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“Thanks,” I said, handing it back.
A few of the men clapped as I tested the twine, then strapped a quiver around my waist. I drew back an arrow and let it fly smoothly. It missed by an inch, slamming into the wood wall behind it.
There was something teasing in Tate’s face. Had she moved the target at the last minute? I grabbed another arrow, pulling the string back to my cheek and checking my posture. I let out a breath and took another. This time the arrow neatly split the pine cone before implanting near the first.
“One more,” Tate called, holding up another pinecone. This time I was sure my aim was true, but flinched when Tate screamed, flailing around before falling flat with an arrow in her chest. I raced towards her as she convulsed on the ground, with Luke right behind me. But there was no blood, and the arrow was pinched harmlessly beneath her elbow. She’d caught it under her arm.
She giggled as I helped her up. Luke scowled and a few of the men groaned as she took a deep bow.
“What?” she asked. “Just in case I don’t get a dramatic death later. Something to remember me by. Now, my turn.”
“For what?” I asked.
“You’re fighting teeth, or elite as you call them, but I hope after tomorrow you choose a better name. But few of you have ever faced one, not really. Even the chosen, aren’t trained against their own masters. So let’s have a real demonstration.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Luke asked. “Trevor in brute form was barely a match for you.”
“Right,” she smiled. “Most humans are small and weak. You’ll do nicely.” Luke swallowed, as she grabbed his wrist and led him forward. The gathering parted in a circle around them. Even Jacob and Steve stood nearby, looking on with interest.
“Alright, attack me. Take your best shot.”
Now it was Luke’s turn to be put on the spot. He slapped the air playfully, and she didn’t flinch. When he went for a punch, he broadcast his moves and overextended. She stepped easily to the side and then tripped his front foot, causing him to go down hard. He got up with a groan, but more determined. Tate spun easily out of the way as he threw a series of flailing punches, but then held still suddenly. Luke punched her hard in the face, and seemed so surprised he staggered back, clutching his hand.
I watched, as her cheek turned purple and a dark bruise appeared over her eye. A moment later it had faded again, leaving no mark. A single drop of blood stained one nostril, but she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She stretched her neck, prowling around Luke, who looked visibly nervous. She nodded down to a hasty woody shield, and he picked it up.
“We heal quickly,” she said. “And we are fast. Not terribly strong, maybe, but we make up with it in range and momentum.”
She sprinted the short distance to Luke and barreled into him with her shoulder. He went rolling a dozen paces backward. Before he could get up, she hoisted him to his feet, propping him up with one arm around his neck.
Some of the men looked angsty, but I saw Jacob raise a hand to calm them. They hated the elite, but Tate was right, they should see this up close. Tate grinned victoriously, flashing her fangs, before letting Luke go.
“You can’t fight an elite. You’ll get tired and run out of juice. Each injury will affect your ability. The elite will always heal and never run out of energy; but we aren’t omnipotent. If you did manage to tire one out, they’d just go find more blood from a less reluctant source.”
“During the battle,” she continued, “they won’t be looking for food. They’ll go after the leaders, the biggest threats first. They won’t attack you unless you get in their way; and then they’ll either tear through you or ignore you completely. That said, these elite, they probably won’t think about blocking, or wearing armor. They’ll grab your arm and body, exposing your neck; or slash at you with a sword, if they feel you’re worth the effort.”
“The longer they engage, the more they drink; they may become reckless. That much blood in the air, it can be disorienting. This will make them more dangerous, but also easier to kill, if you go at them together. Trap them in a net, or entangle their legs with something if you can. Bullets if you’ve got’em. Bleed them out until they’re hungry. Then they’ll hide out or start hunting according to their nature.”
“What about fire?” Steve asked.
“Sure,” Tate said. “Super effective. But we are creatures of the night. Let’s say Emily shoots me with a flaming arrow. That would take me out of the fight quick. But vampires hate fire so much, I’d see her light that arrow before she had a chance to fire it, and we could easily dodge it if we knew it was coming. Bullets are harder to dodge, but also less effective.”
There were nods and some polite clapping, then the group disbanded to continue preparations. The display was sobering, but it was better than some wordy speech, like Augustine might have given.
“Thanks,” I said, gathering together with a few of the others.
“I was holding back,” Tate said. “Killing for an elite, it can be personal. We crave a bond. So if we’re just slashing, if we aren’t hungry, we’ll be careful. But if we’re feeding, we’ll drag our prey into a dark hole, sink our teeth in, wrap lips around them like a tit and suck them dry.”
“Thanks for that image,” Luke said.
“Besides, why kill people unless they remember your face as they die? It’s a little fetish I have, I suppose. Whatever elite we kill in there will probably be farmed out to the compounds. I like to imagine them in their churches praying to their king and covenant, partaking of their artifice, and seeing my face. The little girl that ended their gods.”
“That’s dark,” Trevor said.
“When you’ve been around as long as I have, you run out of legitimate pleasures and pastimes. You’re either numb or twisted. Can’t be both.”
“That explains the outfit,” Camina said.
“What this old thing?” Tate said, giving a little twirl. “Feeling cute might delete later, idk.”
