Page 44 of Death Dance

THIRTEEN

Our master does not quite understand you do not have significant self-esteem woes.

Somehow, I found peace through carving wood. As the sun rose and its pale luminesce filtered in through the windows, Emerick snuggled into the blankets on our bed and slept with our kittens, who had joined him on his pillow while I worked at a nearby table on a cozy armchair.

I’d told him I would only be a few minutes, but I doubted I would be keeping my word.

For however long it lasted, I would treasure the serenity of the moment.

An hour after sunrise, someone knocked at the door. Puzzled, I got up, checked the peephole, and discovered Ben waiting outside. After snagging my room key, I let myself out of the suite and joined him in the hall. “Emerick’s asleep. Is something wrong?”

Ben blinked. “Beyond the role reversal?”

I grinned at the bafflement in his tone. “I was carving when the sun rose, and rather than sleep, I kept carving. It’s quiet.”

“Ah.” Ben smiled, and in his expression, I spotted his understanding of the situation.

I, especially, rarely enjoyed any form of quiet.

“There isn’t a problem, is there?”

“There’s no problem, I’m just not sure how I’m going to talk to Emerick about you when you are here and Emerick is not.”

I grinned at his comment. “How about you talk to me about me? Then we’ll talk about Emerick because he’s sleeping on the job and we can.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, and after a few moments, he shrugged. “That works for me.”

After considering our options, I opted for the pair of armchairs near the elevator meant for us to be comfortable if we had to wait. “There’s no reason we can’t talk out here, right?”

Ben followed me. “There’s no reason at all. Emerick wanted to talk about your training and preparations for our operations, and he didn’t want you to feel inadequate.”

I raised a brow. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Our master does not quite understand you do not have significant self-esteem woes. You have food security issues, you have trauma, but in reality, you’re quite confident in your skills—and quite accepting of your weaknesses. My goal is to limit your weaknesses.”

“My hunting is not traditional because I lack proper training, and my diet was insufficient, so I still lack physical strength compared to other vampires?” I guessed. “We started trying to work with me, but we didn’t get far. Things have been busy.”

“Busy is an understatement.” Ben waited for me to sit before plopping down, stretching out his legs, and sighing. “But yes. Emerick has been worried about our group fighting together because we don’t have a cohesive strategy or fighting styles. We don’t know how to work with your brothers or your father well. I can work with Emerick, and Emerick can work with me, but everything else is chaos.”

Right. Ben hated chaos when the chaos involved a fight, one we were striving to make fair only to us. “I suggest we embrace the chaos. We give everyone a job that caters to their strengths while keeping those nearby who counter their weaknesses. Rather than try to change the people in the group, just change the strategy to match the group. I am your woman if you need stealth before sheer brutality. As such, we should probably put me somewhere we suspect Breckenan is going to go and use me as the very violent frontline assault. Emerick can back me up and be the skilled ambush predator he is. I have no idea what you’re going to do.”

“I fight in a style similar to Emerick. I’m also strong at chasing down a fleeing opponent.”

I regarded Ben with wide eyes. “Can you teach me to chase down fleeing opponents?”

“I can, yes. It’s a lot of sprinting, aerobic exercising, and parkour.”

I loved watching people do parkour; something about people mimicking goats and going places humans typically couldn’t appealed to me. “I want to be a human goat.”

He sighed. “I want to argue with you, but there are similarities to goats when humans engage in parkour. I’m sure we can find somewhere on this ship to start teaching you. I may regret this, but I will ask your father for suggestions. The next concern I have is your potential trauma. We don’t know how far Breckenan took your beating.”

“Do you think it’s possible Alheen didn’t actually erase those memories?”

“I don’t know. I’m struggling to come to terms that the Originals are members of your family—and that they view you as an Original as well.”

“Realistically, what does the label change?”

“Outside of scaring the piss out of sensible vampires, very little. That Breckenan isn’t terrified of the force we’re bringing to the table tells me that he truly knows little of vampire society. That he attacked Clarke will ultimately be the final nail in his coffin. That you and your mother rose are of importance, but Clarke is old, liked, and respected. Breckenan is none of those things. Every reputable brood in the world has cast their lot with Clarke—and even the unsavory broods hesitate to show any allegiance to Breckenan and his lot. As word spreads the Originals are on the move and are against Breckenan? He’s truly dead and simply doesn’t know it yet.”