d need to drink it many days in a row and then be drained of your own blood.”

  He put the glass on the table and accepted a liquor bottle from Marco. He filled another glass with tequila, and nodded towards them. “Drink the blood, chase it with tequila.”

  “Is there salt?”

  Marco walked to a cabinet along the wall and brought a fancy, crystal grinder with pink salt.

  The blood was bitter and gross and disgusting. But Bran had bled for me and I had a feeling it’d be rude to take a sip and declare it revolting. I downed the glass, licked my salted hand, and downed the tequila while I held my spit-wet hand out to the side.

  Marco ground more salt onto my hand, and I stopped drinking long enough to lick the salt again before I drank some more.

  Several rounds of this, and the worst of the horrid taste was out of my mouth.

  “The taste will grow on you, I’m told.” Bran didn’t break eye contact as he raised his voice to say, “Guard.”

  The door opened and a muscled guard stepped inside. “Master.”

  “Please escort Miss Holly to her new cell. Explain the rules for the unit, and give them to her in writing as well.”

  “As you wish, Master.” He looked to me. “If you can come with me please, Miss Holly?”

  Well, that was new — since when did guards ask me to do something instead of giving gruff orders? He had me walk beside him, and he seemed a lot more relaxed than any of my previous guards.

  “You’ve earned your way into the wing the flock resides in, though you’re in a different hall. They aren’t jailed. They’re here of their own free will. You’ll still be locked in, but things are a lot more relaxed.”

  The first doors were normal looking wooden doors. No bars. Next came jail cells, but there were bedrooms inside — with real beds and real furniture. A recliner and a sofa, and a big wooden armoire.

  A cement wall separated the bedrooms, but no one seemed to be in any of the bedrooms around me.

  “This hall is watched electronically by guards in a room nearby. The cameras will record your activity, but a guard may not be watching you every second, as they were in your previous cells. However, security features will alert if there’s a reason they should pay attention.” He turned to the armoire and opened it. “Workout clothing as well as outfits so you can dress formally for dinner.” He closed the doors and motioned towards big red buttons on the walls. They seemed to be all over the place. “This cell is used for vampires who’ve just about gained complete control, and the buttons are for them to call for help if they think they’re about to lose it. You shouldn’t need to call for a guard, but if you do, pushing a button will bring them. Don’t use it unless it’s an emergency. You’ll find everything I’ve told you, and more, in the paperwork on your coffee table. The refrigerator has drinks and fruit. It will be replenished while you’re out of your cell. You can speak to Fluffy if you’d like something specific to keep on hand. You won’t get dinner this evening, but you shouldn’t need it after getting so much of Master Bran’s blood. Bruiser suggests you stretch and find your center before retiring for the day.”

  The next two days were hell. Marco worked with me for one session, Bruiser for the other. Bruiser didn’t fuck me anymore, though. I learned ten new phrases each day, from the same tutor but in a different language — Italian one day and German the next.

  Bruiser also started making me wear high heels during thirty minutes of my fight training each day.

  Marco had dinner with me both nights. He wore a tux, I wore a fancy dress, and servers in formal attire waited on us like royalty.

  There was nothing romantic about our dinner conversation though. He talked to me about fighting strategy, how to analyze an opponent, how to find their weakness before they’d injured you so badly you couldn’t take advantage, and how to shut out the rest of the world so you become the fight.

  “I’ve seen you do it. When Bruiser is especially rough with a punishment, you come back so ultra-focused there’s no way anything will get by you.”

  I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was almost like Bruiser’s next actions were in slow motion, so I had more time to act.

  “Remember how that feels,” said Marco. “Key into becoming the fighter. Pretend you have a volume knob on the rest of the world, so you can focus on your opponent and nothing else.”

  I awoke a bundle of nerves the next evening, but I pretended I was calm while I showered, French braided my hair, and worked the tail into a bun. Marco had been fine with my hair in a ponytail, but Bruiser had insisted it be in a bun — and had punished me when it came loose. This method seemed to hold the best so I used it for the fight.

  Finally, I slid into the solid white unitard Bran had given me before he’d retired at dawn, and I opened the makeup case he’d handed me.

  I’d looked through it before going to sleep and had been giddy with excitement. He’d bought the best name brands — stuff I’d never been able to afford but always lusted after when I went to the mall.

  A makeup artist was supposed to come show me appropriate usage though. Bran had told me I could put the foundation on, but nothing else.

  I looked up in shock at the little gay man who waltzed into my cell before I could get started.

  “Oh, you’re a beauty. Your Master wants you to look soft and fierce at the same time. It can be tough to pull off, but I can see why he wants it.”

  He put the makeup on me, but he explained everything as he went. I’d never understood the whole highlight and shading thing, but when he broke it down it was completely logical. He didn’t just tweeze my eyebrows, he trimmed around them, too — and they were perfect when he finished with them.

  And my eyeliner was a work of art. Not sharp, but soft and smoky.

  The deep red lip dye finished the look and I barely recognized myself.

  “More fierce than soft, but that’s because your hair is so severe, which can’t be helped. With your hair down you’ll be both.” He looked at his watch and back to me. “You don’t get breakfast. You drank the bottle in your refrigerator as instructed?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. The guard will take you up. Marco asked me to remind you to use your manners, even towards your opponent.”

  He turned and left, and a guard stepped into my doorway. “Miss Ho
lly? It’s time.”

  I was taken into a larger padded room with black mats instead of white. I spotted cameras in all four corners, as well as in the top center of all four walls. Bran and Marco were likely in another room watching the action from all angles.

  A woman I’d never seen before stood on a blue square on the other side of the room. She wore a baby blue unitard, and she was barefoot like me.

  I stepped onto my white square and looked at her. Hands at her side, weight evenly distributed. Lots of muscles. She was about my height and weight. I’d been told to fight her as if my life depended on it, and not to pull my punches or kicks.

  A chime sounded, and we bowed to each other. A ding echoed into the room, and she raced across the room to me, faster than human.

  Fear threatened to take over but I focused on her and moved by instinct. I managed to trip her as she struck me, and I turned and landed on her. I pushed my downward momentum into my fist, and pain exploded in my hand as it made contact with her face. Blood poured from her nose and upper lip, but she threw me into the air and away from her before I could do any further damage.

  I slammed to the mat, rolled, and bounced to my feet.

  She came off the mat like a cat. I filed that away and charged. We met in a flurry of fists and feet, and I grabbed her leg, knocked her off balance, and kicked hard as she went down.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out she was throwing me around but only occasionally hitting and kicking. Also, she didn’t appear to be hitting at full strength. She was holding back. It pissed me off and I started to challenge her to fight me for real, but I remembered Marco’s final message about using my manners.

  Bran had set this up. I needed to play it out by his rules.

  It took at least another five minutes for me to knock her to the ground again, but this time I was more focused and I gave her everything I had. Within seconds, I’d pinned her to the mat, my hands curled around her throat and my knee in her stomach.

  A door opened, and the next thing I knew I was in another room with a bunch of people, watching the girl I’d just beat turn into a freaking tiger.

  Marco had pulled me out so fast I hadn’t even noticed a blur around me.

  “How long since she’s had your blood?” I turned in shock at Abbott’s voice behind me.

  “Three days,” Bran answered, “and only enough to heal recent bruising. She had enhanced senses the next night, but she tells us they were gone when she awakened the following evening. What you saw was all her.”

  Abbott put his nose near my throat and inhaled. “You’re hurt but not injured?”

  “My right knee and ankle hurt. I don’t know if they’re injured. My fists and feet hurt.” I looked at Marco. “Any chance I can get some ice for my hands? Her face is harder than the bags.”

  “Let’s retire to a more comfortable setting,” said Bran.

  I shook my head and pointed into the room. “How is she’s a tiger? What else is there?”

  “She’s like a werewolf, but a tiger,” said Abbott. “You injured her throat and she had to shift to heal. Marco got you out before you could come in contact with her claws or teeth, as we don’t want you to turn into a tiger. Someone will explain shifters to you later, and everything you learn will fall under your oath about not sharing supernatural secrets. We have other things to discuss at the moment.”

  Marco motioned me through the door, and I lifted my chin and walked. We were on an upper level, so it didn’t take long to make it to Bran’s huge living room with the gigantic picture windows overlooking the lights in the valley.

  Bran nodded towards an armchair across from him, and I sat in it without comment.

  “Bran’s brought me in early because he’d like to make you an exceptional offer,” Abbott said as he took a seat, also across from me. “One he doesn’t make lightly. If you agree to it, you’ll become his tonight, with different terms than the ones I sent you here with.”

  “I’d like to offer you the chance to become vampire,” said Bran. “You’ll belong to me for fifty years, but not as a slave. Think of it as an indentured employee. You’ll be one of my guards. You’ll do my bidding. You’ll punish my enemies, possibly even kill for me, should the situation call for it. You’ll also be well paid, should you rise to the level I believe possible.”

  I was dumbstruck. I’d never considered the possibility.

  “I’d smell stuff all the time? And see and hear better? Be stronger?” I’d experienced better senses when he’d given me his blood. What would it be like to have those extra abilities all the time? I shook my head as the other parts hit me. “I’d crave human blood? Never die?”

  “You’ll live until someone kills you, which is different than being immortal,” said Abbott.

  “Bran’s offering this because he sees strength and brutality in you, and a talent for fighting,” said Marco. “He estimates you’ll need at least another three months of training before you’re ready, and we’ll have much to teach you as a human before you’re ready for the strength and responsibility of…” He shook his head. “I think you need six months to a year of intense training. Bran will ultimately be responsible for you though, so the final call on when will be up to him.”

  “I have to make up my mind now?”

  “No,” said Bran. “Give me a list of pros and cons. First things you think of, off the top of your head. Go.”

  It was an order, so I didn’t stop to think it through. “Pros first. Strength and smell are big. Sight too. I’m not sure if hearing is a con or pro — so much was coming in at once I thought I’d go crazy. Not aging and not being able to be easily killed are pros, and if the change will make me not want drugs it’ll be the best thing ever.” I paused. “Cons is harder. I mean, the drinking blood thing sounds gross now, but I’m assuming it won’t be once I’m craving it. I don’t know how I’d handle my family, but it’s possible I’ve pushed them away so far I’ll never really get them back anyway. I’ll miss the sun, I think, but it isn’t like I’ve been able to go to the beach a whole lot anyway.”

  No one said anything for several moments. I was tempted to chatter, but a few tutors had taught me — in rather painful ways — to be silent if I didn’t have something meaningful to say.

  “Anything else?” asked Abbott.

  “No, Sir.”

  Abbott looked to Bran with a raised eyebrow, and Bran smiled. “She’s coming along. I’m quite pleased with her progress.”

  “I understand why you don’t want her to see Spencer, but I kind of wish he could’ve seen her fight.” He shook his head and looked to me. “But I won’t tell him how you’re doing until you’ve either gained control of yourself as a vampire, or you’ve opted for another course and found success. I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

  “I’d love to see him again,” I told Abbott. “Spencer was kind to me.”

  “Sometimes, kindness can be a cruelty,” said Bran. “In this case, I believe you needed time to heal from the ravages of the drugs before you were ready for training. Your time with Spencer wasn’t for naught, but soldiers aren’t trained with kid gloves.”

  “What we need from you by tomorrow night,” said Abbott, “is a statement of whether you’d like to begin training to become a vampire. Bran has a contract for you to look over, and I’ve brought someone who’ll go over every line with you to be sure you understand what you’re agreeing to. You’ll have four hours with the attorney, and if you don’t finish, he’ll return tomorrow night. We won’t accept your answer until he’s been through the entire document with you. Bran will put aside time for you to ask questions tomorrow night, as well. I’ll return at three o’clock to answer any questions you may have for me and then hear your decision, and will release you from the final weeks of my promise to you so you can sign Bran’s contract, if you choose to do so.”

  “Marco, are her injuries all on the surface, or are any deep?” asked Bran.

  “Most are on the surface but the bone
s of her right hand have taken trauma.”

  “I’ll offer you my blood to drink then, so you can concentrate on the legal wording with no pain to distract you,” Bran told me.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Bran’s blood was just as disgusting, and he gave me more of it with less alcohol. Oddly enough, a few hours into my time with the attorney, it seemed the contract was easier to understand. The concepts came easier, and the wording of the rules made sense without the attorney having to break it down into simple English for me.

  7

  With my new status came an actual bedroom upstairs, with a window looking out over the valley. It was the fanciest room I’d ever slept in, and I loved it.

  Also, Bran had removed the collar and cuffs when I’d signed the contract. However, I still had to wear the weight in my girl-parts during my three mile run a few times a week — the mileage kept going up as I got into better condition, and the weight was up to two pounds. For some reason, I’d associated the weight inside while I ran with the collar, but Bran said it was muscle conditioning and it would continue.

  I’d thought my training would be fighting, languages, and manners, but now there was so much more Bran demanded I learn. Most shocking of all, I had to learn how to torture people, how to handle a whip, a crop, a flogger, and a rattan cane. I learned where nerves are close to the skin and easiest to traumatize. Bruiser taught me dozens of ways to make someone scream in pain within seconds — and without injuring them. Who knew there’d be a class I’d someday look forward to?

  I learned to observe a crowd and spot the predators and victims in a few seconds. I learned about all the various kinds of shapeshifters, and I was given enough blood on a regular basis so I could begin practicing how to use my nose to discern whether people were being truthful, were in a temper, and a zillion other possibilities.

  I learned how to be easy with humans so I didn’t break them, and how to handle shapeshifters so they couldn’t change.