Authors: Chloe Neill
Drink Deep (29 page)
At least I could do someone a favor.
With another break in the action—since I was surely not going to interrogate Simon without Catcher as backup—I called Kelley and offered an update. I advised her about the
Maleficium
and our new theory that reunification of good and evil was causing the city’s problems.
Maleficium
and our new theory that reunification of good and evil was causing the city’s problems.
I also called Lindsey, who confirmed the Bruce Campbell movie-thon was under way. I didn’t exactly have time for a movie, but I was stressed and tired and I needed real food. If a movie was playing during the meal, so be it. With dinner in mind, I pulled over at a taco truck on the way back to Hyde Park and ordered as much as I could stuff into a single bag, which I thought was less likely to raise Frank’s ire if I was caught sneaking junk food into the House.
I drove back and slid into a parking spot, then walked back into the House past rhythmically chanting protestors and stoic men and women in uniform. The House was quiet when I walked in, only a few vampires milling about in the front rooms. There was a kind of solemnity in the House under Malik’s rule, and I wasn’t sure if that was because the House reflected his generally solemn personality, because vampires were still grieving, or because we were still under GP occupation.
A mix of all three, maybe.
Without my medal but with contraband, I hustled upstairs to Lindsey’s third-floor room. I didn’t bother knocking, but carefully opened the door—there were usually vamps spread out in every spare nook andspamn person cranny, and if you weren’t careful, you inevitably banged someone on the head.
The dark room was, as per usual, full of noise from Lindsey’s wee television and full of vampires. Lindsey, Margot, and Katherine had spots on the bed, and a slew of vamps I’d seen only in passing were packed onto the floor, maybe fifteen in all? That was certainly a violation of Tate’s rule against assembling in groups larger than ten.
Long live the revolution!
I picked my way across the Novitiates, distributing paper-wrapped tacos like a culinary Santa Claus, and eventually stopping in a small empty spot in a far corner of the room. The vamp beside me smiled and offered one of her pillows, which I took with a whispered “thanks.”
One campy horror movie later, I reached two conclusions:
One: I loved my friends.
Two: I still didn’t get it.
We’d just cleared the room of taco wrappings and vampires when my and Lindsey’s beepers simultaneously erupted.
I pulled mine off and checked the screen. “TRAINING ROOM,” it read, with a “DRESS FOR TRAINING” follow-up.
I looked up at Lindsey. “What’s this about?”
“I’m sure Frankfurter has some vital lesson he wants to teach us.”
“Sadly, Frankfurter does not ask us for advice,” I said. “And I totally support the use of ‘Frankfurter.’ ”
“I knew you would,” she said, heading for her bathroom door, probably to go change into our required yoga pants. “He could learn a lot from two hip, big city vamps.”
“Did you just cast your own sitcom?”
“I believe I did, yeah. I’m some witty dialogue and an after-school special away from an Emmy. You know, in case this vampire guard thing doesn’t work out.”
I offered a sound of agreement and walked to the door so I could change clothes. “Frank’s still here,” I pointed out. “There’s probably a good chance this guard thing won’t work out for either of us.”
It said a lot that she didn’t disagree with me.
Once clothed in a black sports bra and yoga pants, I gathered together with Lindsey, Juliet, and Kelley in the sparring room.
We stood barefoot at the edges of the mats, waiting for our call to arms—or whatever Frank had in store. He stood in the middle of the room—in the middle of the
mats
—still in a suit and fancy shoes.
mats
—still in a suit and fancy shoes.
Lindsey quietly clucked her tongue. “Luc is not going to be thrilled Frankfurter’s wearing shoes on his tatami mats.”
“No,” I whispered in agreement. “That is not going to go over well. Not that he can do anything about it.”
Malik and Luc stood together on the other side of the room, irritated magic seeping from their corner. The balcony that ringed the room was filling with House vampires, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. They clearly didn’t trust Frank any more than we did.
When the balcony was full, Frank loudly cleared his throat and stared daggers at the vampires until everyone was seated. Then he lowered his gaze to the four of us.
“I have determined it is in the best intn ther erests of the House that your semiannual physical testing be held tonight.”
Stunned silence descended over the room, at least until the whispering started. The Novitiates’ quiet comments echoed my own: This wasn’t the time to take the House guards out of commission for a test. And even if we failed, who was going to replace us?
This had all the markings of an attempt to charge us as incompetent—or make me look worse than Frank already imagined I was.
Luc was the first to speak aloud. “You want to give them a test? That’s ridiculous. They need to be outside defending the House, not dealing with bureaucratic nonsense.”
“Fortunately,” Frank said, “I did not ask for, nor do I require, your opinion. As the GP has repeatedly attempted to drill into this House, this House and its operation is your primary—and only—concern. The complications of human existence are not.”
“As you and the GP are well aware,” Luc spat back, “the city is falling apart, one piece of real estate at a time, and you don’t think we need to be worried about that? You don’t think we need to be out there on the streets dealing with it?”
“Luc,” Malik said, putting a hand on Luc’s arm. “Not now.”
His words suggested Luc show respect for Frank, but his own emotions were clearly roiling. It was evident in the furrow of his brow, the tenseness in his posture and the vibration of tense magic from his corner.
The conflict Malik faced was obvious—to stand up for your guards and your second in command, or to obey the council responsible for your House’s existence and the protection of your vampires.
Sometimes, you had to lose the battle to win the campaign.
“Mr. Cabot,” Malik said into the tense silence. “Continue.”
Frank nodded pompously, but the rest of the vampires took Malik at his word, and immediately quieted. “As I was saying, you will be tested and evaluated in various forms of physical fitness and endurance. If you refuse to participate, you will be stripped of your position in the House. If you fail, you will be stripped of your position in the House.”
The room went deathly silent, all of us shocked. He looked up and looked right at me.
“You’re all rated Very Strong Phys. Let’s see if those classifications hold true.” Frank looked down at his watch. “You will begin . . .”
“This can’t be for real—” Kelley pleaded, but she was silenced by a withering glance from the narc.
“You will begin,” Frank said again, “now.”
Testing a vampire’s strength and endurance was tricky, especially if the vampires were guards of one of the nation’s oldest vampire Houses. We were obviously strong, fast, and flexible. We’d been trained in combat, both with and without swords, and we’d run our fair share of miles. We’d done thousands upon thousands of sit-ups and squats, push-ups, and chin-ups. The four of us probably could have exercised into infinity. But Frank wasn’t interested in infinity.
Frank was interested in what we could do right now on half rations of blood, measured by a testing regimen probably created in the 1950s. Our strength was tested by throwing giant iron balls and weights across the Cadogan grounds. One smashed window notwithstanding—they were
really
hard to aim—we managed to surpanath wasass his arbitrary milestones.
really
hard to aim—we managed to surpanath wasass his arbitrary milestones.
Our flexibility and speed were tested with jump ropes that we were expected to use with ever-faster repetitions. We belly-crawled across the backyard, flipped gigantic truck tires he’d hauled in for the task, and ran back-and-forth sprints until our legs felt like dead weight. He ordered us into the pool, freezing in the November chill, and made us swim laps until our skin was milky white and our teeth chattered from the cold.
We climbed out of the pool with soaked clothes and hair, steam rising from our bodies, and hatred of Frank growing in our hearts.
Frank carried around a clipboard and made notes as we worked through his drills, his gaze disdainful, as if we were failing in every respect to meet whatever mental criteria he’d established.
Not that that was surprising. He couldn’t have honestly thought this was a good time to test the only remaining three-and-a-half guards in Cadogan House. The House was peaceful only because we’d paid Claudia’s minions to protect us, and it was a waste of time trying to prove a point he was never going to accept. Whether we passed or we failed . . . we still failed.
But while the workout was exhausting, it was still just a workout. Painful, sure. Tiring, yes. But just as in a normal workout, you reached a point where you zoned into the rhythm. We were vampires, and strong ones, and that meant something. We were strong, fast and flexible, whatever Frank’s criticisms.
And we weren’t the only ones who thought so. Word of the test spread through the House. Slowly but surely, a trickle of Cadogan vampires began to spill into the yard. They formed a protective circle around us as we worked, occasionally handing over blood boxes and bottles of water like marathon volunteers.
We were belly-crawling across the grass for the second time when Margot and Katherine popped through the edge of the crowd.
“We have something for you,” Margot said, glancing around sneakily to locate Frank.
Lindsey, her hair still wet and stringy from the pool and her face streaked with dirt and sweat, looked up from the ground. “He’s taking a call from Darius,” she said, “so if it’s against any of his numerous rules, get to it.”
“We can do that,” Katherine said, and a semicircle of vampires surrounded her to face us as we wormed our way across the ground. “We thought a little night music might do the trick.”
Katherine sang a note to test her pitch, which was as perfect as a well-tuned grand piano. She winked, and with no more ado than that, Katherine and the rest of her vampire glee club began to sing the Beatles’ “Black Bird.”
The grounds fell completely silent, every vampire quiet as her voice rang, clear and strong, across the night.
Weeks and weeks of Frank’s abusive behavior had taken its toll on the House. When Ethan had been Master, Cadogan House had been more than a structure; it had been a home. I hoped Malik could make it that way again, but as Frank had made clear, his goal was to break Cadogan House down, brick by brick, vampire by vampire.
But as I lay on my stomach on cold, dewy grass, I couldn’t have felt any closer to those vampires. Tears began to stream down my face, and I wasn’t the only one moved. There were tear tracks on Lindsey’s face, and Kelley was biting her lip to hold them back.
When the ensemble reached the bridge, the rest of the hundred vampiresndron on the lawn joined her, their voices a chorus against idiocy. Their voices a chorus for the House, and for us, and for all that Ethan had tried to create.
For the family he’d wanted to make of us.
Magic lifted and rose, peppering my arms with goose bumps, and I sent a silent prayer of “thanks” into the universe. Frank may be an asshole, but he’d managed to bring us together even after Ethan’s death had pulled us apart.
The chorus had only just finished the song when Frank emerged through the crowd again. The vampires rustled nervously while he pushed his hands into his pockets and surveyed us with obvious disdain.
“I’m not sure concerts are within the spirit of the rules. This is a testing procedure, not a block party.”
Malik, who also stood at the edge of the crowd, his hands behind his back, turned to regard him. “It may not be within the spirit of your rules,” he said, “but neither is it against their letter. And that, as you have reminded us, is what’s important. The rules.”
Frank stared at Malik for a moment . . . but he didn’t argue. Maybe he could learn to pick his battles after all.
Alas, I was wrong again. Having tested our agility, strength, and stamina, Frank decided to test them all again.
He led us to the far back corner of the House grounds, where four wooden posts the width of telephone poles had been pounded into the ground. They were four feet tall and maybe ten inches in diameter.
“Juliet, Kelley, Lindsey, Merit,” he said, pointing to the poles in succession. “Stand atop your pole.”
We all looked at him for a second, probably all thinking the same thing:
I’m sorry; you want me to stand on a pole?
I’m sorry; you want me to stand on a pole?
“That wasn’t a request,” he said in the prickly tone of a leader so inadequate he had to bully people to follow his orders.
We all shared a glance, but without a better option—other than losing our positions in the House—we obeyed.
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