Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [94]
“I have determined it is in the best interests of the House that your semiannual physical testing be held tonight.”
Stunned silence descended over the room, at least until the whispering started. The Novitiates’ quiet comments echoed my own: This wasn’t the time to take the House guards out of commission for a test. And even if we failed, who was going to replace us?
This had all the markings of an attempt to charge us as incompetent—or make me look worse than Frank already imagined I was.
Luc was the first to speak aloud. “You want to give them a test? That’s ridiculous. They need to be outside defending the House, not dealing with bureaucratic nonsense.”
“Fortunately,” Frank said, “I did not ask for, nor do I require, your opinion. As the GP has repeatedly attempted to drill into this House, this House and its operation is your primary—and only—concern. The complications of human existence are not.”
“As you and the GP are well aware,” Luc spat back, “the city is falling apart, one piece of real estate at a time, and you don’t think we need to be worried about that? You don’t think we need to be out there on the streets dealing with it?”
“Luc,” Malik said, putting a hand on Luc’s arm. “Not now.”
His words suggested Luc show respect for Frank, but his own emotions were clearly roiling. It was evident in the furrow of his brow, the tenseness in his posture and the vibration of tense magic from his corner.
The conflict Malik faced was obvious—to stand up for your guards and your second in command, or to obey the council responsible for your House’s existence and the protection of your vampires.
Sometimes, you had to lose the battle to win the campaign.
“Mr. Cabot,” Malik said into the tense silence. “Continue.”
Frank nodded pompously, but the rest of the vampires took Malik at his word, and immediately quieted. “As I was saying, you will be tested and evaluated in various forms of physical fitness and endurance. If you refuse to participate, you will be stripped of your position in the House. If you fail, you will be stripped of your position in the House.”
The room went deathly silent, all of us shocked. He looked up and looked right at me.
“You’re all rated Very Strong Phys. Let’s see if those classifications hold true.” Frank looked down at his watch. “You will begin . . .”
“This can’t be for real—” Kelley pleaded, but she was silenced by a withering glance from the narc.
“You will begin,” Frank said again, “now.”
Testing a vampire’s strength and endurance was tricky, especially if the vampires were guards of one of the nation’s oldest vampire Houses. We were obviously strong, fast, and flexible. We’d been trained in combat, both with and without swords, and we’d run our fair share of miles. We’d done thousands upon thousands of sit-ups and squats, push-ups, and chin-ups. The four of us probably could have exercised into infinity. But Frank wasn’t interested in infinity.
Frank was interested in what we could do right now on half rations of blood, measured by a testing regimen probably created in the 1950s. Our strength was tested by throwing giant iron balls and weights across the Cadogan grounds. One smashed window notwithstanding—they were really hard to aim—we managed to surpass his arbitrary milestones.
Our flexibility and speed were tested with jump ropes that we were expected to use with ever-faster repetitions. We belly-crawled across the backyard, flipped gigantic truck tires he’d hauled in for the task, and ran back-and-forth sprints until our legs felt like dead weight. He ordered us into the pool, freezing in the November chill, and made us swim laps until our skin was milky white and our teeth chattered from the cold.
We climbed out of the pool with soaked clothes and hair, steam rising from our bodies, and hatred of Frank growing in our hearts.
Frank carried around a clipboard and made notes as we worked through his drills, his gaze disdainful, as if we were failing in every respect to meet whatever mental criteria he