Chapter Sixteen

I moved into a defensive stance in preperation for what I expected to be a bad fight for me.

The guy kept staring at me for a few seconds before, in a series of very quick motions, he put his glass down on the desk, stood, and began shouting at me in a language I didn't know. Something that sounded European.

When I stood there, bewildered looking, not responding to what I assumed was a question from him, he shouted again. This time in English.

"Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

His English carried a thick accent, and he really didn't sound like he was joking around.

"My name is Rose Hathaway. I'm new here. I was told earlier that there was always somebody in here. I figured maybe someone could give me some work, or something to help me sleep."

With a sigh, he sort of fell back into his office chair and leaned back, running a hand through his hair and scratching his head. Then, he looked at me over the monitors with a faint smile on his face, "Rose, do me a favor. Flip the lightswitch to your left there."

I turned around and hit the switch, it turned on a set of lights in the ceiling that gave off a soft glow, illuminating the room and giving me a better look at the guy in front of me and the room around him.

It appeared that the skin colour was only because of the lighting, because I could tell now it had a faint tan to it. His eyes also weren't red ringed like a Strigoi's, they were literally red coloured. He was dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had a large pair of headphones resting around his neck.

I surveyed the rest of the room. It was the same size as the office I'd been in earlier, with no windows. The walls were painted a dull grey colour, and nothing hung on them. Come to think of it, there was almost nothing in the room. Aside from the massive desk in the center with the computer and monitors, there was very little else of note. One chair sat on the left side, what looked like a thin layer of dust coating it. There was a mini fridge sitting on the floor just to the right side of the desk.

"Why don't you pull that chair over here and sit down. May as well have a chat while you're here."

As I brushed the dust off and dragged the chair the short distance to the desk, he finished his drink and leaned over to the fridge, " Would you like something?"

I was slightly surprised, "Uh, sure. Why not."

He opened the door and grabbed another glass out of it and sat it on the top. He pulled out a glass bottle with more amber coloured liquid in it and poured it into his glass. He looked at the bottle, then over to me, then shook his head and muttered something in what I presumed was his native language. He put the bottle back in the fridge and pulled out another one with clear liquid in it. He filled the glass about a third of the way with this then put it back. He withdrew another bottle, this one had something darker in it, and filled the glass another third of the way. He put the bottle back and pulled out two ice cubes, dropping them in the glass and handing it to me as he closed the door.

"Thanks." I looked at him with a smile as I took the glass and smelled it. It had a fruity sort of smell to it and as I took a drink, I noticed it was indeed fruit juice of some sort.

We both sat for a few minutes silently, slowly drinking what we both had. The silence started to bother me, so I began to open my mouth, but was cut off when he spoke first.

"Lukas Vaukena. My mother is German, I have no idea who my father is. I was born and raised in Sweden until I was old enough to be sent off to an Academy. I joined the Deathwalkers when I was 25 and that's about as much of my personal life as you're going to hear."

He began typing again as I decided to try and respond to what seemed like a very odd introduction from him, "And is there anything you'd like to know about me?"

"Rosemarie Hathaway, born to Janine Hathaway, currently a Guardian. Formerly a student at St. Vladimir's Academy in the United States. Friends with Vasilisa Dragomir since childhood despite no direct blood relation. No, there's nothing of interest here."

"How do you know all of that?"

"It's my job to know things. I hold the only real "desk job" here. I'm in charge of all the paperwork, so personnel files, transfer requests, supply orders. I joined to help some people that could actually use it, and to, if it's possible, meet a Moroi I could actually live with. Instead I get two reprimands and assigned this job in my first six months here."

He hung his head a little, obviously dissapointed with whatever had put him where he was now. "If you don't mind me asking-" I began.

"I don't," he interrupted, "First time it was during my advanced training, I got upset with my sparring partner and broke his arm and his nose. The head combat instructor showed her appreciation by breaking something of mine."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair again. "Do you hate her for doing it?"

He smiled and laughed, "To be honest, not at all. In fact, I would thank her for doing it if she ever spoke to me. It was only a matter of time until somebody kicked the shit out of me. I'm just happy it was her and she only broke my jaw." The smile faded from his face "Then, after I finished my training without getting killed or sent away somewhere else, I was put on patrol duty. See, this place doesn't have wards, the guard Captain prefers to do it the old fashioned way, so we run several groups of two Guardians each around the grounds that report on anything suspicious. Problem is, my partner was the same smartass I was sparring with in training. Long story short, he wasn't happy with me simply getting my jaw broken, so he tried to fight me, I broke both his legs, the Captain believed his story since I had almost no injuries, and I got sent here."

"I find that hard to believe. I mean, he seriously tried to beat you up and never got punished?"

"Well, not exactly. A week after he was posted back on duty, he went missing from his patrol. They spent four hours looking around and one team reported movement on the east side of the compound. They tracked their target down and shot at them, they collapsed. When the approached, the found out it was him. He'd taken two handgun rounds to the chest and almost died. Turns out he'd snuck off his route to take a break, and was on his way back when he got lost. He was dismissed and sent back to Court."

"I'll bet you were happy when that happend."

"Sure I was. For a while. Then I kind of wished he was still here. He probably got sent off to some post in the middle of nowhere, or stuck at a desk. And he didn't really deserve that. Take it from me, I know from fighting him. He wasn't a bad Guardian, he was just a fool sometimes and he made bad decisions."

Lukas looked at the center monitor, "Also, you'd better go and get some sleep. If you just got here, your training is probably going to start tomorrow."

I stood and set my glass on the desk, "Thanks for the drink."

He nodded and started typing as I walked to the door. I stopped in the doorway and looked back, "One more thing."

"What is it?"

"What's with the eyes? Those cannot be natural."

He shook his head, "I'm amazed you waited this long. It's usually the first thing people ask me. They're tinted contact lenses. My eyes are sensetive to light because I spend so much time in here, in the dark, staring at these things." He gestured to the monitors."

I turned to leave, ready to go and get some more sleep, but the cleared his throat, "Oh, one other thing from you, too."

I smiled, and looked at him, "What is it?" I laughed.

"Shut the lights off."

A/N: I have the rest of the story generally plotted out and I should be able to finish by the end of the summer if I write at a steady pace. That being said, I have a habit of neglecting things for long periods of time. I thank you if you've been patient with me so far, and I thank you even more if you continue to be so.