Thirst for Vampire - D.S. Murphy Page 0,15

but by the fifth day, I was well enough to go searching for some food.

The canteen seemed to operate on a barter system. People could haggle for a deal, or use credits, which were earned by doing chores or favors. Unlike the minted coins from the compounds with King Richard’s face on them, these were just small scraps of metal with an “H” stamped on them. My mouth watered at one stall that was cooking some kind of flat bread, with pork and a fried egg inside.

“Allow me,” Beatrice said, appearing at my side and pulling out her purse. She bought two of the rolls and sat with me at a table to eat them.

“How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“A little stiff, but fine,” she said. “It could have been a whole lot worse, if you hadn’t been there. Buying you lunch is the least I can do for saving me.”

“At least I did something right,” I said, “not that it’s earned me any favors. Jacob doesn’t seem to want me here.”

“What are you talking about, you just earned yourself one of Havoc’s famous delicacies. Plus, I hope, a friend.” She smiled and I studied her face. Dark freckles spread across her cheeks. She reminded me of my mother. Barbara, the woman who raised me.

“Well, when you put it that way…” I smiled. “Do you have people here? Family?”

“I had a daughter once, but she died. My husband was with the rebels who got captured after the attack on the citadel,” she said quietly. “I’m still hoping for him to return but, with each day, I know the chances are lower.”

My mind flashed to the slagpaw I’d strangled in the trials, or the one that attacked me in my chambers. I’d only been defending myself, but knowing that they’d been human once, that someone could be missing them, filled me with guilt.

“That’s terrible,” I said. “I’m… sorry.”

“We do what we must to survive,” she said.

I frowned, but didn’t argue. I didn’t know why they couldn’t just stay hidden, rather than going out and looking for trouble.

“Thanks for the meal,” I said. “Have you seen Trevor?” I asked finally, when we’d finished eating.

“Training, most likely. Upstairs and to the right, you can’t miss it.”

I heard the clash of iron long before I found the makeshift arena—a flat, oval space with walls, surrounded by seats. I stumbled over a discarded leather boot with a long blade attached to it. It reminded me of the roller skates we’d used in the park, but I couldn’t see how it would be much use on the cement floor.

Men were wrestling, fighting with swords, or using plastic mannequins as target practice. They’d been dressed in fancy suits and dresses, to represent the elite, apparently.

Camina and Marcus were sitting on the side watching the fighters. I joined them quietly, watching the lessons. Steve was teaching a class to a group of kids, some as young as Loralie.

“The best way to kill an elite is with a bullet to the brain,” he said, brandishing his pistol. “We’ve got tons of guns and ammunition. They’re old, but they fire straight enough if you keep them well-oiled and maintained. But, we only use them in an emergency. Can anyone tell me why?”

A young girl with pigtails raised her hand, but answered before being called on.

“They’re too loud,” she said.

“That’s right,” Steve smiled. Then he turned quickly and fired towards one of the mannequins, exploding its plastic head into chunks and ripping chunks out of the concrete wall behind it.

The children squealed and covered their ears, or laughed excitedly.

“Down here, the noise is mostly muffled, though we still limit our shots to conserve bullets. However up there, outdoors, the sound will carry for miles. The best way to kill an elite is a headshot, from a distance, with a scoped rifle. Take one out, as long as you don’t miss, and make sure he’s alone. Otherwise, his buddies will track you down and kill you; if a slagpaw doesn’t get you first. If you have to fire a gun outdoors, move to a new location as fast as possible.”

“What about arrows?” a young boy asked, eyeing the rack of bow to the side of the arena.

“A crossbow bolt or arrow to the heart will work, but you’d have to be at much closer range, and that kind of accuracy with a bow and arrow is goddamn legendary. They’re good for hunting small animals quietly, which is critical to our survival, but unreliable

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