Chapter Eleven TRAINING CAMP
From the Memoir of Glendennon Catch
Sovereign Jefferson Unit, Order of the Black Swan
My life and my journal have been taken over by my wife’s work. Since it’s all she thinks about and all she talks about, I can’t help but be drawn into both the process and the drama. As to the latter, after weeks of agonizing over partnership assignments, Rosie was finally satisfied that, right or wrong, she had the best list possible. That was the good news.
The bad news was that she saw me as her best resource for helping to make decisions. That was inarguably true, but her vacillation drove me insane. On the way to getting to the final list, I was alternately wanting to tear my hair from the roots or move to the marginally comfortable sofa in my office. I never would have imagined that she had such a streak of self-doubt that overlapped a wide ribbon of perfectionism. But I also never would have imagined that she would bite off a project of such enormity and take it so seriously.
One of the issues that caused extreme consternation, including tossing, turning, and shaking me in the middle of the night, saying, “Are you awake? Glen! Are you awake?” was the assignment of roommates.
Normally that would not be either a problem or a separate option. When doubling up was necessary, partners would also be roommates. Period. Done. End of story. But the fact that two of her hunters were female presented a unique wrinkle in Black Swan history.
In the end, she concluded that the potential risks and role confusion that could be caused by mix gender cohabitation was less important than the solidarity and camaraderie that togetherness promoted. She needed her hunters to bond with their partners emotionally in a way that required close proximity twenty-four hours a day.
I concurred. Devil take the outcome. ~~
First day of training camp.
Only one week behind Simon’s original, very optimistic, schedule, Rosie was ready for the first day of training.
Grieve had found an old gray stone structure that had once been a rambling abbey. It sat on the banks of a river in a secluded glen with ample grounds and privacy from all but overhead surveillance. Rosie fell in love with the place on sight. She stood just inside the tree line on the other side of the river and whispered, “Perfect,” to herself, even before she’d self-toured the inside. Since it was uninhabited, access wasn’t a problem.
It had everything she’d required in broad terms, but needed modification to be ideal. Fortunately for her, the man who could pull at purse strings whenever he wanted also wanted the project to be a big success.
Simon had seen to it that officials were rewarded financially in exchange for permission to modernize the building with electricity, up-to-date plumbing, and a state-of-the-art commercial kitchen.
It wasn’t hard to find contractors willing to drop what they were doing on the promise of earning twice as much for the same time period. As Simon said to Rosie, “This is not a case of money talking. It’s a case of money yelling.”
Rosie had ended up with sixteen hunters who didn’t laugh when she told them to call her Rosie. She decided somebody else could come up with an official title at some point. In the meantime she decided that, if she needed a title to command respect, she wasn’t the right person for the job.
Sixteen was more than her original goal, but it wasn’t difficult to persuade Simon to keep them all on the payroll because, when it came to talent, more was more. After all, attrition is a fact of life.
The total count of personnel, including hunters was thirty-two if Ram’s and Elora’s nanny was counted as one of them. Two cooks. Four food service crew. Three cleaning staff. Four instructors including, Rosie, Ram, Elora, and Mad Dog Malone, an ancient and wizened knight emeritus who’d been highly recommended by Glen.
Grieve had come along, making the point that he could best assist in close proximity. He’d wasted no time setting up a command center in a room that had apparently been a chapel at one point. Rosie suspected that he insisted on inserting himself more to supervise than assist, but she wasn’t going to confront him about it. Because, truth be known, she valued his advice.
Rosie had to laugh that Grieve had brought one of the office staff. He didn’t see the humor in calling her the assistant to the assistant.
Finngarick arrived at the Black Swan hangar in Edinburgh with his duffel and a pinpoint of light in his heart that hadn’t been there for a long, long time. He didn’t know if it was hope for something better or sheer relief that he’d been freed from the floater roster. He just knew that his feeling of numbness was flirting with giving way to the return of aliveness. His senses had awakened and, though he tried to fight against it, believing that cynicism is the only smart approach to life, he was looking forward to seeing what happened next. A dangerous way to live because there were so many ways life could do a surprise smack down.
He didn’t have long to wait at Edinburgh before the whister that would take him to Hunter’s Abbey was ready to go. He didn’t recognize the other passengers, but introduced himself and exchanged cordial hellos. There wasn’t time for much more because it was only a fifteen minute flight.
When Hunter’s Abbey came into view, he felt a strange sensation that he couldn’t place. He didn’t know what anxiety felt like, but he was afraid he might be experiencing exactly that.
Grieve and his assistant greeted the passengers and directed them into the cathedral-ceilinged great room that had been outfitted as the Mess with one long table capable of seating thirty-two. Finngarick and the three others who’d just arrived were directed toward a table where they were to check in.
He was feeling more and more agitated with every moment that passed. His eyes darted here and there. His mouth went dry. He was wondering if he might be coming down with something.
“Welcome, Sir Finngarick,” Grieve’s assistant said, giving him a smile that let him know she’d be available for more than directions to his room. “Orientation starts in forty-five minutes. That gives you just enough time to find your quarters and perhaps meet your roommate, who’s also your partner. Let’s see. It’s Sheridan O’Malley, who I believe has already checked in.”
“Sheridan. Is he Irish?”
“She is. Yes.”
“She?” Finngarick thought back to his interview and remembered he’d promised to work for or with females.
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No. No’ at all.”
“You’re quartered in the north wing. Second floor at the end of the hall on the left. We’ve numbered the doors. That’s 211.”
“Alright,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She winked and pointed toward a staircase at the end of the cavernous room. “Would you like someone to show you?”
“No. I’m good on my own.”
He was feeling lightheaded and a little short of breath as he climbed the stairs. By the time he’d reached the end of the hall and located 211, he was afraid he might be having a heart attack.
And in a sense, he was.
He knocked on the open door and stepped inside. When Sheridan turned around, he lost what little breath he still had in his lungs and almost blacked out. While her reaction was not quite as dramatic, her eyes opened wide as her mouth sucked in air and formed an, “Oh.”
It was plain to see that she felt it, too.
Torn literally sat down on the floor at the threshold of the room because his legs simply wouldn’t hold his weight up. When the initial shock of feeling close proximity with his mate began to subside, he laughed out loud.
After a few minutes of experiencing pure joy for the first time in his life, his laughter turned into a salacious grin. “So, we’re makin’ redheaded babies then.”
That was the first thing he said to his new partner. The instant the words left his mouth he was hit with the second traumatic revelation of the day. Parenting could be in his future. At some point. And what did he know about being some poor elfling’s da? Gods knew that few had seen worse role modeling.
But he didn’t have long to worry about the prospect of fatherhood because the first thing she said in return was, “I’m no’ makin’ babies of any sort, redheaded or otherwise. And if you plan to be my partner, you’d best direct your thoughts elsewhere.”
Finngarick’s confusion was profound. He shook his whole head, sobered instantly, and sat up straight, a frown forming at his brow. “What do you mean? We’re mates.”
“Maybe so, but I have other plans.”
“Other plans?” They stared at each other for several beats before he said, “Are you mad?”
He was also thinking that it would be just his luck to find his mate, a development he’d given up on, only to have her be loose in the brains.
“No. I’m no’. I’m takin’ this bed. You can have the one over there.” She pointed to the bed across the room under the window.
Torn looked in the direction of the other bed, trying to process the developments. Within a couple of minutes he’d found his mate and learned she wanted nothing to do with him.
“Great Paddy.” He threw his duffel halfway across the room so that it landed on the bed.
His initial reaction of anger was no surprise. For his whole life that had been his default response to anything that seemed the slightest contrary to his preference. But as he walked toward the available bed, his back to Sheridan O’Malley, his mouth began to lift into a small smile.
He asked himself two questions.
Had he ever shrunk from a challenge? The answer was no.
And was she worth the challenge? The answer was definitely yes.
Not only was his mate everything he could imagine an ideal female to be, but she was his Paddy-loving partner. As he began to plot he realized that the future was fertile with potential. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to even think it at first, but as he unpacked his things, the word ‘happiness’ took root and refused to be pushed aside.
Sheridan O’Malley might not be ready to admit it, but someday she was going to be happily mated. To him. She just needed time to get used to the idea. And him.
Out of the corner of his eye Torn saw her start to leave the room. “Will you no’ wait for me? We may as well begin learnin’ about each other if we’re to be partners.”
She hesitated at the door, back to him, fingers of both hands poised lightly on the door jamb. She appeared to be grappilng with the invitation, but at length said, “Sure. I’ll go down with ye.”
He nodded, but waited until he’d turned back to unpacking to allow his smile to form. “Do you want to be called Sheridan?”
“Well, aye. What else would I be called?”
He shrugged. “Most of the hunters I know go by somethin’ shorter because three syllables is a lot to utter when a life or death warnin’ is imminent.”
Her brows came down as she thought about that. “My name is my name.”
“I like Sher.”
“Sher?” She wouldn’t think of giving him the satisfaction of saying so, but she kind of liked it, too. Especially the way he said it. “’Tis really necessary?”
He shook his head. “No. No’ if you hate it.”
She liked that he was giving her a choice. “I do no’ hate it. Exactly.”
“How about a trial?”
She crossed her arms. “I do no’ recall you sharin’ your name.”
“Sir Torrent Finngarick.”
She thought he included the title to lord it over her, but truthfully he was hoping to impress. She sneered. “You want me to call you Sir?”
“O’ course no’. I want you to call me Torn.”
She blinked rapidly, liking the sound of that. Especially the way he said it.
“And I suppose the Sir means you used to be what? A vampire slayer?”
“Aye. Up until this mornin’.”
“Hmmm. I’m sure you’ve had an interestin’ life.”
He laughed out loud. “That’s one way to describe it, I suppose. And where are you from?”
“A village in the New Forest. Black on Tarry.”
Being Irish, Torn knew about Black on Tarry. Everybody in the country had become familiar with it because there was a time when the prince would go missing due to running away.
“I know of it. What was it like?”
She stopped to give that thought. Only a month before she’d had nothing to compare it to. Now she’d seen more of the world. “Magical.”
He nodded. “I’d like to hear more about it. And how you came to work for Black Swan. And why you agreed to be a demon chaser.” Torn moved toward the door.
“You seem a nosy sort, Sir Finngarick.”
He laughed. “Call me Torn. We’re partners. That means eventually I’ll know everythin’ there is to know about you. I’m just gettin’ started. You know how to use that?” He nodded toward the bow leaning against the foot of her bed.
“Aye.” It was one word, but Torn could tell by the way she said it that the question had triggered a pride response. She walked out the door ahead of him and gracefully led the way down the hall, giving him a delicious view of her swaying hips and long swinging hair, which he already knew would be the color of fire in bright sunlight.
Finngarick had yet to see her smile and filed that away as something on his must see list.
After they descended the gray stone steps that led down to the main rooms, they saw that Grieve and his flirty assistant were directing everyone to their assigned places. As Finngarick was surveying the room and scanning the people, he saw that Sheridan was already seated.
Wondering how she’d moved from his side to a place at the table at the other end of the great room, his head whipped around in disbelief. But she wasn’t seated at the table, she was still by his side.
Sheridan laughed. In spite of his discombobulation, Finngarick thought it was the most marvelous thing he’d ever seen.
“She’s my sister.”
It took a second for that to register. “You’re… twins.” She nodded. “Identical twins.”
“Same egg. Same sperm. We’re no’ identical. We just look the same.”
“Right.” He cocked his head and soaked that in. He’d just learned that she wanted to be seen as an individual. He filed that away in his newly begun cataloguing of all things Sheridan O’Malley.
Rosie sat at one end of the long table. She designated the chair at the other end as Sir Hawking’s in honor of his place in the Hall of Heroes. Eight of the hunters sat at Rosie’s end, four to her left, four to her right. Eight sat at the other end, but Elora and Mad Dog sat to Ram’s right and left with the other eight hunters on the other side of them.
Grieve directed them to Ram’s end. When Torn looked and saw that the seats left were either beside Elora on one side or Mad Dog on the other, his step faltered. Even though the motion was practically imperceptible, Sheridan picked up on it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He looked down at her and shook his head slightly. “Nothin’. Just the uneven stones.”
The floor was stone-covered. And it was very old and uneven. Still, Sheridan didn’t think it would trip up an elf as obviously athletic as Finngarick.
When they approached the table, Torn told Sheridan, “You can sit here,” pointing at the chair next to Elora. “I’ll go ‘round.”
Hearing his voice, Elora looked over her shoulder. Sheridan saw that something passed over the face of the stunning woman with the strange hair when she saw Finngarick.
He straightened his shoulders and said, “Lady Laiken. This is my partner, Sheridan O’Malley.”
When Elora’s gaze moved to Sheridan, her face broke into a big welcoming grin. “Hey. Sit here.” She pushed out the chair. “My niece told me about you. I’ve been to Black on Tarry many, many times, but we’ve never met.”
As Sheridan was sitting, she said, “We were no’ often in the town.”
Elora nodded. “That’s what I heard.”
“You said you heard about us from your niece?”
Elora wiggled her head. It was a mannerism she’d unconsciously picked up from Litha after years of seeing it. “Niece by friendship. Her dad was one of my teammates before I became semi-retired and her mom is my best friend.”
“Oh. So who is your niece?”
Elora laughed. “The cute kid down at the other end of the table. Elora Rose Storm, also known as Rosie.”
Sheridan’s head turned to the right as if to verify that Rosie was, in fact, still sitting at the other end of the long table. “Oh.”
“You have to forgive me for bragging about the fact that she’s named after me. ‘Cause I’m pretty proud of her.” Elora leaned in. “Don’t be intimidated by the star power in this room. You have star power of your own.”
That got Sheridan’s attention. “I do?”
“Well, yeah,” Elora said. “You have the distinction of being the first women to ever be recruited as Black Swan hunters in the history of The Order.”
“But you…”
“Served, but only after I elbowed my way in. Believe me, it’s not like I was invited in.” She smiled brightly. “Like you were. You’ve struck a fine blow for women everywhere.”
“I had no’ thought about that.”
“Maybe not. But I have. This is a very big deal for me.”
“For you?” Sheridan looked surprised.
“Absolutely. I have twin daughters.” Elora pointed to two girls playing with large dogs that looked suspiciously like the Dolmen wolves of the New Forest.
“Those dogs…” Sheridan began.
“Yeah. They probably look familiar to you. They’re half New Forest wolf.”
“Wow.”
Elora laughed. “Well, you’re officially baptized into this world. Wow is just the best word, isn’t it?”
Sheridan nodded. “Aye. Very useful.”
“The kid across the table who’s staring at you like you’re the first girl he’s ever seen is my son, the king of Ireland.” Sheridan looked across the table, unsure of what to say. “Don’t even think about calling him something like ‘Your Highness’. Just say hi.”
“Hi,” she said.
Helm, who was thirteen at the moment, grinned. Like most people, Sheridan couldn’t help but be struck by his looks. He had his mother’s turquoise eyes, his father’s blonde hair and prominent ears indicating he was all male. His sisters had plaited his hair close to his scalp, leaving the length free from his nape to his shoulder blades.
“’Lo gorgeous,” Helm said.
Elora rolled her eyes while Sheridan looked like a deer in headlights. “Knock it off, Helm.”
His eyes slid lazily to his mother then right back to Sheridan. He stared at her all the way through dinner as he carried on a conversation with Mad Dog on his right and Finngarick on his left.
By the time dinner was over, Torn had decided he liked the kid. Down to earth. Smart, but funny. Not at all what he would have expected the boy king to be. It was odd that the future king of Ireland had an American accent, but that was where he’d spent most of his time.
Just before Rosie stood to begin Orientation, Helm said to Finngarick. “I do know who you are. You’re the idiot who ignored my mother and got trapped in the basement with his idiot friends and real vampire.”
Finngarick took in a big breath, trying to decide how to respond. “’Twas a mistake. A very big one. ‘Twas also the only time in my life I ever apologized. I made an apology both public and private. No’ much more to be done.” He looked at Helm and locked eyes. Within a couple of seconds, Finngarick found himself impressed. Most thirteen-year-olds would look away from the challenge of his stare.
But not Helm.
“Just so you know,” Helm continued pleasantly. “Nobody gets to ignore my mother but me.”
“Noted,” Finngarick said, matching Helm’s pleasant tone. “Just so you know, no’ even my future king gets to call a Black Swan knight an idiot while sitting at a Black Swan table.”
The two stared at each other for a few beats and then both broke into laughter. It seemed they understood each other.
Watching the exchange from across the table, Elora couldn’t help but wonder if the two were getting along because Finngarick was the same age as Helm emotionally. She decided to forego an eye roll because Rosie was requesting everyone’s attention.
“While they’re serving coffee and dessert which, by the way, is fruit and cheese,” She expected the grumbling that followed. “this is training camp. I want to see what my hunters can do when they’re not being slowed down by sugar and fat.
“You already know who I am. So I’m going to start by introducing our special guests.”
One by one, without notes, she pointed out people and recited bio highlights. She began with the instructors and made Ram blush, which wasn’t usually easy to do. Next was Monq. “He’ll only be staying for twenty-four hours. Just long enough to make sure we all understand the tools he’s designed to make this project possible.”
Then Deliverance. “In many ways,” she said, “my grandfather has made this undertaking possible. We wouldn’t have any idea what would work and what wouldn’t if not for his help. I’d also like to personally thank him for wearing a shirt and shoes tonight.”
Everybody laughed.
Finngarick watched as the demon’s gaze drifted up and down the table before landing on Sheridan. Torn almost broke his fork in half when he read the lust behind the demon’s gratuitous smile.
He realized he must be feeling the emotion people called jealousy. He didn’t like it. It made him antsy and angry and damn uncomfortable. But he also liked it better than what he’d been feeling for the past decade, which was nothing.
Torn looked across the table at Sheridan who was giving him a questioning look. And he wondered if the famed mate connection was starting to kick in. Would he start to feel her emotions? Practically read her thoughts?
He gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head slightly in a gesture meaning, “Everything’s fine.”
Next Rosie introduced Grieve. “I believe you’ve already met my assistant, who’s actually the undercover boss.” Grieve flushed at the attention and the compliment. “If you want to know something, you’re most likely to get an answer if you start with him.”
She quickly mentioned Grieve’s assistant and then focused on the hunters one by one.
“Only two of the hunters are new to Black Swan. The O’Malley twins. They were recruited specifically for D.I.T. and I want to acknowledge Sir Hawking for bringing them to my attention. They have some special skills that are going to be particularly useful, as you’ll all learn in the coming days. If you’re having trouble telling them apart, well… that’s your problem.” Everybody laughed. “But there’s a really good chance that if you see one of them with Deck Tikkanen, it’s Shivaun. If you see one with Torn Finngarick, it’s Sheridan.
“So here’s what’s going to happen. Tonight after dinner, I hope you’ll take advantage of the media and gathering rooms. Relax, settle in, start getting to know each other then get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning we’re having breakfast at six. Then Monq is going to tell us about the technology he and his team have developed for D.I.T. and show us how to use it.
“The rest of the morning will be spent in traditional training exercises. Loose workout wear is your uniform this week. If you need stuff, tell Grieve. He can have it here same day whister delivery. This is northern Scotia. You know what that means. If you stay outside for longer than twenty minutes, you’re probably gonna get damp. So dress accordingly.
“Lunch. Two hours of partner time to be used for getting to know your other half. That may seem frivolous, but I’m told by the ex-vampire slayers that it’s worth the time and trouble. Four o’clock. Training on D.I.T. equipment. Dinner at seven.
“Every night after dinner we’ll have a guest from Black Swan to talk about some of the extra-humans you may encounter. What we know about them. What we don’t know. That sort of thing. We don’t have the complete list yet, but Heaven McBride Baka will be here one night to talk about encountering demons in particular. The Director’s wife, Sorcha Tvelgar, will give an overview of the history of problems we suspect have been caused by uninvited visitors. Someone from communications will give some useful tips on diplomacy.
“I’ll try to prepare you, as best I can, for what you may encounter when you step out of your world. And I’ll be open to questions.
“Grieve will post the actual schedule which is more detailed and more time-specific. I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but attendance is not optional.
“As the week goes on, you’re going to learn how to travel the passes.” She saw the hunters exchange looks. “That’s right. It’s an adventure like no other. A real A ticket ride. Like most adventures it will come with some thrills. And like most adventures, it comes with risks. How dangerous will it be?
“Honestly, I can’t say. Dr. Monq and his team are working hard to make sure you have every advantage we can give you, and they’ll be continuing to tweak and refine as we go. We can mitigate the dangers. But we can’t eliminate the dangers.”
“Great Paddy. I’m in. Where do I sign up?” Ram said loudly from the other end of the room. Finn caught Helm looking away with a surly teenage smirk. He supposed daddy issues came with all kinds of packages. Finngarick’s dad was a ne’er-do-well drunk that brought shame on himself and his son. Helm’s dad was a larger-than-life legendary figure casting a shadow that might seem insurmountably overpowering to an adolescent son. Even an adolescent son who’d be king, not just in name, but in fact someday. If he wanted it.
Elora said, “Ignore that. The most dangerous thing he’s doing from now on is breaking up fights between the twins.”
There was laughter around the table, but it wasn’t raucous. It was reserved. No doubt they were all considering that they were embarking on an adventure that would show them wondrous things, but could also result in an untimely youthful demise.
Rosie continued. “We’re going to be pioneers. Part of what that means is that we’re going to be figuring this out as we go along. There’s so much we can’t know or account for until after we’re up past our waders. We don’t even know enough to identify what the problems will be. I do know that it takes a special kind of personality to rush headlong into the unknown.
“Being here tonight means you’ve already heard this, considered it, and made your decision. We’re founding a new Black Swan division. Looking around, I feel proud to be in your company. At the end of the week, if you’re as ready as I believe you’ll be, we’ll begin assigning missions. When you’re not away, you’ll live here.
“So this is not only an orientation. It’s a dedication. We own this place. It’s ours and we’ve renamed it Hunter’s Abbey. When you’re not on leave, this is home.”
She raised her wine glass. “A toast to the first hunters of D.I.T.” Everybody stood and raised their glasses. “My father taught me something we must all keep in mind. It happens to be the underlying reason for the existence of D.I.T.” She paused. Then smiled. “There’s no place like home.”
All clinked glasses and repeated, “There’s no place like home,” before drinking.
After dinner Sheridan introduced her sister, whom Torn thought was incredibly plain and uninteresting compared to his mate. Shivaun introduced them to her new partner, Sir Declan Tikkenen.
At ten o’clock Grieve made the rounds of the ground floor rooms looking at his pocket watch and mentioning the time. People laughed, but excused themselves to retire nonetheless.
At length Torn had drifted to sleep in his bed by the window even though the beams of the full moon had shown on him like a spotlight. He woke feeling agitated. His elf ears were picking up the rustle of Sheridan’s tossing, turning, and sighing. Finally he sat up.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
She turned in bed, looked across the room then also sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
He thought she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually she said, “I’ve ne’er been alone before.”
“You’re no’ alone, Sher. I’m right here.” As soon as he’d said it, he realized what she meant. “Have you ne’er been apart from Shivaun?”
She said nothing, but his eyes were well enough adjusted to the dim light to tell that she shook her head. He grabbed the blanket folded at the foot of his bed as he stood up. He crossed the room wearing nothing but drawstring pajama bottoms, sat down on the side of Sheridan’s bed and put the blanket around her shoulders. His thigh was warm where it touched hers and, normally, that would have meant maneuvering her into a sexual situation. But oddly, he found that his principal interest was in giving comfort.
“Tell me what ‘twas like growin’ up in Black on Tarry.”
He waited patiently, content to sit quietly and breathe in her scent, which made his nostrils tingle like nearness to jasmine in full bloom.
“Well,” she said, “until a short while ago, I did no’ think it was remarkable. So far as I knew, ‘twas how the world was everywhere. Now I know ‘tis so very different.”
He listened as she talked about the villagers, their way of life, the animals and wild beauty of the New Forest and also about the constant companionship of her sister.
When she grew quiet, he said, “Why did you come on with D.I.T.?”
She sighed. “Shivaun and I. We always thought we had a destiny.” She laughed in a self-deprecating way. “I know it sounds silly. We thought we were goin’ to be great warriors. Like in storybooks. Heroes.”
“’Tis no’ so silly now,” Finngarick said. “’Tis e’en likely.”
“You think so?”
“Aye.”
“We made a vow to each other that we would no’ mate. We’d stay true to our, um, fate.”
Though not what he wanted to hear, that certainly cleared up the mystery of her reluctance to accept the pairing. Finngarick wasn’t entirely sure that it was even possible to refuse a mating. Sooner or later desire would overcome even the most obstinate elf.
“Sher,” he began softly, “a child’s promise is no’ a vow. Only a person of accountable age can make an oath that is bindin’.”
“O’ course that’s what you’d think. And maybe ‘twould be true if I was no’ a twin. But what my sister and I promise each other, at any age… ‘tis sacred.”
“I will no’ press you to change your mind tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. But children have no understandin’ of the call of matin’. ‘Tis an instinct that dwarfs all others eventually. Or so I’ve heard. There may come a time when it can no’ be denied.” She didn’t respond, but he could tell she was turning that over in her mind. “Do ye think ye can sleep now?”
“Aye. Thank you for… well…”
“O’ course. That’s what partners are for.”
He felt more than saw her smile at that.
When he’d climbed back in his own bed, turned toward the windows, and closed his eyes, he heard her say, “Torn?”
“Aye?” He turned slightly so that he could look over his shoulder.
“I do find you handsome enough.”
He’d been told hundreds of times by the most beautiful women in the world that he was a walking fantasy. But all those compliments together didn’t mean nearly as much as the simple unadorned statement from his mate.
“Thank you, Sher. I find you desirable beyond compare and can no’ believe my good fortune that fate has seen fit to choose you for me.”
Though she said nothing else, he knew she was repeating his words in her mind. And that was good enough. For now.
Rosie gave everybody half an hour for breakfast before Grieve directed the hunters to convene in a room that had been set up for lecture purposes and was just big enough to hold Rosie, hunters, and the instructors.
Monq had spent the night in one of the two rooms that had been set aside for guests and would be heading back to Jefferson Unit right after his demonstration. He’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t like travel and that this was a one-time concession.
“This was a multifaceted project,” Monq began, “with new and diverse issues. Our first obstacle was figuring out how to artificially enable Loti Dimension natives to travel the passes. We began with samples of elemental blood and were able to develop a long-lasting synthetic that works just as well, with no side effects that we know of to date.”
“One shot of this,” he held up a syringe with clear liquid inside, “will do for a year. We think. There might be slight variables from one person to the next, but that’s a rule of thumb.”
Finngarick watched as some of the hunters exchanged looks. One of them raised a hand and Monq acknowledged him.
“When you say there’s possible individual variance, are you saying that we could be away when we find out we needed a shot a day, or an hour, sooner?”
“We’re not taking that kind of chance with our assets. No. After eleven months or so, we’ll test you for levels of the serum before you set foot outside Loti,” Monq said. “The serum not only enables you to survive in the passes, but in other dimensions as well. If you should happen into a dimension where there’s another person with your life signature, basically an identical copy of yourself biologically designed to live in that world, you won’t be snuffed out. Anybody else have a question?”
When there were no other questions, he went on. “Our biggest problem is trying to outfit you to mimic the abilities and characteristics of elementals. They can travel the passes. When they do, they know where they are, where they’re going, and how to get back. You don’t have that sort of built in sense of direction. We’re compensating for that by issuing each one of you a bot that will act like a compass.” He held up a leather-like cord that formed a necklace for a pendant-style bot. “So long as you’re in possession of your compass, you’ll always be able to find your way home.” He smiled. “As the saying goes, you may indeed learn firsthand that there’s no place like home.
“Now that we’ve talked about the ways that will enable you to move around, we need to address defense. Obviously none of you would stand a chance against an elemental in a fair fight. So we have had to find ways to give you an artificial advantage.”
Monq paused as Rosie, who’d been standing off to the side, came to stand in front of the group. “Our mission is not to annihilate elementals. It’s to identify those who are threatening to Loti and exile them. In the interest of that primary goal, our go-to position is diplomacy. We may often be able to reach an understanding with transients, but not if we can’t get them to stop long enough to talk. We’re proceeding on the assumption that most will not be interested in taking time out for a chat with you. So how do we accomplish that?”
Rosie stepped off to the side and gave the floor to Monq again.
He picked up something resembling a pistol. “This looks like a gun, but it isn’t. We used the design simply because it fits the hand, has a trigger, and suits the purpose, which is to cast a net that will temporarily immobilize, but not harm in any way. With considerable trouble,” he looked pointedly at Rosie, “we matched the frequency to brain waves and fine-tuned so that motor activity is disabled, but not speech. When you aim and pull the trigger,” Monq turned his back to give an exhibition, “the subject will be covered with blue light in a grid pattern that resembles a net.” A blue light grid shone on the wall. “When you wish to release, just pull back on the hammer.” He did and the light fell away.
Rosie again came to stand in front of Monq’s table of tools.
“I know you’re all wondering what we’re going to say to our light captive when we have him or her paralyzed. We’re going to say, ‘Here are your choices. You can agree to stay away from Loti Dimension. Or you can accept a tag that will identify you and your whereabouts when you’re in Loti. The tags are permanent and can’t be removed. Which will it be?
“Yes. There are elementals who will believe they can get around the new rules. That might work in the short run, but frontier days are over. We’re going to begin cataloguing the visitors. There’s also going to be a tracking center at Edinburgh that will let us know, at any given minute, where non-humans are.
“If someone has promised to stay away and doesn’t, then they’ll be issued a tag whether they want it or not.” Finngarick happened to look over his shoulder and see Ram give Elora a look with raised eyebrows. “I know the question is hanging in the air. How are you ‘issuing’ a tag?
“Combustibles can’t be used in the passes. At all. It creates a fire in the hole effect beyond what you might imagine, endangering entire worlds and species. So we have to accomplish our goals quietly, with workarounds. Our workarounds are named O’Malley.”
Everybody turned and looked at the twins, who seemed more surprised than anyone to be named.
Rosie held up an arrow. “These arrows have been outfitted with a microscopic tag. Don’t worry. You can’t hurt an elemental with an arrow. Most would just laugh, pull it out, and fling it back in your direction. But the tag will implant itself and refuse to be extracted or dislodged without serious damage.
“Depending on the situation, the O’Malleys may be deployed separately with partners or as a team of four with their partners.” Finngarick looked over at Sheridan, who was sitting next to him, and smiled. “In extreme cases, and we expect this to be rare, executions may be inevitable. Dr. Monq has developed a poison that will cause demon tissue to wither and disappear within seconds. He’s named it quicksilver.
“It’s harmless to you, but deadly to demons. These daggers,” Rosie held up a dagger, “have been coated in quicksilver. You vampire hunters will notice that they’ve been designed to be the same size and weight as stakes.” A murmur went through the room. “Again, this is last resort.
“First and foremost we’re a peacekeeping outfit. We’re diplomats first. We plan to keep tabs on tourists and make sure they’re not causing trouble. These tools are not a license to kill. Is that clear?” Again there was a murmur. “Questions?”
There were none.
“Okay. Your instructors are going to spend the next few days getting you into top physical condition. Since your bodies weren’t designed for traveling in the passes, you need to be at your best to withstand the stress.
“By the end of the week, we’re going to start putting toes in the water. I’ll take one team at a time for a short stroll and we’ll start working up to more.” She looked around the room. “Let’s get outside and do some strength and endurance assessments.”
Conversation broke out immediately as people stood to go. Torn was wearing dark sweatpants and a charcoal gray tee that read, I’m late because I didn’t want to come, in white letters. “What do you think?” he asked Sheridan.
“I, em, had no’ expected to be named. Or to have a special job.”
Torn smiled wide. “I’m honored to have a partner who’s a specialist.”
“Why do ye think they put us together?”
He shrugged. “Fate.” His eyes made their way down her body as he smiled. She was wearing fashionable workout clothes that Lacey had helped her pick out. A persimmon color racerback tank with matching hoodie that did marvelous things for her coloring, and charcoal leggings with persimmon seam accents. Her muscle tone was near perfection, but the muscle was covered with a layer of soft and feminine-looking curves that made Torn’s mouth water.
“Hmmm.”
There was a flat grassy area behind the abbey, a little less than two acres, that had been converted to track and field. There were various equipment stations inside and outside the track and a sparring ‘ring’.
Elora walked up to Torn and Sheridan. “Go play with the boys for a while, Finngarick,” she said. “I’m going to work with the O’Malleys.”
Torn gave Sheridan a look that said, “I don’t want to go and will you be okay without me?”
Somehow she understood the unspoken feelings. It was a new experience, the mate connection beginning to take hold, and she was realizing that it was going to be harder to hold at arm’s length than she expected. Perhaps Finngarick was right. How could they have understood about mate callings as children?
She nodded to reassure him and said, “I’ll be right here.”
When he was gone, Elora said, “You two seem to have gotten close quickly.”
When Sheridan’s coloring went instantly red, Elora’s mouth formed a silent, “Oh.” She took in a breath. “What are the odds?” Then she laughed out loud. “Well, maybe they’re better than you think. Two out of the first three women hunters have been partnered with mates. How about that?” She shook her head. “Let’s go fetch your sister.”
Sheridan stopped Elora by putting her hand on Elora’s forearm. “Do no’ say anythin’ to her.”
Elora looked confused. “About what?”
“About,” she looked in Finngarick’s direction, “Finngarick.”
Elora’s eyes drifted toward Torn then back to Sheridan. “Why not?”
“’Tis… ‘em… complicated.”
Elora crossed her arms over her chest. “Look. Figuring out how to protect Loti from a criminal element of elementals is complicated enough without personal stuff. What’s going on?”
“My sister… We took a vow when we were little that we would no’ mate.”
Elora stared for a few beats before laughing. “Sheridan. I won’t say anything about this right now. But you’re going to have to tell her. Trust me, this isn’t something you can keep secret.”
Sheridan took in a deep breath. “I know.” She said it so quietly it was almost a whisper. “She’s no’ goin’ to like it.”
“She doesn’t have to. It’s your life.”
The idea of being totally separate, an individual, was as new to Sheridan as was the world outside Black on Tarry. Add to that the growing desire to reach out and run her finger over the outer edge of Torn’s ear. Or move her chair a little closer to his in the classroom. Or cross their shared room and snuggle into his back as he slept, breathing in his beguiling scent of musk and early morning. It was all enough to keep her feeling entirely off balance.
Elora and Sheridan walked over to Shivaun together. Shivaun was wearing the same outfit, but with gold accents. Elora appreciated being able to tell them apart with clothing signals if nothing else.
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 knew 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.”
Torn felt a tear slide out of the eye closest to his pillow. At first he wasn’t sure what it was because he didn’t remember having ever cried even as a child. He put his fingers to the wetness and looked at them as if he wasn’t sure what he’d see.
“The Lady Laiken said you’re special.” His eyes jerked back to Sheridan’s on hearing that. “She said you’re one of only three knights in the history of The Order who is no’ a second son. I do no’ really understand why that’s important, but she was convinced ‘tis a, em, big deal. So I know it must be.”
Beginning with the father who acted like he’d wished his son had never been born, Finngarick had hardened his heart to everything put in his path. Shunning. Fighting for food. Literally. Vampire. The worst that Loti had to offer. Being a transient slayer, never in one place long enough to make a friend. But the beautiful feral archer lying a few feet across the room, staring at him like he had worth, completely undid him.
He’d expected her to be ashamed of having been paired with someone with his reputation. But if his ears weren’t deceiving him, it sounded like she’d digested all he’d said and decided she was proud of him.
He was trying to work out how he was going to stop himself from crossing the room when she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood in one fluid motion. Silently, on bare feet, she crossed the old wood plank floor and stood next to his bed. Torn rolled to his back and waited, breathlessly, to see what she’d do next.
For what seemed like a long time she hesitated, as if she couldn’t remember why she was there. He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her down on top of him, capturing her lips in a kiss that sealed the mate bond, instantly filling both of them with a feeling of coming home for the first time. Their hearts overflowed with the warmth that accompanied knowing they were each half of a whole.
He took her face between his hands and deepened the kiss. He felt the moment when she opened to him completely; body, heart, mind, and soul. He twisted and rolled them over so that he was on top before growling, “Sher. Mine.”
As he dove in for another euphoric taste of her kisses, his right hand wandered down the side of her body and back up, cupping where the soft long-sleeved tee hid her breast. Just as she moaned encouragement and arched her back, there came a banging on the door.
Finngarick pulled away from Sheridan and glared at the door with fire in his eyes.
He shouted, “You’d better be comin’ to tell me we’re at war with fae again and under evacuation orders!”
Sheridan nudged him aside and moved toward the door, straightening her clothes as she went. Finngarick sat up on the side of the bed. Fuming.
She opened the door to find her sister and her sister’s new partner standing on the other side. Shivaun opened her mouth to say something, but then narrowed her eyes on her sister, taking in the heightened color in her cheeks and the half tucked state of her tee.
Shivaun took a breath and said, “Since we did no’ have time to practice with bows, I thought we might go out now.” She looked around Sheridan to see Finngarick sitting on the side of the bed glaring at her. “If you’re no’ busy.”
“No. We’re… em, I’m no’ busy. ‘Tis a good idea.” She nodded at Shivaun’s partner, Deck Tikkanen, who responded with a nod and a good-natured smile. Turning back to Torn, she said, “Want to come?”
He smirked, thinking of at least a dozen ways he’d like to answer that question. “Oh, aye.” He nodded with one eyebrow raised. “I’d very much like to come.”
With her back to her sister, Sher shot him a look that could kill. He just smiled as he stood and began ambling toward the door.
“Deck,” he said in passing as he strolled into the hallway.
“That was some match this morning,” Deck said as they began walking toward the stairs, ahead of the twins. “So how does it feel being able to say you put the legend on the mat?”
“Like ‘tis no’ real.”
Deck nodded.
They chatted amiably, sitting on a grass bank, while watching their new partners demonstrate their skills with bows and arrows.
“How’d you end up here?” Torn asked. “Weren’t you retired?”
“Yeah. Don’t laugh. I was raising reindeer in Finland.” Torn had to fold his lips together to hold mirth back. “I know. I guess it’s funny, but reindeer are kind of cool.”
“Sure.” Torn nodded agreeably. “Cool. Why’d you retire?”
Deck shrugged, looking more somber. “Same reason as usual. Lost a partner to vampire. Didn’t have the taste for it after that.” Finngarick nodded. After a few minutes of silence, Deck said, “Why do you think they paired us with them?”
“Who knows? I’m sure they have their reasons. They always do.” Torn glanced over at Deck. “Are you gettin’ along?”
“Sure. But I pretty much get along with everybody.”
“Well, there’s your reason right there.”
“What do you mean?”
Finngarick chuckled. “I get the feelin’ Shivaun is no’ the sort to get along with everybody. She strikes me as the sort who’s ne’er shy about speakin’ her mind.”
“Not shy. Sounds about right.”
“’Tis what I’m goin’ to call her,” Torn said like he’d just made up his mind.
“What? Shy?”
“Aye. Sher and Shy.”
“Good luck, brother. You’re gonna be the one to tell her. I’m an innocent bystander.”
Standing next to each other on the field, Shivaun pulled her bowstring back and said, “You’re fuckin’ him?”
“’Tis no’ the question. The question is whether or no’ I’m acceptin’ the mate bond with him. The answer is aye. I am.”
Shivaun let her arrow fly. “Thought we made a pact.”
“We did. When we were no taller than the bow you are bendin’. We’re made for matin’. Elflings have no understandin’ of that. Grownups do.” Sheridan stopped and turned to look at her sister’s profile. “There’s no point in bein’ mad about it. The instinct is stronger than childhood promises. You may find out someday.”
Shivaun snorted. “Nothin’ is stronger than a vow. If you have character.”
Sheridan chose not to be angry with her sister about the harsh words. She might someday learn for herself that nature put the urge to mate above every other impulse. At least for elves.
“How am I supposed to respect a person who does no’ keep her word?” Without looking at Sheridan, Shivaun turned her back and walked away.
Sheridan stood in shocked silence, watching her sister retreat, but when the full impact of what had just been said and done hit her, she sat down where she was, put her arms around her knees and buried her face so that no one would see or hear her uncontrollable sobs. Her sister had never spoken to her like that before. And she’d certainly never just walked away.
Even with the overcast sky, she felt the shadow that fell over her.
Finngarick sat down and pulled her into his side. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“What happened?” he said. After she told him, he said, “Sher. Darlin’. She just does no’ understand.”
“I know,” she nodded. “Does no’ make it any the less painful.”
“I expect no’. What can I do to make it better?”
She thought for a minute. “I like chocolate.”
He laughed before giving her a squeeze. “I’ll get you all the chocolate grown in the Americas if ‘twill make you happy again.”
“We need to leave some for others. Also, where will you get it? Remember when Rosie said no alcohol and no sugar this week?”
“Ah, but I know somethin’ you do no’.”
“What?”
“Your mate has intimate knowledge of the ways of contraband.”
She looked up. “You do?”
“Aye.” He swiped at the wetness on her cheeks with his thumb. “Dry your eyes. The Prince of Chocolate is at your disposal.”
“I do no’ want you to get into trouble.”
Torn laughed. “Sher. There’s no’ a thing I would no’ do for you.”
The Hawking twins came running across the field toward them with wolf dogs conflicted between wanting to protect the girls and wanting to race ahead. “They sent us to call you for dinner.”
“What are we havin?” Torn said.
They looked at each other. “Didn’t ask.”
“What will happen if we do no’ come? Did you ask that?”
They looked at each other and giggled. “No, but you’d be in trouble with our mum and you wouldn’t like it.”
“I expect no’,” Torn said. “I guess we’d better go with you then.”
The girls and the dogs ran back toward the abbey as he pulled Sheridan to her feet. “Do no’ worry, love. She’ll come ‘round.”
Sheridan sighed deeply. “I hope so.” As they walked, she said, “It’s been quite a day. I learned I’m no’ as strong as I thought, came to grips with bein’ mated, was deserted by my sister, and propositioned. Who knew so much could happen in one revolution of the sun?”
“What do you mean you were propositioned?”
After telling Sheridan he was stepping away for a minute, he scanned the great room for Ram, but didn’t see him. Elora said to check upstairs. So he made his way to the Hawking suite on the third floor and pounded on the thick door. It creaked when Ram opened it.
Finngarick didn’t wait to be asked in, but charged past Ram.
“Come in,” Ram said sarcastically, noting that Torn appeared upset about something. “There a problem?”
“Aye. There is a problem and his name is Helm.”
“I see.” For a fleeting instant, Ram sympathized with what it must have been like to be his own father. “What’s he done now?”
“HE ASKED MY MATE AND HER SISTER TO ENGAGE IN A THREE WAY!!” he yelled.
Ram looked confused. He set his book down, crossed his arms, and said, “First, I did no’ know you’re mated.”
“Aye. ‘Tis, em, new.”
“Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Second, she’s here?” Torn nodded. “So, if I’m understandin’, Helm asked the O’Malleys, one of whom is your mate, to have him on for a go.” Torn nodded. “And your mate, which one is she?”
“Sheridan.”
“Sheridan,” Ram repeated. “Did she say yes?”
“O’ course no’!” Torn exploded.
“Then what’s the problem?” Ram asked calmly.
It took a full minute for the Hawking logic and mischievous twinkle to fully register with Finngarick. Perhaps he’d lived too long in the human world. Once he grasped what Ram was saying, Torn began to laugh. “Do no’ tell his mother,” Rammel admonished. “The woman is highly emotional and no’ ready to admit her elflings are no’ babies. The news that her son has a workin’ set would probably set her hair on fire.”
Torn grinned and nodded. “By the way.”
“Aye?”
“I know you let me, em, get the upper hand today.”
“Why would ye think so?”
Finngarick gave him a look that said, Come on. Knights do not bullshit each other. “Why did you do it?”
Rammel sighed. “My wife is a romantic. She wants your mate to think you’re the cat’s pajamas. And she promised me a special treat.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Torn chuckled. “Just between us… thank ye for puttin’ on a good show.”
“Just between us, you’re welcome.”
Throughout dinner and lecture, Finngarick and Sheridan exchanged a series of knowing looks indicating that they were agreed they’d be pushing the beds together after making their way to their room later.
They said goodnight to the team across the hall and were barely inside their own room before Finngarick gripped the back of Sheridan’s thighs and lifted while planting her back against the door at the same time. Her gasp turned into a giggle that was never finished before his mouth covered hers in a kiss so desperate it seemed he needed it to live.
She nipped at his bottom lip and moaned her approval when he dragged his teeth down her neck toward her collar bone. It was then she learned she could drive him mad by lightly blowing in his ear. His entire body shuddered while his chest rose and fell faster.
He set her feet on the floor so that he could rip his shirt over his head. He tried to step back into her, but she put her palm firmly on his chest holding him where he was.
“Stop!” she said.
His brows came together. “Why?”
“I want to see you.”
As understanding dawned, Finngarick took a step back, letting her eyes drink in the expanse of peaches and cream skin along with the scars that proclaimed he was a veteran slayer. He pulled off his boots and let them fall to the floor with a thud. Socks followed quickly, which left him in jeans. As he pulled down the zipper that revealed more of his auburn-tinted happy trail, she sucked in a deep breath, almost dancing with anticipation and the desire to touch, lick, suck, bite, nuzzle, and kiss. She had no idea where that originated from. Certainly not experience.
Her eyes went wide when he pushed his jeans to the floor and stepped away in the full glory of commando.
“I…” she stammered, which pleased him no end. “I…”
He began to prowl toward her slowly, loving the fact that she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to look at his face or his cock. Her eyes jumped back and forth.
He angled his head to the side. “You what, Sher?” She stood still as a doe who’s afraid she’s been spotted by a predator. “Tell me.” He said it quietly, but the tone of seduction was unmistakable.
“I’ve ne’er…”
He realized what it was she wanted to say. “No boyfriends in the New Forest then.” She shook her head. “No worries. Your body knows what to do.”
She wasn’t so sure of that, but for some reason she didn’t understand, she trusted him.
When he was within reach he gingerly raised the hem of her tee. She lifted her arms and let him pull it away. He undressed her slowly, taking care with frequent kisses and touches to let her know it was intimacy and not just sex. By the time she was naked, she was so turned on she was vibrating almost visibly.
He lifted her in his arms, walked to his bed, and took his time learning her body, inch by inch. Soon enough she was begging, using the word, “Please.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for exactly. Only that she had a powerful need that only Finngarick could fill.
“Touch me,” he said, letting his eyes drift down his own body.
Tentatively she took him in hand, reveling in the velvety feel, and the way that touching him made him groan.
“Harder,” he said.
She squeezed a little harder and, giving into instinct, stroked him up and down. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” he breathed.
The first time he made love to his mate, he wanted it to be face-to-face so he could savor every emotion. As he adjusted himself on top of her, her legs formed a cradle for his body. He began to manipulate her nub, playfully, then skillfully. When her orgasm was imminent, he pushed into her, slow enough to give her body time to adjust, fast enough to get past the barrier without more than a slight sting.
As they lay together, recovering breath, each sorting out the thoughts of lovers, which memories to keep, which memories to discard, which memories needed to be recreated again and again, Finngarick tried to put an adjective to his feelings. Satisfied. Euphoric. Complete. Most of all, for the first time in his life, he had a reason to look forward to the future.
As he listened to her breathing begin to even out when she fell asleep, he held her closer. She was everything. And he was never going to let her go.
As proclaimed, after three days Rosie began taking them on interdimensional gambits. It was a revelation. There were not enough words in the universe to prepare someone for how it felt.
By the end of the week they were learning how to move faster and faster, eyes and senses making adjustment to speeds beyond mortal imagination.
They each had to also do a homing test. They were left in a different dimension and were expected to find a portal and navigate their way back using their compass.
When word of what D.I.T. was up to began to spread through Black Swan, people started calling Rosie’s hunters The Wild Bunch.
“The Wild Bunch?” Rosie said to Elora.
“Yeah. They say running down demons off world is balls to the extreme.”
Rosie laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“If you’re not careful, all the vampire hunters will be jealous and want to work for you.”
“That’s a bad thing?” Rosie asked.
“Yes, Elora Rose. We need vampire hunters.”
“Oh, sure. I see what you mean. Well, we’ll have to spread some gossip that the work is boring, the living conditions are brutal, and that I’m a mega-bitch to work for.”
“Alright. I’ll get right on that.”
“I think we’re ready.”
“So Ram and I are going home then?”
“Yes. But with the option to recall.”
“Good luck with that. We’ll be taking off in the morning.”
“Thanks for helping.”
Elora gave Rosie a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Yes, duckling. You’re welcome.”