Page 17 of Dance of the Phoenix (Cloak of the Vampire #3)

Aileen

Logan’s face was quite expressionless when I rose from my seat and headed toward him. But I knew him well enough to know he was giving me a mental scowl.

It was the twitch in his right eye. It was always that twitch whenever he was displeased about something.

I was not happy about it either. In fact, I felt as much displeasure as he did, only I had a feeling I hid it better.

But our personal feelings shouldn’t matter. The Hecatomb was a week away. If we wanted to survive that damn thing, we had to put our differences aside.

“Hey,” I murmured, feeling the energy seeping out of me as I came to a stop beside him, looking at Neisha and Zoey chatting animatedly with one another.

Logan did not respond. He didn’t even glance my way.

Taking a deep breath, I made a split-second decision.

“I know neither of us is happy about this pairing ,” I whispered, wincing at my own word choice and ignoring my rising anxiety.

“But the Hecatomb is not a joke, Logan. So please, give this fight your all and work with me as best as you can, for both our sakes.”

Because if there was one thing I was sure of, it was Logan’s and my compatibility when it came to fighting styles. And while I did not like having to deal with him, especially after we had successfully ignored each other ever since I first became a vampire, my will to live was stronger than my ego.

And his will should be too.

Whether Logan accepted what I said or not, I wouldn’t know, because Margarita immediately told us to be ready, and when she called “Start!” we were already on the defense against Zoey’s and Neisha’s immediate onslaught.

As Logan fended Neisha off by evading her attacks, I was doing the same with Zoey. My reaction time was just slightly better than hers, and it was enough for me to avoid getting beaten.

I hated being on the defense, though. I always felt safer when I was actively doing something in a fight rather than protecting myself. And while defense was important, offense was more up my alley.

So when Zoey tried to punch me next, I decided enough was enough. I grabbed her flying wrist and with grueling effort flung her across the room and away from me. She landed on her side, gasping in pain.

I didn’t waste a moment and turned to Neisha. She and Logan were still in the same position, with him evading her powerful blows. She sniggered at him, since she could see what I saw: the sweat on his forehead from having to restrain himself.

He was actually refusing to fight. As if he didn’t acknowledge that the results of this mock battle were so much more important than our shitty past.

That realization settled heavily in the pit of my stomach, and I snapped loudly, “Get a fucking grip, Logan!”

Both Neisha’s and Logan’s heads whipped to my direction. Using that momentum, I sent a kick toward Neisha and felt a surge of satisfaction when I felt my heel digging into her ribs.

She grunted and staggered back, Zoey rejoining her now that she was on her feet. I moved to stand next to Logan again. “Are you seriously going to fuck us both over?”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” he hissed back, his eyes, like mine, still on Neisha and Zoey, who were now standing in a defensive stance, as if to tell us it was time we stopped playing and took it seriously.

“I’m not trying to do that,” I snipped back before I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I knew would force Logan into action. Tension rolling over my body, I hissed, “Just stop acting like a wet blanket and start fighting for your life .”

Before he could respond, I surged forward and sent a round kick toward Neisha. She gave me a grin as she blocked it with her arm, but I was already sending my fist to her face.

The moment my fist connected with her cheek, I felt Zoey coming from behind me, and I knew it was time I began.

So I launched the first Behest.

Ever so gradually, I slowed down my movements. At first, Zoey was still moving at the same pace as before, but before she knew it, she began mimicking my pace. And while I slowed everything down, I gathered my restrained, bubbling energy in the pit of my gut, readying myself.

And when the time was ripe, with Zoey attempting to punch my face, I exploded.

With my gut as the center of my energy for the second Behest, I shot forward into her fist and connected both my feet with her stomach, using my core to bring her down with one fast motion.

Zoey cried out as her back crashed against the floor, but I didn’t stop moving. I swiveled around and found Logan executing his own second Behest on Neisha, bringing the Gift of his enhanced leg muscles into play when he practically kicked her into unavoidable submission.

With Neisha and Zoey down, Logan’s and my heavy breathing were the only sounds in the room. We glanced at one another, and I gave him a nod that he did not return before he walked toward the bench full of wide-eyed participants, almost falling down on his ass as he was fighting to catch his breath.

Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I took back my seat on the bench as well. It seemed we didn’t need to reach the time limit of our mock battle. With our successful synchronized attack of Iovan’s Imperium’s first couple Behests, it was clear which pair was superior.

And unfortunately, it was not Neisha and Zoey.

We took a lunch break before it was time for the pairing decisions.

At first, I thought it would be a lunch break like any other: I would go with Zoey to find Isora, the three of us would eat together and gossip about what was happening, and then we would part ways.

This time, however, was different.

“Stop,” Ragnor called when everyone—us ten Hecatomb participants and his two Lieutenants—reached the cafeteria’s entrance. Once he had our attention, he said with a blank face, “We’ll all sit together.”

Shocked murmurs broke out among the participants. Margarita and Magnus, too, seemed baffled as they shot Ragnor questioning looks he determinedly ignored.

When we entered the cafeteria with Ragnor at the head, every vampire in the room turned to stare. As we headed toward the tables in the middle, those damned tables that used to give me hell those first few months I worked as a kitchen assistant, my heart sank to the floor.

I’d never wanted to sit at one of these tables when I served them. I always saw those who sat there, Ragnor included, as elitist, entitled assholes.

I’d never thought of myself as one. Even now, when I was in a relationship of some sort with Ragnor, the head of those elitist assholes, I still didn’t think of my standing as higher than before. If anything, I was the root of all problems coming this League’s way.

I stopped in my tracks when everyone took seats around the party’s arranged long table. Ragnor, who sat at the head, caught my gaze, and with a small movement of his chin, practically told me to get my ass over there.

But I refused.

Even if it was out of stubbornness only, I did not want to sit at table number one. It was a matter of principle, and while I didn’t have many of those, this one was important to me.

Back when I was human, I worked as a cashier at the grocery store. It was a low-income job, with even lower respect levels, but I’d been proud of it. It was a normal occupation. Something anyone could do. There was no need for blood and gore and little girls screaming for help.

Then I became a kitchen assistant. While working in the Rayne League kitchen meant being subjected to Lon—the kitchen’s head, who could give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money—and being forced to serve certain higher-ups-filled tables, it wasn’t all bad.

I’d met CJ, Jada, and Bowen there. They were the only vampires who’d been kind to me right from the start.

They left me with good memories of that work, even if it had been Sisyphean and difficult.

In retrospect, I could say I was proud of that job too.

Participating in the Hecatomb, while not a job in the official sense of the word, was closer to the one I’d had many years ago, back in my hometown under my father’s tutelage. At the very least, it was a far cry from a regular grocery store or kitchen work.

In that sense, I was the complete opposite of Zoey, who seemed to revel in her being voted in as a participant. She saw it as a stepping stone, like most vampires in her position did.

I saw it as the lowest of the low. There was no pride, no dignity, in fighting and killing others. And while I never claimed to be an altruistic pacifist, and I was ready to kill to save my own skin, I would never glorify it.

I’d stared death in the face, both as a perpetrator and a victim, more times than I could count. Most of the deaths I’d witnessed were so brutal, especially given the victims’ ages, that it made me sick just thinking about it.

So while I wasn’t a stranger to death, I never took pleasure in it, and even if I were in Zoey’s position, I would’ve never done what she did.

So I gave Ragnor a small shake of my head and walked away toward the buffet, where I piled some rice, chicken wings, and salad on a plate and then took a seat at an empty table like the good old days.

“I must say, I like you, Henderson.”

I whipped my head up with a mouth full of rice to see Oberon putting his own tray on the table and taking the seat across from me. He flashed me a grin and winked. “It seems we’re both of the same mind.”

For some reason, his smile coaxed one out of me too. “I saw you sitting down with the others earlier, though,” I told him, arching a brow.

He dug his fork—which looked minuscule compared to his massively thick, muscular arm—into his steak and with one bite, demolished almost the entire thing. “It takes one’s courage to say ‘fuck the system’ and propel others into action,” he said wisely after he swallowed.

As if to prove his point, another person appeared at the table: Haneul, with his hawk on his shoulder. “May I join you?” he asked quietly, a slight accent to his voice.

“Of course, bud,” Oberon said with a big, toothy grin, and patted the seat next to him. Haneul nodded and sat down, putting his own tray of food on the table. “I told you,” Oberon then said to me, “all it takes is one person.”

My smile grew as my heart warmed a little. But when I glanced at table number one, that fuzzy feeling dissolved as I saw Ragnor speaking to Margarita, his back purposely turned to me, while a trembling server tried to get their table’s order.

I looked back at Oberon, who seemed to study me. “Why did you really follow me?”

Oberon threw me another shrug, but this time, his face was serious when he said, “Because I, too, have low regard for those who think they need to be served.” He pointed his fork at me.

“It would’ve been a different story if there wasn’t a buffet and the cafeteria worked like a restaurant, but since it’s not, I find it off-putting. ”

I didn’t realize my shoulders were tense until they fell, relief filling me up. I suddenly felt so validated, and while I hadn’t thought I needed this before, I realized I did. “That’s exactly what I believe too,” I said quietly.

The rest of the lunch passed in companionable silence that made me feel far less alone.