beats per minute Page 9

  Somehow Max Savage had a way of speaking that made Raegan feel totally inadequate; lulling her into a false sense of security before delivering his critique with curiously brutal detachment. The surgeon’s soothing words before the cold sting of the needle - designed to imply, seemingly, that it was all her own fault.

  But it worked. Even though a minute ago she had been dismissing his words as ludicrous, she now burned with humiliation and a sudden, desperate urge to prove herself. He had made it impossible for her not to want to train. She wanted to believe that she was capable of everything he described.

  ‘You will learn to master the clock through dominion over yourself. Your heart, first and foremost; it beats in tandem with the clock. Control your bpm and you will control time. But it doesn’t end there. You will discipline your body. And your brain. There are no training methods more rigorous or successful than those we employ here.

  ‘The Sentinel keeps a close eye on all Regents from their birth – oh, we have our ways,’ he added, seeing the curiosity in Raegan’s eyes, ‘that is, all the Regents we know about. Your parents went to some extraordinary measures to keep you from us.’ His voice was light but Raegan felt a shiver go down her spine. ‘Still, you don’t choose this life, it chooses you; and the Sentinel was formed primarily to help develop and nurture each generation of Regents. We get a new batch of recruits each September, all on the cusp of turning sixteen. Sometimes parents like to send their children before, but we don’t begin the mandatory training until then.’

  ‘And the training lasts a minimum of five years, after which you can do as you please,’ Con added.

  ‘Well,’ Max shrugged, studying his beautifully manicured fingernails. ‘In theory. Once you have achieved what is known as Level 5 status, your training is complete - but most of our Regents either choose to remain working as part of a Unit, even remaining here on Unit Prime, or else are assigned an area in the field to defend. When you are stationed in an area, you are responsible for protecting it, but you can also be involved in other activities – hobbies, relationships, even a career.’

  Raegan sensed it was not the time to ask about those Regents who opted not to remain on active duty. Instead, clearing her throat, trying to remain calm – five years! – she asked, ‘And when do we get to hunt the Fay?’

  Max chuckled; a rolling, delighted sound. ‘It’s good to hear you sounding so keen, Raegan. However, I might recommend you to hold your horses, particularly in light of your earlier success.’ The laughter left his face, like night sweeping over a bright sky. ‘The Fay are deadly creatures; aggressive, merciless, and desperate to prolong their existence. They also love the hunt. Their skill is not to be underestimated: apart from also being able to mould time as you will learn to, they are strong and fast. Most importantly, there is nothing they love more than to feed off a Regent. Your essence, so much brighter than a normal human’s, is irresistible to them.’

  He got up. ‘I’ll show you.’

  There was a rushing howl; the lights flickered; Con turned as if he was about to say something to her; and suddenly she was on the floor, and Max’s knee was pushing her head to one side. The angle of her neck was agony, she thought it might break; then stars exploded behind her eyes. She felt herself choking.

  Then Max was standing behind his desk again, straightening his tie. Raegan rolled onto her front and retched, her eyes watering fiercely, her stomach heaving.

  The veins in Con’s neck were bulging. She realised that he had knocked over his chair in a violent motion; she had never seen him look so angry.

  ‘How dare you,’ he howled. ‘You never touch her again, or so help me, Max.’

  ‘It was necessary,’ Max said gently. ‘Calm down, Con.’

  ‘Why?’ Con’s booming voice filled the room. ‘I ought to throw you out the damned window. I brought her to you in friendship, Max, against the wishes of my son, because I thought she needed help. I won’t have you harming a hair on her head.’

  A dangerous light flared in Max’s eyes. ‘You don’t tell me how to run things, Conall. It was your family’s meddling in Sentinel affairs that caused this mess.’

  With a roar, Con picked up his glass and threw it against the window. The window did not even judder, but the glass smashed into a thousand shards which rained down upon Max. He did not wince. Con advanced slowly.

  ‘By all means, keep moving closer,’ Max said silkily. ‘Keep pushing me, and we will finally test who is more dangerous in a fight – an Eagle, or a master Regent.’

  Raegan could only watch as Con’s eyes began to roll in his head. There was a ripping sound, and an awful fear paralysed her as it seemed the dark tweed of his jacket was morphing, rising like a jagged volcano. Then she looked closer. The jacket was ripping apart, not moving upwards; dark brown feathers, like shoots through earth, were beginning push their way through the seams of his jacket. His body started to tremble, and Max, as if answering some unspoken question, fell into a fighting stance, his legs spread and slightly bent, his chest forward, his arms outstretched. Fire crackled in his eyes; and Raegan recognised the low, thrumming howl of wind that had accompanied all those incidents when time had seemed to warp in front of her.

  Hastily, she heaved herself to her feet. ‘No!’ She croaked, throat sore and tight with terror. ‘Please stop! I understand what Max did – he was showing me what the Fay could do to me and how I wouldn’t be able to defend myself! I’m not hurt. Please, Grandda, don’t do this!’ Her voice cracked on the last word, but she forced herself to keep moving forward, until she was between the two men, the enormous heat of energy bursting from them nearly preventing her.

  Still they stared at each other, anger blazing. And then a curious thing happened. The longer she looked at them, the more her fear ebbed away, and a heated irritation at their pigheadedness began to rise.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ Her hands formed furious fists by her side. ‘Grandda, you told me to trust you. And earlier you wanted me to calm down! Now look at you, fighting like an idiot! And you-‘ she rounded on Max. ‘You greeted Con like an old friend, and he just let you get on with it, even when you had a go at me. He’s my grandfather, my blood, maybe it’s not surprising that he got upset. You’re supposed to be the head of this mighty Unit, where you do such ‘crucial’ work. So what’s your excuse?’

  It was as if previously she had been held in the grip of his power; even when she’d been scared, time had ceased to react to her mood as it had before. Now, as their eyes locked, she felt as if something shattered around her. She was achingly aware of her bpm. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her vision began to fluctuate; then, it was joined by another, slower heartbeat, and it felt as if that heartbeat was trying to overpower her own, to will it to match its tempo. She didn’t know why or how, but, lost in concentration, the brown eyes before her blurring into darkness, she fought it; she commanded her heart to continue at its own pace. Max’s eyes widened slightly, and, for a second, she felt the second heartbeat jump, increasing in pace. Then his eyes narrowed and the heartbeat grew steady once more. The next moment he had broken eye contact and moved away from her.

  She collapsed forward, the energy which had been keeping her centred now broken. Her hands stopped her from falling and she clutched the end of the desk. Max’s control had been imposed once more, for though her heart was jumping erratically inside, the atmosphere was smooth and unflustered.

  Con’s hand was on her back. When she turned to squint up at him, chest heaving, he looked as calm and unruffled as if the past few minutes had never happened.

  ‘No feathers,’ she managed, nodding at his jacket.

  A tiny smile appeared on Con’s face. ‘No feathers.’

  Max, who had been looking out of the window, turned back to them. He, too, was outwardly serene; only his long fingers, tightly clenched around the whisky glass, betrayed him.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Me too.’ Raegan was still tryin
g to catch her breath. ‘But can we call a truce now?’

  Now Max really did smile; the dimples that cut into his cheeks were so long that the effect was almost goofy. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ He gestured for them to sit down again, and then nodded at Con. ‘No hard feelings?’

  ‘You’re alright,’ Con said gruffly.

  All at once the tension drained away. Max stifled a chuckle. ‘What a couple of old fools.’

  ‘Speak for yourself.’ Con retorted good-naturedly. They regarded each other without malice. After a pause, Max spoke.

  ‘Well, Raegan, that was quite something.’ He looked at Con. ‘She fought me, you know.’

  ‘I expect she gave you a run for your money.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ A hint of Max’s old hauteur surfaced. ‘Still, you’ve got spirit, girl; and for a novice, there was a kind of grace to your efforts.’

  ‘Thanks, I think.’ Raegan quirked an eyebrow. ‘I suppose I should apologise for having a meltdown – for another ‘teenage melodrama’?’

  Max raised a finger. ‘Not at all. You were whining before, like a little kid; I almost expected you to stamp your foot. What you did just then was to show courage. Nothing wrong with that. We can use that.’ He leaned back in his chair, resting his fingers underneath his chin. ‘We’re going to have to work on your conduct, of course. If you can’t bite your tongue around your tutors there’ll be hell to pay. But I like your sass. I think you could do well here.’

  ‘That’s quite a compliment,’ Con said gently. He looked pleased as punch.

  ‘Yes, well, don’t let it go to your head.’ Stretching over, Max pressed a button and then spoke into his phone. ‘Send them in.’ He looked up. ‘This is where it gets tough.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Raegan pushed her hair out of her eyes, hoping that that same hand was not trembling.

  ‘You’ll see. Like I said, our year proper begins in September, so you’re late. The majority of the Unit are training at one of our other bases – we like to keep everyone on their toes by going on excursions from time to time, mix up the climate, the terrain, etc. You’ll have the run of the compound for at least six weeks – I’m sure you’ll find it suitable. We have everything you need right on this fort: the most sophisticated equipment, and some impressive facilities both in and out of doors. We even have our own forest and obstacle course.’

  ‘A forest? That’s... how? I mean, from the helicopter the Unit looked big and everything, but not that big.’

  Max chuckled indulgently, which Raegan found a bit patronising. It was a good point. The Unit didn’t look that big. ‘There is a certain amount of magick at play. Our interiors are carefully disguised from the outside, and the walls of the compound are extended and masked through some clever distortion techniques. Did you notice the crystals?’

  ‘Yes! I was going to ask-‘

  ‘Protective enchantments. They create a sort of forcefield to keep our untrained cadets in check. With time being linked to heartbeat you can’t be too careful – particularly with hormonal teenagers around!’

  ‘But there aren’t any crystals in here?’

  ‘I require no such protection.’ Max’s voice was smug.

  ‘Forget that for now; it’s nothing you need concern yourself with. You’ll soon find your feet. Like I said, most of our cadets will be absent for the next month or so but a few of the officers and senior Regents in training will give you an intensive induction.’

  She couldn’t stop herself frowning, any more than she could stop the questions forming on her lips. ‘Sorry if I’m being thick, but if most of the Unit are at another base, who are all the commandoes?’

  ‘That’s not ‘thick’ at all,’ Max replied delicately. ‘Good question. Those that you see in army uniforms are what we call Skippers – not gifted. They come from the various families that the Regency passes down through, but it’s skipped their generation. Still, they’ve dedicated themselves to the Cause, and we’re grateful to have them.’

  The lift pinged and Raegan and Con swivelled in their seats because Max’s concentration was instantly focused on the opening doors. Out stepped a man and a woman, entering the room with purpose and familiarity. The self-assurance that radiated from them was amazing to Raegan. They couldn’t be more than twenty or twenty-one, she guessed; only a few years older than herself and yet light-years ahead in confidence. They were dressed exactly the same, head to toe in sleek black – zip up, funnel necked jackets and fitted trousers – with the holsters attached to their waist and thighs providing the only bulk: but they couldn’t have looked more different. The man was imposing, with black, unruly hair, glinting eyes, and slightly tanned skin. He could also give Con a run for his money in terms of size; Raegan estimated he had to be at least six feet four inches tall, and he was built like a wall. The woman was probably a foot shorter, with a curvy, athletic figure, delicately patrician features and glossy brown hair in a long plait down her back.

  On the other hand, they matched each other in both attractiveness and the fierce scowls which stretched their faces.

  ‘Bree, Warwick. News?’

  ‘Mission accomplished. Standard disposal. ’ The woman’s voice cut through the air like a knife through butter, and Raegan was suddenly reminded of newsreaders on BBC Radio 4. The newsreader suddenly lost her sense of propriety, though, voice sinking to mutter: ‘Of course, we wouldn’t have taken quite so long if it wasn’t for some people.’

  The man bit in immediately, his southern drawl leaping with agitation. ‘Oh, sure, like your shoddy piloting had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘To what are you referring?’ Bree said icily.

  ‘Sir,’ Warwick turned to Max, ‘You might want to instruct one of the Skips to take a look at Chopper 5 – I think they’d find there’s a dent on the right hand side and that the aileron may well be missing.’

  ‘That was probably caused by your friendliness with the trees on the way down! We practically crash landed...’

  Max let them continue for a few seconds before halting their argument as swiftly as a pin popping a balloon. ‘Enough. Why you think I’d be interested in these childish details, I have no clue. Do you have anything useful to report? Not that your little bout of foreplay wasn’t simply scintillating – but some of us have real work to do.’

  They felt silent, though Bree’s expression was mutinous.

  Warwick hid his frustration a little better. His voice sounded almost normal when he finally replied. ‘Subject was found in the same bar as reported. We tracked him separately. I arrived just after Clifton engaged the subject.’ After a second, he added, grudgingly, ‘She had him very well under control.’

  The conversation continued in a similar way for several minutes. The details were hammered out quickly, in a shorthand that was impossible to understand; Raegan heard the words ‘brain’ ‘body’ and ‘heart’ more than once, but these familiar words were used in the most unfamiliar way. In the end she worked out that the pair had been sent somewhere to capture an enemy. They had succeeded.

  Gradually she had the growing sense that several pairs of eyes were now focusing on her. She looked at Con first, and then Max, embarrassed to have been caught out.

  ‘I asked you if you were happy,’ Max was smiling again.

  ‘About what?’ Raegan had no choice but to be honest.

  ‘Why, I would have thought that was obvious. Bree and Warwick took care of your little problem, after all.’

  Eventually Bree took pity on the still-clueless Raegan. ‘The Fay that called itself Christian. It’s no longer a threat.’

  ‘No longer a threat.’

  ‘Correct. We disposed of it.’

  Raegan felt slightly sick.

  ‘The Fay put up quite a fight,’ Max said gently. ‘Lady Bree Clifton and Mr James Warwick, here, are two of our most senior cadets – level 5s. And it wasn’t easy for them to subdue this Fay, even fighting two against one.’ He addressed Con. ‘Which mea
ns that Raegan is either in possession of one remarkable latent talent or one helluva lucky streak. Escaping Christian unscathed was certainly no mean feat.’

  Raegan was getting a bit fed up of them talking about her like she wasn’t here. She wanted to ask more questions about what exactly had happened to Christian, and how they had overpowered him; and then Warwick spoke, and Raegan was reminded that this was not an open forum.

  ‘He was a nasty son of a bitch. But we got him in the end.’ His voice was cocky with satisfaction; but the grin had not even fully formed on Warwick’s face before Max weighed in.

  ‘That’s enough.’ Their leader’s tone was acidly crisp. ‘You forget yourself. ‘

  Suitably cowed, Warwick nodded wordlessly.

  ‘Leave us.’

  The perfect soldier once more, with ramrod straight posture, Warwick walked briskly to the lift. Bree made to follow but Max halted her.

  ‘Lady Clifton.’ Her lips twitched at the term of address, and Raegan wondered if it was a private joke, or maybe even an insult.

  ‘Yes.’ Bree turned to face them, coolly. ‘Can I be of service, sir?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Max’s eyes twinkled as if he was smiling, though his face was outwardly unchanged. ‘Miss O’Roarke will be staying in Block 4, room 12, for now. You can take her to her quarters.’ Max got to his feet and gestured for Con and Raegan to do the same. ‘Though the temptation to chat with your escort might be strong, I would highly recommend you go to sleep as soon as possible, Raegan. The morning bells are rung each morning at 6am sharp.’ He consulted his watch. ‘Excellent. That gives you at least four hours, which is quite sufficient.’

  Raegan stared at him dumbly.

  ‘Your things will be waiting for you in your quarters.’ When Raegan failed to respond, Max’s eyes softened slightly. ‘There’s no need to be alarmed. You’ll find everything you need in your room. All you need to concentrate on now is saying goodbye to your grandfather, and then getting some rest.’