"I have wooden practice blades," he said, going back inside his office. He brought out four wood practice blades that had decent handles on them. He even showed me how to hold them, telling me to parry with the flat of the wooden blade and not the edge. That made sense; you whack any metal edge, I don't care how tough the metal is, you're likely to knick it.
"Okay, have at it," I said. He came after me. I learned that Dragon could move pretty fast. It was my guess he'd been doing this a long time. A really long time. He was grinning after a while when he backed off for a breather.
"I'd like to see my brother's face if he had the chance to do this," Dragon said.
"You have a brother?" I asked. "Does he do the same thing you do?"
"No. He is immortal, though, and my twin."
"What's his name?"
"Crane."
"Ah. Does he have the decorations going too?"
"If you mean the tattoos, then yes, he has cranes where I have dragons. Crane has been instructing students in the art of the blade for a very long time."
Dragon got the workout he wanted, I think. I managed to block all his blows. No way I wanted to get whacked, even with a wooden sword. He wasn't holding back after a while, getting comfortable with the fact that I had the strength (and then some) to handle what he could dish out. "We'll do this again," he said, wiping off the practice blades and putting them away.
"Whatever you say, boss. Now, if we're done for the evening, I have a few things to check into." I took off as mist.
The restaurant near the hospital had a bar and I discovered that there's nothing in Solar Red's religion to keep its priests from drinking, or even drinking heavily. There were four of the red-robed ass**les sitting at the bar when I wandered in. They were drawing dark looks from some of the patrons, too; a few of whom were off-duty medical personnel.
Karzac, honey, are you still working? I sent. I was hoping he was at home, actually.
I am at home having a meal, he returned.
Good, I sent. I think you need to turn in early.
You would have made a good physician, he replied.
Nah, I used to freak at the sight of blood. The perfect person to become a vampire, I know.
Your other torture victims are recovering.
I imagine the priests aren't happy about that. There are four Solar Red priests here at the restaurant, I informed him.
I ordered a glass of wine and sipped it while the priests drank their bourbon straight and glared at anyone that gave them more than a cursory glance. They were still sitting there, ordering more drinks when three people walked into the bar and what happened next might have been the strangest thing I'd ever experienced. The man was tall—nearly as tall as Gavin, about as wide across the shoulders and Flavio was now the second most gorgeous man I'd ever seen in my life. This one, though, had a scent about him that I'd never come across. Power radiated from him. He wasn't Ra'Ak; I'd know a Ra'Ak's scent anywhere and it was pure evil. This one—it was like scenting an entire planet at least, maybe a whole universe—with earth, oceans, mountains, snow, deserts, everything. While I was working out in my brain how a single being could hold all that inside him, the two shorter men with him (at least I thought they were men, they looked a little androgynous) zeroed in on me. The tall man had to hold them back; otherwise, I think they would have run straight to me. The man brought them to me at a walk and one of them dropped into the floor right in front of me, started gabbling in a language I couldn't understand and then kissed my feet. That wasn't uncomfortable or anything.
"Honey, what's wrong?" I knelt down next to him and lifted his face in my hand. He was crying, as was the other one. Neither was much taller than I was, but one had dark brown hair, the other nearly blond. The tall man they were with had dark, beautiful, exotic features. I almost couldn't tear my gaze away from him to tend to the dark-haired one weeping on my shoes. I had to pull him up—he was kissing my feet again. "What's wrong with him?" I asked the man when I couldn't get the little guy to stop crying.
"Here." He tossed a credit chip onto the table for my drink and motioned for me to follow him from of the bar. I didn't like leaving my drinking priests behind—I had plans for them when they left. This was just too puzzling, though, and I didn't need the attention these three were bringing to me. A few bar patrons were beginning to stare and whisper. Both small men hooked an arm through mine and escorted me behind the taller one.
We found a table in a secluded portion of the restaurant and the two smaller men sat as close as they could get to me while the tall man sat across the table. "I am Kifirin," the tall, handsome one introduced himself. "These are comesuli, or companions in your language," he informed me, indicating the two shorter ones. "Their kind has not seen a Queen in a very long time." I nearly froze at Kifirin's words.
"How would they know something like that?" I scoffed, not sure at all how the man had come by that information. It worried me, too—it could at best bring me unwanted attention and at worst get me killed. Somehow, I knew (without knowing how I knew it), that compulsion wouldn't work on Kifirin. He held confidential information—and my life—in his strong, long-fingered hands.
"If any mortal would know you were a Queen, they would," Kifirin replied smoothly. "The comesuli still teach their children that a Queen will come some day and rebuild Le-Ath Veronis."
"Le-Ath Veronis?" I had no idea what this man was saying. And how did he know what I was and how did these two little guys? They were staring at me with adoration. I had no idea what to do with that.
"In your language, it would translate to Heart of the Vampire." His dark eyes studied me, as if he were weighing my character and intentions. I shivered at his explanation.
"That information, loosely tossed about could get me killed," I snapped, angry in an instant. Frantically I searched for any logical reason why these three would have information on me, as well as what they intended to do with it. All they had to do was hand my information over to four drinking priests in the bar nearby and I'd be on the run.
"As if I would harm one of my own," Kifirin snorted. I swear—a bit of smoke curled from his nostrils. "And these two—they would be your devoted companions and would die before any harm could be brought to you," he added.
"Honey, I don't have any idea what to do with that information," I muttered. A waiter came over and offered Kifirin a menu, placing others in front of the rest of us. Kifirin opened his and looked inside.