“Have you ever given a tour before?”
“Nope. First time, but I do accept tips.” Then he added. “Of the monetary sort.”
It might have been funny if she'd understood the reference, but, he knew that questioning look on her face, so he said it with her, “What’s a tip?”
Knowing it was meant in a good natured way, she laughed with him.
On the rest of the walk down the hall past apartment doors, down the elevator, out into the busy junction, he explained the fine art of tipping: who gets one, when, for what service, how much, and how it should be given. She thought it was way too complicated.
He stopped to point out various places where services were available before they came to the coffee shop. The chalk board menu displayed some nice choices of hot drinks and the glass shelves showcased some giant, yummy-looking muffins. She asked for a large hot chocolate, a double chocolate muffin with chocolate chips, and a cup of mixed fresh fruit.
Storm laughed and asked if she wouldn’t like some Hershey’s syrup on the fruit cup.
They found a table for two in the solarium which, she was sure, would be her favorite indoor space. Storm had ordered a coffee called Americana and a thing that looked like unleavened bread stuffed with bacon and overcooked eggs. It was kind of disgusting, but she was willing to overlook a lot where Storm was concerned.
After all - suddenly she heard in her head an audio flashback of Storm’s voice speaking softly, saying, “It’s gonna be okay. We’re almost there. Almost there.” He had carried her to the infirmary in time to save her life, all the way urging her toward hope and survival. He alone made the decision to rescue her despite dissenting voices saying things like “don’t touch it” and “kill it”. With that inexplicable torrent of memories, she felt a wave of appreciation, affection, and admiration wash over her.
“What’s in that disgusting looking thing you’re about to put in your mouth?”
He chuckled and explained about breakfast burritos while chewing and insisting she take a bite. She agreed, but only on condition that she could keep her eyes closed while doing so. Her conclusion was that she wouldn’t be ordering one anytime soon. She said she was old enough to know that everything can’t be chocolate, but fortunately those weren’t the only two choices.
It would be hard not to notice that passersby did a double take when they saw Elora. Celebrity was the last thing she wanted. It was anathema to her, the very reason why she’d lived the equivalent of captivity her entire life, mostly restricted to palace grounds.
“How long do you think it will take for people to get used to me?” she asked.
Storm looked around. He’d been so focused on every nuance of Elora’s mood, every slight change of expression, that he hadn’t realized she was drawing unwanted attention and feeling self-conscious.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re the new kid in town. People get used to change really fast around here. I’d give it twenty-four hours, which means you’re more than half way to being part of the scenery.”
“You can’t imagine how good that sounds. So, now I think I’m ready to hear about what happened to Lan. If you’re ready to talk about it.”
Storm sat back and looked out the window for a minute. She was just about to withdraw the question when he turned back to her.
“We’ve been hunting a big nest of vampire, practically a community. They’ve been doing stuff that’s out of character for vamps. Drugging women in bars and clubs with, ah, aphrodisiacs. Do you know what that is?” Elora nodded slowly without taking her eyes away from his. “I guess it makes it even easier to get women to leave with them quickly. No need to waste time with drinks and ploys.”
He looked up at Elora to see if she found the subject objectionable, but she was looking at him steadily, with interest. “Anyway, the short version is we came across a group of them. There was a difference of opinion about who was going to live and who was going to die. We took a lot of them out. They killed Lan.”
Looking down, he rotated his coffee cup a couple of turns. “One of the alarming things about this is that young vampire, under a hundred years old or so, are too blood-crazed for sophisticated operations like planning strategy. So there’s organization involved. And that is very unnerving.” He looked up at Elora. “The one of us hardest hit, although he doesn’t let it show, is Rammel because Lan was his partner.
And, I wouldn’t like for anyone else to know I said this, but a lot of people think of B Team as being…,” he paused, looking like he wasn’t sure he should continue, “...elite or some such nonsense. There’s a concern that it affects morale more than usual if one of us...”
Looking at this man who had spent so many hours selflessly trying to give comfort, she wished there was some way to repay that in kind. “I’m sorry.”
“Enough of that.” He pushed out his chair, got to his feet. “Tour bus is leaving.”
Storm spent the next couple of hours showing Elora the sights.
The unit was housed in a facility built after the model of the Pentagon, not in the sense of seven sides, but in the sense that the hexagon-shaped building surrounded and enclosed a large open area. In that opening, called a “courtpark” by residents and staff, were tall trees, garden walks with fountains, and picnic facilities. In the center was a rugby field with a track around it. There were no windows breaking up the plain, tan perimeter of the 1950’s style building. All windows, with the exception of the Chamber dome, faced the interior park.
The ground level featured a large circular foyer called the hub, a glass solarium, the main meeting room known as the Chamber, the infirmary, library, mail room, dining hall, a small grocery, a coffee bar, billiards room, and a country club style lounge with an oversized oak bar, card tables and plush seating set in small conversational groupings.
The media center, server rooms, offices, workout facilities, training simulators, firing ranges, classrooms, and laboratories were on lower levels. Apartments for the seventy-four personnel and trainees who lived and worked at the facility were on the higher floors. There were also two whister pads on the roof.
The building was home to twenty-four knights, twenty-four trainees, medical staff, teachers, administrators, clerical personnel, cooks, engineers, whister pilots, and maintenance crew.
Original funding for the organization had been generous, but two and a half centuries of well-invested funds had rendered a treasury that would be the envy of most small nations. Black Swan knights might live with their mortality hanging by a thread, but no luxury was spared their off duty hours.
She had seen part, but not all of Monq’s facilities. The biggest surprise was finding the boys in classrooms and tutelage, the fourteen to twenty-two-year-olds who fit the physical and psychological profile and might someday develop into the sort of exceptional person who expressed the traits of Black Swan knights. The boys looked at Elora with great interest, which was to be expected. Storm would have been worried about them if they hadn’t.