The scent of blood was everywhere. Rory and Benjamin's eyes were wild and they both heaved heavily from exhaustion and struggling to maintain control. 

Rory shook his head and snarled, blood lust and anger riddling every fiber of his body. He tensed and swiped a hand at Emer, his fingers out like claws in a pathetic attempt to keep her away. 

A grin cut across her porcelain face like the blade that cut across his skin. 

Why was she pushing them like this? Neither of them knew how to fight. Rory had swung a few punches and had his fair share of bar fights in the past, but he'd never been trained in combat. What was she hoping to gain from this?

He risked a quick glance at Benjamin who was cut up worse than he was. Each time Emer cut them, they seemed to heal slower. Rory's stomach rumbled and he sniffed the air, trying to catch a whiff of the guards. He just wanted to smell them...

He shook his head again and stomped his foot, like a bull in a fighting arena. That's what he was, wasn't he? An animal; a pet for her to toy with. 

Rory wasn't going to stand there and bleed for her entertainment. Even the guards had gone silent and watched in apprehension. Without a word, Rory sprang forward. Emer was gone before his feet left the ground, but he pursued. She was a flash, but then so was he.

Rory moved faster than he ever thought possible. By the time he'd decide to move somewhere, he was already there. At first he thought he might have been teleporting somehow, but soon realized he was simply moving that fast and without effort. 

Benjamin took his lead and took off, not as fast at first, but before he knew it, Benjamin was a black streak across the sparring ring. All three vampires were chasing each other around and only they were able to see it. To anyone else, they were almost invisible. 

Rory didn't miss the shuffle of feet and the clicks as weapons were raised and readied. Emer had flashed between him and Benjamin already, cutting them as she went, but on impulse Rory darted for the door. 

The smell of the guards, that salty scent of ham from their perspiration, was more than he could handle. Rory was across the gym and grabbed the first guard before he realized what he' was doing. 

The cold bite of a blade slithered across his neck, causing Rory to pause. His other cuts had all healed and had been annoying, but this cut bled hot as blood trickled down his throat. 

He held one of Stevenson's officers and it was Stevenson's blade that dug into him and kept him from healing. 

"I always found knives more effective than bullets," Lieutenant Stevenson told him calmly. "Emer and I have shared several years of removing heads together, but just because you're one of her brood doesn't mean I won't enjoy the spray of blood when this blade presses in deeper. Drop sergeant Han or I will cut your throat—and while you pathetically attempt to save every last drop from spilling out and drying you up—my team will riddle your body with poisonous bullets until I decide it's time to finally remove your head for fun."

Rory felt Benjamin tense, but when he glanced toward the silent figure of Emer, at the center of the sparring arena, he found no sympathy there. This had been a training session and a test—and Rory had failed. 

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