Here Be Sexist Vampires Read Free Page A

an outbuilding which, I soon realised, was actually an enclosed arena. Inside, the ground resembled a large horse paddock; a sandy floor with the letters A – D representing North, East, South and West.
    Also inside was a line of blokes. About fifteen in all.
    “Sam, you need to join the line,” said Sebastian. “I’ll be observing from there.” He indicated with his hand to what looked like a glass VIP spectators’ box. “Good luck.”
    And then Sebastian was gone, and I was alone. Alone because each and every one of the blokes looked at me like I was a leper when I joined the line. There were titters and snorts and whispers and gasps of amusement. I ignored it all and stood still, calming my irritated self and trying to anticipate what the test may be. Probably duelling, I decided.
    The only advice that Sebastian had given me was to wear something that would promote flexibility; hence why I was dressed in my black sweatpants, a white t-shirt with a white sports bra underneath, and my pump-slash-trainers. I’d tied my long dark hair back in a high ponytail to keep it from falling around my face.
    While I tried to get my head in the right place, another four blokes entered. They joined in on the ‘laugh at the girl’ crap. All in all now there were twenty of us. And I was the smallest. And the only female there. And the only Sventé there. Oh joy. Five were Kejas, the rest were Pagoris.
    After approximately a further ten minutes three blokes strolled in, all carrying an air of authority and power, and everyone immediately went silent. The interviewers, I guessed.
    The first was a Keja, extremely tall and bald with dark skin that had paled slightly due to the vampirism. He was all elegance and composure. The second was a well-built Pagori with a studious gaze and tousled auburn hair. At total variance to the first bloke, he was casually dressed in jeans and a ‘Life Sucks Then You Become a Vamp’ t-shirt. The third bloke was also a Pagori...and the sexist sod from earlier. He spotted me and smirked evilly. Ah crap. If the final decision came down to him I was definitely going back home.
    But I refused to be intimidated or made to feel unsure of myself so I straightened my posture and arched a sardonic brow at him. He didn’t like that, he looked away, sniggering.
    Folding his arms, he began pacing in front of the line of potential recruits as he spoke in an authoritative, clear voice, “Alright, everyone, listen up. I’m Commander Jared Michaels. Beside me are Commander Will Norton” – he gestured to the casually dressed Pagori who nodded wearing a half-smile – “and Commander Lou Sherman.” The Keja bloke also nodded. 
    Jared the Bigot continued, “As has already been explained to you, our Grand High Master wishes to replace his squad of ten that was recently annihilated. I will be commanding that squad.” He looked hard at me with those words as he passed. It turned out that he was, I’ll begrudgingly admit, just as appealing when dressed as when semi-naked. He was made even more alluring by that knee-length black, Matrix-style leather jacket he was wearing. Why couldn’t he be ugly? Then maybe need wouldn’t be tugging at me. Now that his hair was dry I could see that it was a lovely shade of chestnut. I’d love to rag every strand of it out.
    “There have been four other tryouts before this one,” he told us, “and I now have three spaces left to fill. Hopefully I will feel that three of you meet the criteria for the squad.” He halted in front of me as his gaze flicked over each vampire in the line except for me. “You’ve all been selected for one reason or another. Maybe it’s your strength, maybe it’s your fighting skills, maybe it’s your gift. But if you can’t control your bloodlust then all of that means nothing to me.”
    He signalled at someone sat above the spectators’ box and then suddenly gas began pouring out of hoses that were protruding from the roof. No, not gas.