Mike laughed. “Good isn’t really the right word.”
“Well then—” I spun slowly in a circle, taking in the now shirtless, sweaty surrounds of my knights, “—guess we better start training.”
“You heard her, men.” Mike clapped his hands together loudly and my four knights broke apart, lifting their shirts off or wrapping their wrists in black tape. “Take your shoes off, baby, or you’ll trip over.” He motioned down to my flip-flops.
I kicked my feet out of them and felt shorter without the whole millimetre of height they added. “So, what exactly do you teach them here? Why are those guys all sitting down looking at that whiteboard?”
“They’re being briefed on an external training op, but, aside from fighting skills and fitness, we actually teach the history of our people, so the Core have a clear idea where we’ve come from and what we hope to achieve.” He went to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and we also teach human skills, too—like how a vampire can blend in with the humans, you know, how not to break a hand when shaking, how to make quick exits in awkward situations and the ins and outs of identity change. And there’re a few guys who don't speak English, so we have language classes, too.”
“Good idea,” I said with a smile. “So where are their uniforms?” I nodded toward one of the guys wearing black sweats and a black t-shirt.
“We don’t train in uniform usually, but even if I wanted them to dress formally today to meet their princess, it wouldn’t have been possible.”
“Why?”
“Emily.” He grinned.
“Emily?”
“Yes. I had the knights in uniform last month when she came to visit and she nearly died at the sight of them—said there is no way her best friend’s army is going to walk around in clothes they stripped off King Arthur’s corpse.”
I laughed out loud. “Oh, I love that girl. She’s so funny.”
“Yeah.” Mike chuckled. “So, she actually designed the new get-up. It’s been approved already and we’re shipping them out as we speak.”
“Shipping? From where?”
“Sweden. The Ninth Order should be getting them today, but ours will take another week or so.”
“Cool. Not a big rush anyway, right. I mean, what do they need uniforms for? It’s all a little silly, if you ask me.”
“No, it’s not.” Mike glared at me. “This is not some joke, Ara—a bunch of guys getting together to play dress-up. This is an army, and when you unite a group of people together for one greater purpose, order, uniformity and respect must be an adamant part of that collection. Wearing an outfit that represents who you are and what you work for is a matter of pride—not some ridiculous gesture by a guy who wants to play pretend.”
My mouth fell open. “Mike? What happened to you—you’re all…grown up.”
A warm, mischievous grin turned one corner of his mouth. “Yes, Ara. I have to be. I’m the man responsible to defend the most valuable thing in all of our lives—” he winked at me, “—our freedom.”
I laughed, patting his arm. “And you are the best man for the job.”
“I know.” He nodded and wandered over to a table of weapons.
“Um, so, I get that you’re using venom-tipped swords, and all, and maybe this is a stupid question, but, wouldn’t it just be easier to bite the vamps instead of doing all this weapons training and stuff?”
“These guys will need those weapons, Ara.” He presented the greater mass of the knights. “We’re only turning the four knights in your personal guard into what I am. The rest, I’m going to turn when it’s time. So, we need weapons training because their bite won’t kill vamps. The only way will be with venom-tipped swords.”
“Really? So, I don’t have to bite all of them?” I asked, pointing to the group of giant, well-toned men.
Mike smiled softly. “No. We don’t need fifty men that can kill vampires. Me and the four Private Guard should do.”
I bounced my head with approval. “Smart thinking.”
“Well, it was actually Morgaine’s idea.”
“So, are those swords tipped yet?” I pointed to the table.
Mike slid a long, silver, very heavy-looking piece of metal out of the pile and smoothed his fingers down it. “No. We keep those ones in the armoury. This one’s for training purposes only. We never, ever keep venom-tipped swords in the training hall, Ara, and if one even got in here by mistake, someone would be in big trouble.”
“Why?”
“See that Asian guy over there?” He pointed to the back of the room.
“I see about twelve Asian guys over there.”
He laughed. “Well, anyway, one of our knights is a vampire.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and I have several more—guys I trust, who are joining the Core this week.”
“Okay, so, no venom-tipped swords.”
“Right, and no biting.”
I nodded.
“Here.” He gently tossed the sword to me. It spun through the air, handle driving a path, and my hand shot up to catch it, nearly taking me backward with the force I used—way too much for such a light piece of metal. “Still not used to all this strength, huh?” Mike laughed, taking a sword of his own.
“Not yet.” I smiled and looked down the blade, feeling its weight in my hands, light, like it was a strangely-shaped broomstick. “So, how do you make the venom stay on the tip? Wouldn’t it wear off after two jabs?”
“Nope. Have you actually looked at venom, Ara?”
I shook my head.
“It’s thick—like blood. When it dries, it doesn’t lose its potency. If we coloured it blue and wiped it all over this blade, when it dried, you’d still see blue, and like salt, it sticks around in tiny particles. You only need the smallest amount to touch their bloodstream.”
“What about when the sword gets really bloody?”
“It just lubricates the dried venom and makes it act faster. I haven’t tested, but we reckon you could get about a hundred kills from each sword.”
“Oh, cool. Well, there are only about a thousand vampires in existence, isn’t there, so that should be fine?”
“You got it. Now—” He grabbed my fingers and tightened my grip on the sword. “I wanna see how you handle yourself with this thing. Don’t drop it, okay?”