Page 9 of Dance of the Phoenix (Cloak of the Vampire #3)

Aileen

The fourth floor of the Rayne League compound was dedicated to the Troop’s training facilities, top secret restricted areas, and one conference room.

When Zoey and I entered the conference room the morning after the votes, I was a bundle of nerves. It was one thing to know I was forced to participate in the Hecatomb but quite another to have everyone else think I was chosen for it.

Thankfully, the room was empty but for one familiar face. A smile broke over my face, and I walked over to my former dishwashing team member and sat next to him. “CJ.”

He turned to me with a fond look. “Aileen.”

“You know each other?” Zoey asked as she took the seat to my right.

“CJ was my mentor during my kitchen-duty days,” I told her before turning to him and mock scowling. “You never told me you were part of the Troop!”

He put his strong arms behind his head and gave me a somewhat sad smile. “I was enlisted only last month. Some would even say promoted.”

“But you don’t think so?” Zoey jumped in with a frown.

“I think people’s lack of regard for the kitchen staff and the importance of that job is quite demeaning,” CJ retorted pointedly, almost defensively.

I couldn’t help but share the sentiment, especially since I knew not just CJ but Jada and Bowen, the other members of the dishwashing team, and how hard they worked.

“Either way,” I said, smiling, “I didn’t know you could fight. You gave one hell of a show.”

He shot me a look. “I can say the same thing about you two.”

Before I could reply, more people entered the room, taking their spots around the long meeting table: Logan, accompanied by Cassidy, along with the two other Commons selected, one of whom was Sulien, the Troop member I’d had a mock battle with.

“Hey,” CJ said as the female Common vampire took the seat on his other side. She was quite pretty, now that I saw her up close, with pixie-cut platinum hair and bright quicksilver eyes. “Have you spoken to Jada?”

Yelene sighed. “She won’t leave her room. I think you should come over later today and talk it through.”

“What happened?” I asked CJ, worried. Jada was the first vampire in the Rayne League who had acted friendly toward me. She was a warm and funny woman, and I genuinely liked her.

CJ was about to speak when a few more people entered the room: the three Troop Commanders other than Logan, who was already here. Neisha was one of them, and she waved at me before plopping herself next to Zoey.

Once all ten of us were present, the doors opened once more, and Ragnor entered, followed by his two Lieutenants: Magnus and Margarita.

It had been some time since I last saw Margarita, and I couldn’t help but feel bile rising up inside me at the sight of her petite form and the mane of her red curls.

It might’ve felt like a lifetime ago, but I still remembered how she treated me when I was a newcomer.

I was far from letting go of that grudge.

Magnus, on the other hand, I knew nothing about.

I never really interacted with him, and all I knew was from what I could see: He was, most likely, the best-looking man I’d ever seen.

With burnished-gold hair and honey-colored eyes, along with a tall and toned figure enveloped by bronze skin, he was like the incarnation of Adonis.

But his type of beauty was like a sculpture’s in a museum: gorgeous yet completely detached.

Aloof and distant. There were a few occasions I’d seen him smile and act friendly, but only to Ragnor or some flavor of the day he took back to his room at the end of the day.

Ragnor took the seat at the head of the table, with his Lieutenants sitting at his sides. Everyone fell quiet when he began speaking. “Greetings, everyone,” he said formally. “Starting today, you’re going into two weeks of an intensive training regimen to prepare for the Hecatomb.

“You’ll have both group and private training sessions for the first week,” he went on, glancing at me briefly before he continued. “The week after, you’ll train with your partners.”

Zoey’s hand shot up, and Ragnor nodded for her to speak. “What do you mean by partners?”

“In the Hecatomb, you’ll participate in a two-on-two fight,” Ragnor replied patiently. “The pairs consist of a Common and a Gifted. After the first week, which will be closely supervised by Magnus and myself, we will decide who to pair with whom.”

Lowering her hand, Zoey’s face turned contemplative as she mulled it over.

“Don’t mind it for now,” Ragnor said. “All you need to do is focus on bettering yourself as much as possible until the Hecatomb.”

The meeting was adjourned soon after, and the training finally began.

The training room assigned to the Common Hecatomb participants was large and wide, reminding me of a martial arts training room. Mattresses covered the floor, two rings suspended from the ceiling and ladders scaling one wall.

The other four Commons and I were currently standing in a resting stance while a man called George, who looked like an actual tank—all muscle, no fat—moved slowly among us, silently sizing each of us up with dark, cryptic eyes.

I kept a blank expression on, impassively staring ahead every time he scanned me up and down. I didn’t know what he was trying to achieve—it wasn’t like he could tell much about our abilities with a simple deep stare—but whatever it was, all I could do was wait until he was done.

And minutes later he stopped in his tracks and clapped his hands together once so loudly, the sound echoed in the room. My eyes automatically snapped toward him.

“Give me jumping jacks,” he said, folding his veiny tree-trunk arms.

There was a short moment of shock before all five of us started jumping. Thank God I had put on a tight bra that held my boobs in place; otherwise they would’ve been all over the place.

For the first few minutes, no one uttered a word.

Everyone was simply doing what George had told us to, no questions asked.

However, at some point, the sound of short breaths filled the air.

It didn’t come from Yelene, Sulien, or CJ, who seemed no worse for wear, what with their highly developed stamina.

Rather it came from Zoey, who didn’t seem like she was built for such a long, monotonous exercise.

I, too, was suffering, but I’d learned how to breathe while doing such exercise, so my only problem was the sweat pooling on my skin.

When George raised his hand for us to stop, all of us stilled our movements and returned to a resting stance. His eyes then moved to Zoey, and he pointed at her and said, “Start doing laps around the room and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Zoey’s face was already flushed from the initial workout, but it seemed to redden even more at being singled out. But she didn’t say anything and instead stoically nodded and did as ordered.

George returned his gaze to the four of us who remained standing before he said, “Get down to push-ups.”

The four of us settled into position and began. And this time, I felt myself starting to fight for breaths while sweat dripped into my eyes. Biting my lip, I forced myself through every push-up, ignoring the uncontrollable shaking of my arms and the groaning muscles in the backs of my legs.

“Stop.”

I climbed to my feet and found George’s eyes on me. “Start doing laps.”

Barely breathing, all I could do was nod just like Zoey did before I joined her.

This was how the first hour of training passed. As Zoey and I ran our laps, exhausted and sweaty, the other three did the exercises George ordered them to. It wasn’t until the beginning of the second hour that he suddenly said, “Everyone, stop.”

Zoey practically fell down on all fours, spitting as she fought to breathe. I sat down with my back to the wall, wishing the air conditioner was stronger.

George approached and looked down at us with disapproval. “You two. Take a fifteen-minute break before starting laps again.”

This did not land well with Zoey. “Excuse me?” she said, perplexed.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You heard me.”

She seemed furious. “I can hardly move my legs, and you expect me to run laps again?!”

He crouched before her, his expression suddenly dead serious.

“You chose to offer yourself as a participant,” he told her in a silky tone with an underlying edge.

“You could’ve avoided it, pretended this has nothing to do with you, and gone on with your life.

But you’re here now”—his face darkened—“and I’m going to make sure to do everything I can so you will survive what’s to come. The question is, will you?”

Zoey visibly gritted her teeth as she glowered at him, and, to my surprise, her eyes glowed a soft gold. “Yes.”

“Then do what I say and be back here in ten minutes.”

I cleared my throat, and both Zoey and George turned to me. “I thought you said we had fifteen,” I told him with a shrug.

He gave me a humorless smile. “You will have even less if you continue to waste my time.”

Zoey and I were immediately on our feet, running out of the room as if our sore muscles were figments of our imaginations.

“Damn him,” Zoey bit out once we were in the small Troop-only kitchenette we now had access to. She aggressively uncorked her bottle of A-plus blood and took a long chug.

“He’s right, though,” I said, sipping my B minus. “You could’ve sat this one out and none would be the wiser.” I paused and frowned when she glared at me. “Why did you decide to go up onstage a few days ago?”

Zoey’s glare turned to her blood bottle, and that told me her anger wasn’t directed at either me or George. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, her free hand fisting. “I’m here now, and I have to get stronger in the small amount of time we have.”

I studied her for a few long moments. It didn’t look like she was regretting her decision. Instead, her face showed a panicked desperation.

It made me wonder, not for the first time, about what she had gone through while at the Renaldi League.

According to Eleanor, my former Atalon League suitemate, the girls at the Renaldi League were coerced into doing horrifying things.

Acting as prostitutes while also killing Lord Renaldi’s adversaries.

I doubted any of them were unscathed by trauma.

I wondered what Zoey had been forced to do. How far had Renaldi pushed her in the few weeks she’d spent in his League?

But I knew better than to pry. If Zoey wanted to tell me, she could.

“What about you?” she suddenly asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. She gave me a penetrating look. “Why did you sign up for the show?”

And since I didn’t want to tell her the specifics of the convoluted mess I was in, I gave her a wry smile and said, repeating her own words, “Doesn’t matter.”