now in my care, it is also your free day.”
“Shouldn’t we go find Mouse then?” I said, the little girl still on my mind.
“We will meet her for dinner, but in the meantime I figure it might be nice to stretch your legs.” He pushed aside two large doors as we entered a cavernous room that had not been on the tour.
The walls were lined with weaponry from training batons to hand guns, even tiny silver throwing knives hung neatly in a row next to a larger blade resembling a machete. Huge bags, larger than me, hung from the arched ceiling and stalls lined the far end of the room, forming some kind of shooting range. In the center of the room was an elevated black mat, where two men now stood watching us. In fact, everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and were now staring at us.
“This is our training room.” Triven ignored the stares and continued to speak. “All residents are encouraged to train here once they are of age. Weapons must stay in this room at all times. Removing one will have dire consequences.”
A darker skinned girl at the firing range twitched the gun in her right hand as if she would have liked to use me for practice.
Or maybe it was just a nervous spasm.
As if reading my mind, her eyes narrowed. Raising the hand with the gun she fired at the target making five clean tightly placed shots.
Not nerves then.
After a moment, I noticed why she had fired with only one hand. Dangling where her left hand should have been was a gnarled stump. Apparently Doc Porter’s cell regeneration stuff could heal but not re-grow lost limbs. She must have been a Wraith or at least crossed one. Too bad for them she appeared to be a righty.
She laid down her gun and approached us with long strides. She might have been my age, maybe a little older, but she had almost a foot on me. Her long slender body was nothing but muscle. Her eyes were a rich brown. To any man she would have been attractive but to me she looked like a threat. Her expression was far from friendly.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” She was nearly as tall as Triven and more intimidating.
Triven merely shrugged. “Does it really matter? It’s my head not yours if she screws up.”
“You’d be wise to remember that.” Her chocolate eyes shifted to mine, sizing me up. “Hurt him and I will kill you myself.”
“Duly noted.”
She slammed into my shoulder as she pushed past us. It took all of my control not to jump on her back as she walked out. Several others followed closely behind her.
“Girlfriend of yours?” I glared after the tall girl.
“Archer? No, she’s just a good friend.”
“Nice friends.” I mumbled.
“Coming from the girl who has so many.” He laughed.
That brought me up short.
“So, what sounds good?” He raised his hands offering me the entire training room.
Was this another test? What better way to assess my skills than make it seem like basic training.
And I was skilled.
I had not survived Tartarus without training. Training I had traded a good deal for. But no one needed to know the full extent of my capabilities, not even my tender book-reading guardian.
“Knives?” I needed to prove I wasn’t afraid to touch the weapons here and that I wouldn’t turn on him. Besides, if he witnessed the incident in the alley when I saved Mouse, he probably already knew my skills with a knife.
Triven gestured for me to lead the way. Choosing the throwing knives, I collected six, offering him three.
“Ladies first.” He pointed to the target at the end of the room. It was nothing more than a block of wood with chunks carved out of it from repetitive target practice.
Cringing internally at his remark, I stepped in line with my target. I flipped the blade in my hand, feeling its weight, testing its balance. It was larger than the knives I usually carried. The hilt was heavy and unfamiliar in my hand.
Triven cleared his throat.
Resisting the urge to glare at him, I drew back
“Shouldn’t we go find Mouse then?” I said, the little girl still on my mind.
“We will meet her for dinner, but in the meantime I figure it might be nice to stretch your legs.” He pushed aside two large doors as we entered a cavernous room that had not been on the tour.
The walls were lined with weaponry from training batons to hand guns, even tiny silver throwing knives hung neatly in a row next to a larger blade resembling a machete. Huge bags, larger than me, hung from the arched ceiling and stalls lined the far end of the room, forming some kind of shooting range. In the center of the room was an elevated black mat, where two men now stood watching us. In fact, everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and were now staring at us.
“This is our training room.” Triven ignored the stares and continued to speak. “All residents are encouraged to train here once they are of age. Weapons must stay in this room at all times. Removing one will have dire consequences.”
A darker skinned girl at the firing range twitched the gun in her right hand as if she would have liked to use me for practice.
Or maybe it was just a nervous spasm.
As if reading my mind, her eyes narrowed. Raising the hand with the gun she fired at the target making five clean tightly placed shots.
Not nerves then.
After a moment, I noticed why she had fired with only one hand. Dangling where her left hand should have been was a gnarled stump. Apparently Doc Porter’s cell regeneration stuff could heal but not re-grow lost limbs. She must have been a Wraith or at least crossed one. Too bad for them she appeared to be a righty.
She laid down her gun and approached us with long strides. She might have been my age, maybe a little older, but she had almost a foot on me. Her long slender body was nothing but muscle. Her eyes were a rich brown. To any man she would have been attractive but to me she looked like a threat. Her expression was far from friendly.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” She was nearly as tall as Triven and more intimidating.
Triven merely shrugged. “Does it really matter? It’s my head not yours if she screws up.”
“You’d be wise to remember that.” Her chocolate eyes shifted to mine, sizing me up. “Hurt him and I will kill you myself.”
“Duly noted.”
She slammed into my shoulder as she pushed past us. It took all of my control not to jump on her back as she walked out. Several others followed closely behind her.
“Girlfriend of yours?” I glared after the tall girl.
“Archer? No, she’s just a good friend.”
“Nice friends.” I mumbled.
“Coming from the girl who has so many.” He laughed.
That brought me up short.
“So, what sounds good?” He raised his hands offering me the entire training room.
Was this another test? What better way to assess my skills than make it seem like basic training.
And I was skilled.
I had not survived Tartarus without training. Training I had traded a good deal for. But no one needed to know the full extent of my capabilities, not even my tender book-reading guardian.
“Knives?” I needed to prove I wasn’t afraid to touch the weapons here and that I wouldn’t turn on him. Besides, if he witnessed the incident in the alley when I saved Mouse, he probably already knew my skills with a knife.
Triven gestured for me to lead the way. Choosing the throwing knives, I collected six, offering him three.
“Ladies first.” He pointed to the target at the end of the room. It was nothing more than a block of wood with chunks carved out of it from repetitive target practice.
Cringing internally at his remark, I stepped in line with my target. I flipped the blade in my hand, feeling its weight, testing its balance. It was larger than the knives I usually carried. The hilt was heavy and unfamiliar in my hand.
Triven cleared his throat.
Resisting the urge to glare at him, I drew back
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