Chapter 8 – Firsts

Chapter 8 – Firsts

The grounds where training took place made no attempts to resemble human quarters. The building dedicated for trainees to spend what leisure time they had was a prime example of this. The building had three levels, each level for a company of ten vampires vying for a position on the Patrol in their district.

Each vampire was given a ‘room’ that was essentially a flat sleeping surface encased by four walls and a ceiling, high enough only to allow its occupant to sit up. The doors to the rooms sat embedded like morgue refrigerators against a high wall, and weren’t that different to their medical counterparts; both interiors were blissfully chilled, pulled out like a drawer after the door was opened, and housed the sleeping dead. Unlike the shiny metal coffins, however, these vampire cubbies allowed for some comfort in the form of a hard mattress and flat pillow. Topmost rooms were accessible only by climbing up the small ledge above each door, and new trainees were always recognisable by their clumsiness when scaling. Trainees were required to sleep at least eight hours during the sun’s reign, regardless of how little sleep their blood purity required of them.

The common area for each company, however, had more personal touches. Common rooms came with three couches which faced a medium sized TV set on the floor. Someone before my time supplied my company with a now scuffed DVD player, and it sat leashed to the TV by three black snakes. At the other side of the room, behind the couches so the light wouldn’t interfere with the TV, a stainless-steel two-door fridge stood, its modern sheen made prouder by its popularity – it held an assortment of chilled beverages; alcohol, blood, the usual.

Great discipline was expected from the eager to-be Patrols. Living quarters had to be kept exactly how the Commander liked it, and at a constant ten degrees Celsius. Pride was quickly put aside for cooperation, as punishment was dealt to the entire company, regardless of ownership of fault. The trainees were also expected to appear groomed to Patrol standards; long hair on guys were cropped short (Brandon sulked for hours) and swept back, and girls either had to tie their hair back in a sheer ponytail, or crop it short as well. As vampires were perpetually expected to be in two places at once most of the time, the majority of the girls opted for the scissors.

I was in Company B with Cara, on the second floor of the building. Below us, Brandon already had his eyes on a female vampire in Company A. Above us, a dark-haired version of Brandon from Company C already had his eyes on Cara (which was altogether amusing, as Cara opted not to tell him that she had no interest in guys).

In the days leading up to the start of training, things were a little awkward in the House of Irving. Cara was granted a spot on the Patrol following her help in Greece, and Brandon and I were granted a spot purely because our fathers had sway (this became a problem once training happened too, as all the other vampires there were fighting for a position we’d already been promised without having proven our worth). But Damien hadn’t had the chance to prove himself Patrol material, nor did his father warrant enough power with the Council. He applied for training, but the intake had already been filled for the year. I had to be the receiving ears of vented frustration from both Irving siblings for many days.

In the end Damien, ever the gentleman, told his sister that he’ll be first in line next year, and catch up to us as fast as he could. Cara had shed uncharacteristic tears, and I received no thanks for my part in their reconciliation.

Kellan also took up a lot of my time, teaching me exactly what kind of demeanour I had to have. He seemed to have assumed that I was informed of AL, and that I was on his side. His actions, while noticeably indicative, bore no concrete sign of preparing me to be a spy in the Patrol. Cara, however, was mentioned a lot, and I took the hint to copy her to the last drop of translucent blood.

And on my last day, I spent a few hours with Callie as I was packing my laughably small overnight bag full of my one set of clothes and my one allowed personal item – a key that unlocked Callie’s front door, which I fastened around my neck. We spent the time listening to her favourite songs and, before she stepped into the car taking her back home, we said goodbye with a long hug.

There was nothing to be sad about, or miss – I was going to be back in sixty days, it was as simple as that.

What wasn’t so simple was finding out that my Commander had a very familiar face. I realized the problem when it was pressed millimetres from mine. The irony was that this time, I was the one pinned so hard against a wall that it cracked.

“Whatever was outside these walls don’t exist in here. Here you will call me ‘Commander’, is that understood?” I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I saw the corner of Angelia’s lips curl at my pain.

~~~~

I brushed the dust off my uniform and the chortles off my mind; being laughed at was something I’d stopped encountering since I was Draked, but I’d kept Cara and Brandon’s warnings in mind, and had prepared myself to be humiliated, doubly so for being a ‘princess’.

“Daddy’s special girl got her clothes dirty? If you want nice clean clothes, you can go back home,” Angelia called out. Her voice was challenging. I turned to face her, looking her straight in her eyes. If there ever was a moment to pass on the message that I was with Kellan and his AL, and if there ever was a defining moment in a career, I was sure it would not jump onto a silver platter like this again.

“Why would I go home to have my clothes fixed,” I smirked, not breaking my gaze, “when I can just have you, my tailor fix it for me?”

I felt the air displace as Angelia’s foot came flying towards my chest, but before I could translate the displacement to reaction, I was already embedded into the wall, pain signals complaining under the sudden work-out.

The quiet chuckles quickly boiled to unconcealed laughter. Looking up suddenly became an unimaginable action, the few centimetres I needed to raise my chin felt like a whole marathon, and I’d already hit the proverbial wall (excuse the pun).

With all the images of likely screw-ups playing behind my eyes, I launched myself back towards Angelia. Kellan, in those two weeks after the Laela incident, taught me how to handle my new, stronger body. Unfortunately, he didn’t teach it to me with hand-to-hand combat in mind.

The laughter didn’t even wait for body-to-ground impact before it erupted. My fist not only completely missed, it was used against me as Angelia pulled my arm beside her and threw me to the feet of my company. Hard-toed boots prodded me back to my feet, and eager hands threw me back into the ring of beating.

It wasn’t everyday that these vampires could get away with tormenting a high-ranking Noble and be able to get away with it – especially since Nobles were always simply given things they had to fight for.

This time, I saw Angelia’s elbow flashing towards me, and ducked. Her arm nicked the hair on the top of my head, and I barrelled shoulder first into her stomach. She lost her balance, and I took this opportunity to plunge a knee into her.

The knee never made it: instead it was grabbed and tossed into the air, followed by the stunned body attached. I bit the floor for the second time in just as many seconds.

As I rolled over, feeling every ache in my body in chorus with the laughter, I saw that Angelia was standing over me, offering a helping hand. “You’ve got hope in you yet, Dante.” I took her hand. “Now I just have to beat the stupid out of you, and you’ll do fine.” I fell back to stand next to Cara, whose face held a mixture of concern and embarrassment. Angelia raised her voice – unnecessarily, as everyone had stopped their mirth when they sensed that she had something important to say – and addressed us. “Listen up Company B. In the Patrol, teamwork is of the utmost importance. I don’t care who kisses your hand, or what kind of blood you drink; you are all equals here. If someone screws up, you all equally get punished. On the other hand, if someone does something good, then you all equally celebrate.” Angelia locked eyes with me. “Dante here seems to think that being a Dante grants her special permission to be insolent.” Company B groaned, some giving me sidelong glares. “But, she has also shown refusal to be defeated even against an insurmountable opponent.” For what I realized to be the first time, I saw a genuine smile spread across Angelia’s face. “So, Inspection will be half an hour earlier, at sixteen-thirty, but curfew will be pushed back an hour, for those who don’t wish to sleep eight. Is that clear?”

The clichéd but nonetheless hearty “Yes Commander!” echoed off the walls. Cara patted my shoulder, shaking her head. I supposed that if anyone had to be used as a segue to a pep talk, I would be the most therapeutic choice for Angelia.

Angelia left with a meaningful look in my direction, and I could only hope it meant she knew that I was on her side. The rest of the trainees dispersed, some giving me small grins and grunts, but most of them looked away from me. It seemed like their earlier bravado has now transformed into nervousness.

The other eight vampires of Company B decided to celebrate the extra hour before curfew. The couches were shifted to the sides of the room, and the TV and DVD player pushed back. I helped Cara tape a mosaic of crepe paper and cellophane with holes cut into it onto the TV which was tuned into an early morning cartoon, creating a desperate but strangely hypnotising disco effect in the pitch black room.

A steady beat rolled out of the CD player that Angelia had previously allowed only after days of grovelling and better-than-perfect behaviour. The mix CD, I would soon realize, will be our only one – unfortunate on many levels, because this style of clubbing music was never to my liking.

One of the trainees who was here the longest – I supposed she continuously failed to become Patrol but was too stubborn to leave – drew out some blood bags from the fridge and passed them around. The Patrol may be tough on everything else, but when it came to matters of consuming blood, they were more than willing to supply copious amounts (blood bags only – escorts would mean living space and maintenance). The blood bags passed between hands and lips, the glowing liquid flowing liberally but never spilled. The veteran trainee, Zoe Kastner, came to Cara and me as well, handing me a blood bag with a wink. “Thanks, Sera.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay, I got my butt kicked, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, we really needed an excuse to let loose anyway. I mean, this looks pathetic, right? An extra hour and we break out the special juice.” I decided a polite chuckle would be the way to go. “But when you’ve been under the thumb for as long as I have been…well, you’re here for sixty days, right? You’ll see what I mean by the end of that.” She gave my hand a small kiss, more playful than formality, and waltzed away. Not that it mattered in here, but I could feel that Zoe, not being of highest of rankings, needed to prove herself badly or face a lifetime (or, rather, many lifetimes) of being nothing. As it turned out, instead of being outstanding, she became the nest’s mother hen.

I fell into one of the couches, my limbs spreadeagled like my emotions. I decided that first days were always the most exciting, and the rest would just follow into a staircase of routine. Cara joined me, pushing my legs aside. She ripped the bag open with her tots – she had surprisingly petite tots for her personality – and took a deep drag. The primal pleasure coursed through her body visibly, and she broke from the drink with enough verbal satisfaction to make me vampire-blush (so, really no physical blushing at all). Some blood leaked from the edges of her lower lip, and trailed silkily down her throat. She handed the bag to me with some reluctance.

“You got a little bit down here,” I said between gulps, gesturing at her throat.

“Help me get it off then, I can’t see it,” Cara replied. “And, not to insult anyone here, but having this party right after the one Caspar Troy threw? I think I might just go to bed early.” She got up, and snatching the blood from me for one more mouthful, pressed the bag into the hands of a vampire liberal with his ‘Woo-hoo!’ and sauntered off towards the beds.

“That’s alright, don’t wait for me,” I muttered, trotting after her. While I didn’t feel tired at all, I also didn’t like the way Woo-hoo kept on looking at me, as if he wanted to ask me to dance. Cara was usually the grinder at a party but, if she didn’t feel like partying, I wasn’t going to ask why. I started clambering up the ledges, having a topmost cubicle. “See you at sixteen-hundred.”

“Wait,” Cara said. Letting go of my handhold, I hopped back down. Cara hesitated only a moment before she hugged me tightly. The words she whispered next were only breaths by my ear. “We really need to stick together.”

“Don’t worry,” I whispered back, giving her back a reassuring tap. “We’ve got Angelia.” Cara broke the hug, but held onto my shoulders tightly, scrutinizing my face. “She’s the one who-”

“Okay, okay, if you say so,” Cara stopped me before I utter aloud anything incriminating. “Just…I want to be able to return you to your Callie in one piece.” I laughed despite her serious expression.

“Yeah, same here. Thanks Cara. Goodnight. Or, well, morning,” I leaned over and gave Cara a kiss on the cheek. “I never did learn what to say.”

“Goodnight, love,” Cara replied. As I crawled into my cubby-hole, I was pretty sure that that was the first time I’d ever heard Cara refer to someone with a pet name.

First day, first smile from Angelia, first beating up, first pet name; everything was upside-down, and I just wished the sixty days would finish faster.