Ibenus (Valducan series) (42 page)

"I like it," Luiza said. "I really like it. A direct tip line."

Matt nodded. "I do, too." He looked at the keris. "You did well. I'm… I was wrong about you." He offered his hand. "I'm sorry."

"I am, too," she said, accepting it. A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, so old and familiar she hadn't realized how heavy the burden had become. She drew a breath, fighting tears. "Thank you."

"Just keep one thing in mind," Matt added. "If you break Allan's heart…"

The tears welled, threatening to run down her cheek. Allan, she couldn't wait to see him again. Victoria wiped her eyes. She hugged him. "You have nothing to worry about."

Matt squeezed her close, patting her back. "Then welcome to the family."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Victoria let out a grunt as she pulled the hard riding boot past her heel. They were definitely a lot more fun to take off than to put on. She stood and turned before the giant mirrored door in her bedroom, adjusting the band collar of the navy blue Nehru jacket.

"Ready?" Luiza asked.

Victoria eyed the gleaming breastplate in the knight's hands. Engraved parallel lines ran from either side, meeting at a V-point at the middle. Luiza's own armor was the same, although the metalwork along the collar was accented with copper and brass, signifying her higher rank. A small pendant hung prominently at the Brazilian's chest, a polished shard of jagged metal framed in twisting gold.

"Ready," Victoria said.

Luiza carefully lowered the clamshell plates over Victoria's head, then began adjusting the straps along the shoulders.

"I still say you should have gotten one with boobs," Sam said from beside the bed.

"It's meant to be practical." Luiza tightened the straps and the armor pressed Victoria's breasts toward the middle. While the higher hips were definitely femininely formed, there was nothing sexual about the armor's shape.

Sam snorted. "What's practical about steel armor? It's meant to look good so give it some tits, maybe even strapless."

Refusing to rise to the bait, Luiza rolled her eyes. She cinched the buckles along one side, forcing Victoria's posture even straighter. "How's that?"

"It's good," Victoria said, twisting a little.

"You get used to it quickly but you want to have it snug. Otherwise it starts rubbing."

"No it's fine." She turned to Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam looked down at Gabi, sitting in the plastic walker Schmidt had bought her. "Uh-huh. I concur." She nodded. "You look like a badass."

"Perfect."

Luiza glanced back at the bedside clock. "Go ahead and put Ibenus on. It's almost time."

Removing a sapphire blue sash from the back of a chair, Victoria wrapped it around her armored waist and strapped it down with a belt in the fashion Allan had shown her. Once secure, she removed Ibenus from his stand and slid him into the tooled leather scabbard.

That done, Luiza draped a matching blue cape over Victoria's back, affixing it to the door knocker rings at the shoulders. Victoria checked the mirror again and gave an approving nod. Badass was an appropriate term. She turned, smiling as the cape whirled with the motion.

"You look great." Luiza affixed her own cape and knelt before Gabi. "Mommy will be back in a bit." She kissed the toddler on the head. "Be good."

"Oh we'll have fun," Sam said. "Maybe play with Tsel while Chaya's busy." The Malinois pup had caused quite a stir since Chaya had bought it. It had only taken two days to win Orlovski over.

Sam gave Victoria a hug. "You look great."

"Thanks."

"I expect you upstairs once this is done. Just because you're a knight doesn't mean we don't hang out any more."

Victoria grinned. "I'll be there."

"I'll have funtas ready."

"I can't wait."

Luiza opened the bedroom door. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They left the room and headed down the empty halls, side by side, capes billowing. The only eyes watching the display were those of the painted dead, staring down from their portraits. Despite the regal appearance, a familiar and almost forgotten fear seemed to roll over inside Victoria's mind. Was she sure about what she was doing?

Yes
, she assured herself, banishing the silly thought.
Ibenus chose me for this
.

They turned down another hall. A pair of tall candle holders framed an arched door. Orlovski stood outside it, wearing his own armor and cape with Amballwa at his waist. Victoria couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the perfect crispness to his uniform was unbelievable, like he was born for it. Seeing their approach, the Russian nodded, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

They stopped before the door, Luiza to her left. Like all the others in the mansion, the handle was encrusted with various gems and metal studs. But unlike those, the door itself wasn't modern. The dark iron-shod wood looked to have come from some ancient church or fortress, something meant to stop invaders. Rounded scars and impact dents alluded that it might have once served that very function.

Victoria swallowed. Despite her resolve, a nervous tingle played along the inside of her ribs. Before any doubts could surface the door opened, swinging wide.

Candlelight filled the room, casting everything in a yellow glow like in an old photograph. Orlovski stood at the edge of the door, chin high and eyes staring straight before him. Chaya stood to his right in the same statuesque pose, the hilt of her sheathed scimitar jutting out a little. Matt, to her right, then Luc and Malcolm completed the line. Beyond them, Masters Turgen, Schmidt, and Allan stood at the rear of the room before a white and gold banner, facing the door. Their heavily engraved breastplates glinted in the flickering light and their own cloaks were the same vibrant green as the emerald rings they wore. Schmidt wore his sword, but Turgen and Allan had none. Allan winked as their eyes met.

Luiza stepped forward and Victoria quickly followed, keeping pace. It smelled of frankincense and a strangely bittersweet aroma she couldn't place. The heavy incense smoke cast ghostly coronas around the dozens of candle flames. Passing the line of knights, Victoria couldn't help a sidelong glance, noticing the orphaned weapons from the vault proudly displayed along the wall across azure velvet.

The door groaned and thudded closed behind them and Luiza and Victoria halted before the green-clad Masters. The gilded and embossed image of a sword with a wide, tapered blade decorated Turgen's breastplate. A longer, cruciform sword decorated Schmidt's, its shape and octagonal pommel an exact replica Lukrasus. Ibenus' bowed shape gleamed from Allan's chest. The banner behind them depicted the familiar eight-pointed star, its bladed points barely protruded out from the enclosing ring.

Turgen narrowed his eyes accusingly, all grandfatherly friendliness gone. "Victoria Martin," he rasped, his voice loud as if he were speaking before a parliamentary hearing, "you stand before us, seeking entrance into our order. Do you choose this of your own free will?"

"I do."

"Who among our family speaks for this woman?"

"I speak for her," Allan said.

"Master Havlock," Schmidt said, eyes still locked on Victoria, "is this woman truly wed to a divine instrument?"

"She is."

"Have you taught her what sacrifices this vow demands?"

"I have."

"Do you find her intentions pure?"

A moment's grin pulled at Allan's lips, breaking the somber expression. "I do."

Victoria pursed her lips, fighting her own smile. There were some impure intentions for later on, she knew.

"Do you find her worthy of our order?" Schmidt asked.

"I do."

"Swear it on Ibenus."

Allan placed his hands on the gold khopesh on his chest. "On Ibenus, I find her worthy of our Order and worthy of my own divine instrument."

Schmidt gave an approving nod and Luiza stepped back, leaving Victoria alone before the Masters.

Turgen, who hadn't removed his cold gaze from Victoria during the exchange, addressed her again. "Draw your charge and kneel, Victoria."

She slid Ibenus from his scabbard and carefully lowered to the floor, a move made difficult by the rigid armor and hard boots. Knees on the unforgiving tile, she met the master knight's eyes.

"Victoria Martin, do you vow to protect your charge with your very life, to hold his well-being before your own?"

"On Ibenus, I swear it."

"Do you vow to protect the other divine weapons, holding their safety above your own?"

"On Ibenus, I swear it."

"Do you vow to protect the Order, and its secrets?"

"On Ibenus, I swear it."

"Do you vow to protect your brother and sisters even at the cost of your own life?"

"On Ibenus, I swear it."

Turgen lifted his gaze to the room. "My brothers and sisters, you have heard this woman's professions. If you accept them, seal her vow with your own."

Master Schmidt drew his sword. The faint rasp of another sounded at Victoria's back. Lifting the sword, the old man stepped forward and lowered it, resting the blade on Victoria's shoulder. Other blades came down as well,
tinking
as metal met metal. Luc's heavy mace head came down last, one of its iron flanges gently prodding Victoria's neck.

Hand on Schmidt's shoulder Allan took a step. The first step she'd seen him take since his injury. He'd refused to wear the temporary prosthesis around her until now. Releasing his hold, he lowered his hand and placed it on Victoria's head.

Master Turgen came last, resting his hand beside Allan's. "The Order of Valducan accepts you into our fold. Rise, Lady Victoria Martin, Protector of Ibenus, and embrace your new family."

The weapons still upon her, Victoria slowly rose to her feet. She nearly stumbled but a hand from behind caught her and helped her up. The weapons withdrew and Turgen stood before her.

The old man smiled proudly. "Welcome, Sister."

"Thank you, Brother."

Tears framed Allan's eyes. He swallowed and wrapped his arms around her, their breastplates softly thudding. "I love you, Victoria."

Victoria held him tight, her cheek against his. She closed her eyes, savoring the energy knitting between them, unhindered by the steel armor. "I love you, too."

Epilogue

"Do you know where Kerri went?" Abby asked, her already high-pitched voice rising above the chaos. Girls giggled and chatted all around them. A pack of scowling parents circled an instructor, speaking in raised, accusing whispers. Hip hop blasted through the ballroom door as someone stepped inside.

Dodging a line of Junior dancers in matching tuxedo leotards and top hats, Mei shrugged. "I think Missus Connolly asked her to help with the Jazz team."

"You want to get some food?"

A pack of young women filed out of the dressing room ahead. Their matching turquoise T-shirts read, 'D-Lite Studio - Chicago.' Tara Isom, her blonde hair wound in a tight bun, led the tittering herd, the others orbiting around her.

Damn it
. Mei looked away. She wasn't in the mood for shit-talking right now. It was their last year to make it to Nationals and Tara was dead-set to dole out a lifetime's supply for their final competition.

"Aw crap," Abby muttered. "She's coming this way."

Mei spied the open door to the right, a familiar three-color logo of an elongated blowing leaf beside it. Head low, she made a B-line for the safe haven. She slipped inside, escaping the noise and gym sock stink that permeated every other corner of the convention center.

Rows of glass cases lined the meeting room's wall, each displaying a collection of antique armor and weaponry. The miniature museum was weird. Normally all the outer rooms were reserved for dressing and green rooms, but not this one. El Sable Energy Corporation, the event's largest sponsor, had brought the exhibit. Whatever medieval weaponry had to do with dancing or South American wind farms Mei had no idea. But it had instantly become her favorite place in the entire event—an island of calm and mystery among the chaos.

A few parents, mostly dads, strolled the aisles, their eyes moving across the artifacts without really seeing them. If they had, they'd be at the back corner. As if on auto-pilot, she wandered deeper, knowing where she was headed, even though she hadn't planned it.

Abby blew a sigh. "I think she's gone. You want to get food now?"

"That's okay." Mei waived dismissive hand. "You go on. I'll catch up."

"What? No come on. I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

Passing a long case containing a gold-encrusted conquistador helmet, Mei stopped before a standing suit of polished, but dented armor. A card along the side explained that it was relic from the Second Crusade. "I am. Just give me a few minutes, all right?"

Abby huffed. "What is it with you? This is our last year and you're obsessing over this shit. Come on. We're eighteen and in Vegas."

Ignoring the armor, Mei gazed at the simple broadsword before it. "I'll find you in a bit. See if you can find Kerri and we'll go out."

Abby gave one of her trademark growls.

"I'll meet you at the front in twenty minutes," Mei said, eyes still on the sword, but could see Abby's reflection behind her in the glass. "Promise."

"Fine." Abby tucked a blonde strand behind her ear. It fell out almost immediately. "Twenty minutes." She spun with a dramatic flourish and strode away, leaving Mei alone with the beautiful sword.

She couldn't say what it was that drew her to it. Most of the others were far more decorative, with etched gold and silver accents. But something about the simple elegance of this one enchanted her. The straight tapered blade, the rounded crossbars—it was pure function. The only adornment was the octagonal knob capping the cord-wrapped handle.

Mei knelt, leaning closer until her breath fogged the glass. What type of sword was this? There was no card saying where it was made or anything about it, only the armor. She closed her hand, remembering the feel of it in her dream last night after she'd first seen it.

"Something catch your interest?"