Night's Honor (12 page)

Conscience. There was another concept that messed with her simple idea of what a monster should be. Irritably she pushed the thought away. “So all of this is just an extended version of basic training.”

“In some ways, yes.” He regarded her with an unfathomable expression. “And like basic training, we've barely scratched the surface. It will be some time before you're suitable to be taken out in public.”

She bristled for more than one reason, but mostly because, despite her attempt to keep up emotional barriers, she was starting to look for Raoul's approval, and his words stung.

Clearly everyone else in the household thought highly of him, and she was beginning to respect him as well. He was always patient, always courteous, and indefatigable. But despite the fact that she threw everything she had into every single day, she had almost never heard a word of praise from him.

Her mouth tightened. “And here I thought I was doing rather well.”

She had meant to sound flippant, but it fell flat. He met her gaze, his face devastatingly dispassionate.

“You are, by far, the weakest link in this household.” His voice was just as dispassionate as his expression, which made his words all the more cutting. “You are much weaker and slower than the rest of us, and far less trained, and at best, your loyalties are undefined and uncommitted. As long as you refuse a direct blood offering, you will retain the worst of a human's frailties. With Xavier's bite, you would become faster and stronger. The hour-long run that you struggle to complete every day would become merely routine, and all the aches and bruises you've suffered in the last few weeks would heal overnight. While I like you well enough, and I don't necessarily think you're a bad person, I see you as a dangerous liability.”

She would not let his words hurt. Balling her hands into fists, she breathed evenly until the heavy ache in her gut passed. After a moment, she said, “Xavier has already told me that if I can't let him take a direct blood offering, freely and willingly, by the end of the trial year, I'm out. Now I even understand why. It's for all the reasons you just listed. But it's also early days yet. Despite everything you've thrown at me, I'm still here. I'm still training.”

He studied her. “Fair enough. I think we're done for the day.”

She stood with poorly disguised relief. “See you in the morning.”

“And you.”

As soon as she reached her room, she brushed her teeth, fell into bed and was out like a light again.

Six
A.M
. came hard these days, but one good thing about rising early for a run—she was a good fifteen minutes into her hour before she fully woke up.

If she weren't so sore, she would grow to love those early morning runs. It was the only time since she had arrived that she went outside the walls of the estate, and it was quickly becoming hypnotic.

That early in the day, sunlight had barely begun to filter through the tall redwood trees on the east side of the curving, remote road, and to the west, more often than not fog rolled off of the ocean like a crowd of ghosts. Whenever any of the others joined her, usually they wore headphones and listened to music, but she didn't have an MP3 so she listened to the sounds of the wind and the ocean, and the rhythm of her own breath.

After a quick shower, she dressed in plain black exercise pants, tennis shoes and tank top, breakfasted on a hefty helping of oatmeal, raw walnuts, fresh fruit and prescription strength Aleve, and arrived at the training area in the gym, ready for another day.

As had happened several other times, this morning Raoul greeted her with a nod and gestured her over to where Marc and Jeremy were sparring with knives. Relieved at the small reprieve, she reached his side.

She noted, and not for the first time, that everybody else maintained their physical regimen while working at their jobs on the estate. Of all the attendants, she was the only one that trained all day long, and she was all too aware it was because she was so new and had so much to learn.

For several minutes, she and Raoul stood watching the two men who fought with such swiftness and ferocity she had difficulty tracking their actions. They were totally engaged, their faces hard with concentration.

Thinking of the conversation from last night, she had to swallow past an unexpected lump in her throat. “I understand exactly what you were saying last night, especially when I watch them.” She kept her voice quiet. “They're wicked and beautiful and completely fearless, while I'm struggling to avoid getting pinned to the mat.”

Raoul didn't disagree. His gaze fixed on the other two men, he said, “Your first choice must always be to run away. If you see danger or violence, avoid it at all costs. If at first you can't run, you fight to get away. Then you run. Kill if you have to, but run. Marc and Jeremy are at a different level entirely.”

She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows. “How do you get there from here?”

She half-expected him to spout a trainer's rhetoric. Train every day, work your ass off, don't make excuses or slack off, blah blah blah.

Instead, Raoul turned to give her his full attention. When at first he didn't speak, she turned to face him as well, growing self-conscious at his intent, thoughtful expression.

He said, “To get to where Marc or Jeremy is, you have to change the conversations in your head.”

She frowned uneasily. “What do you mean?”

“When you face a confrontation, you have to decide if whether you live or die is part of your agenda. Either you fight to survive, and that's your goal, or you fight to put your opponent down, no matter what the cost. Those are two separate conversations, and the decision for them has to come from here.” He tapped her on her breastbone with the back of his knuckles. “That basic choice affects your capacity to act in the world. You can train as much as you like, but you won't ever become what they are until you decide to.”

When Raoul deemed they had watched enough of the fight, he turned away and beckoned for her to follow, which she did thoughtfully. They reached a separate training mat, and as Raoul turned toward her, she faced him.

“Making a decision is all very well and good,” she said. “But you also have to factor in your opponent, and whether or not he's a Vampyre or some other kind of Elder Races creature that is much faster, stronger and more Powerful than you are. That would take strategy and tactics.”

Raoul raised his eyebrows. “Of course.”

She put her hands on her hips. “So, when do you start teaching me how I can possibly take down those stronger, more Powerful creatures instead of just focusing on these basic maneuvers?”

He smiled. “As soon as you can surprise me.”

“That's it, you just want me to surprise you?” She gave him a wary squint. “You don't want me to pin you, or score some kind of hit?”

“That would be asking far too much of you,” he told her gently. “Now, on your guard, if you please.”

If you please.

Yeah, that was never a good sign.

She took the appropriate stance, as he had taught her, and he slammed her down onto the mat. Even though he was just a human, he could move so fast, she often never saw him coming.

As lithe as a normal athlete in his twenties, Raoul straightened and turned away to wait until she recovered.

Then she rolled to her feet, and they went at it again.

While listening to the others talking over lunch, she found out that Xavier was due to return some time that night, and her nerves bunched into a jangled mess.

Even though she had no real idea what Xavier did in the business of running the Nightkind demesne, she knew he was a very busy and important man. He would have any number of matters to attend to once he arrived home.

No doubt she was far down on his list of things to do, but sooner or later, he would turn his attention to her once again. She might not be exactly comfortable here, but her days had fallen into a certain rhythm that she had started to depend upon. Xavier's return threatened to throw all of that into chaos.

•   •   •

W
ith a sense of weary relief, Xavier drove his Jaguar through the gates of his estate shortly before eleven that evening. The house was ablaze with lights, the lawn a softly shadowed green carpet that fell away to glimpses of the ocean that gleamed darkly in the moonlight.

The scene was beautiful, welcoming and peaceful.

As he pulled to a stop, the front door opened and Diego jogged lightly down the steps to the car, greeting him with a ready smile.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Hello, Diego.” Xavier smiled at the other man. Diego was handsome, thirty, energetic and ambitious, but thankfully he was also likeable, which helped to balance out the rest. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks. And you?”

“Glad to be home.” He realized he had automatically taken the car keys from the ignition, and he tossed them to the other man. “Please take my things inside.”

“Of course.”

Angelica, Jordan and Raoul were waiting for him just inside, their faces warm with welcome. He had kept up-to-date on all the daily happenings via text messages, emails and phone calls, but it was still heartwarming to see their pleasure at his return.

He touched Angelica's arm. “How are you? Well, I hope?”

She nodded, her lined face wreathed in a smile. “Yes, it's been very peaceful here, as always.”

“I'm glad to hear it. I could use some peace right now.” He turned his attention to Jordan. “And you?”

“About to go on vacation, sir.” Jordan grinned. “Only two more days now.”

“Very nice. Where are you going?”

“I'm going to spend a week in Mendocino.”

“That'll be a nice break for you. I'm glad you're getting away for a while.” After he finished speaking, he met Raoul's gaze.

Smoothly, Raoul turned to Jordan and said, “Please bring a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a bottle of bloodwine to the study.”

Jordan inclined his head. “Right away.”

The pleasantries over, Xavier walked into his study, where a bright fire was already filling the room with warmth and light. The windows had been propped open, allowing a fresh breeze to flow into the room.

He enjoyed the combination of the fresh, cool night air and the warmth from the fire. Everything had been arranged just as he liked it.

As he strolled to his chair, he shrugged out of his jacket, tugged off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and wrists, and rolled up his sleeves. The book he had been reading before he had left lay where he had left it, on the table beside his chair. A sense of comfort stole over him.

Raoul followed, closing the door behind him. “How was New York?”

“Interesting, and a much needed change of pace after all the council meetings last month. Dragos spared no expense on the Games. He's quite the showman when he decides to be.” He rubbed his dry eyes and relaxed with a sigh. “I got Melisande to agree to the last of the trade proposals.”

Raoul raised his eyebrows. “That will have pissed Justine off.”

“The thought has given me a great deal of satisfaction, after everything she did to sabotage this year's council sessions.”

“You've made a bad enemy of her.”

“She's made a bad enemy of me,” he said softly.

“I mean it, Xavier.” Raoul's expression was serious. “By blocking what she tried to do with Melisande and the council, you've gone from being an annoying inconvenience to a serious impediment to Justine's goals. She won't forgive or forget that. You need to watch your back.”

As he talked, Jordan tapped at the door and brought in their drinks. Raoul poured bloodwine for him, and the Cabernet Sauvignon for himself.

Xavier gestured with one hand. “Enough. I'm sick to death of all of it. Tell me how things are going here.”

While Raoul talked about the mundane day-to-day events, Xavier leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, sipped his bloodwine and listened. It was a thoroughly pleasant way to unwind, until Raoul brought up Tess.

Interest sparked through his growing laziness. He asked, “How is she doing?”

Raoul remained silent for so long, he lifted his head to look at the other man. Not that he gained much information by doing so. Raoul could be entirely inscrutable when he wanted to be, which was one of the many reasons why Xavier valued him.

Finally, Raoul said, “She's tenacious.”

Amused, he smiled. “Is that the best you can say?”

Raoul didn't return his smile. “I think she's a loose cannon.”

Remembering how Tess had hacked his email and, later on, how she had broken his rules and eavesdropped on his conversation with Melisande, he gave an infinitesimal shrug. “I like loose cannons. They think creatively, and shake up the status quo.”

“I'll tell you what I told her this morning,” Raoul said. “I see her as a dangerous liability. She is by far the weakest link in this household. She's weaker and slower than any of us, and her loyalties are undefined and uncommitted at best.”

His smile faded, and he stared into the bright golden flames of the fire. While Raoul's assessment was fair, there was something about Tess that might be worth the time and effort they poured into her. Some indefinable thing, maybe the very tenacity of which Raoul spoke, along with that delicious spark of defiance.

“I remember you emailed me when her background check came back,” he said. “It was clean.”

“Yes, it was. Aside from the fact that she worked at one of the major casinos in Las Vegas, there was nothing of note in it. But then standard background checks reveal very little.” Raoul shrugged, and his wry gaze met his. “After all, neither you nor I have been convicted of any crime either.”

“True enough, my friend.” His smile returned to tug at the corners of his lips.