the length of the stick, she dropped the rag and tossed the hunting knife so its blade stuck into the dirt. Gripping the stick between the barbs she’d created, she dipped the barbs into another one of the pots she’d been using to create one of her potent mixtures.
“When the time comes,” she said, “this weapon will save your life. It will be an extension of your own body. It will be the only weapon you’ll need.” As she lifted the stick, a clear, glistening string extended from the barbs to the pot. It was broken by her finger, which she then used to smear the resin a few more places. “When the time comes, you’ll hold the weapon just like you showed me.”
“Those spikes are gonna get in my way,” Cole pointed out.
She looked up at him and nodded once.
He furrowed his brow and studied her face. He didn’t exactly like what he saw. “You want me to fit my fingers between the spikes?”
“The thorns will cut into your hands, but try not to think about that,” she explained as she handed the weapon to him. “It’s a necessary part of the process.”
Glancing between those thorns and Paige’s hands, Cole could see the thick layers of scars that marked her palms. He suddenly recalled seeing similar scars on the palms of almost every other Skinner he’d met. “I need to tear my own hands open every time I use this thing?” he asked.
Paige shook her head reassuringly. “Not every time. Trust me, it looks worse than it is. Just to get the feel of it, hold the weapon up like you’re blocking something.”
Tentatively placing his hands around the spot that had been carved into a rough grip, he felt the wooden barbs press against his palms. “When’s the first time I’m gonna have to do this?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Paige drew one of her clubs and cracked it against the middle of the stick, causing some of the thorns in Cole’s handle to snap against his hands. The rest pierced his flesh and dug into the meat of his hands.
“Holy…God…that hurts!” he moaned.
She dropped her club back into her boot and leaned forward to examine his hands. Just when it seemed that she was going to tend to his wounds, she pulled the weapon up from his palms and then forced it back down a bit farther. This time Cole was too shocked to make a sound.
“That’s not so bad,” she told him. “We got what we needed on the first try. I know someone who had to go four or five times before he got so much blood drawn.” As she spoke, Paige lifted the weapon until all the thorns came free of Cole’s hands. The ones that hadn’t snapped were coated with a slick layer of blood. A few of the broken ones remained lodged in his flesh.
Cole’s mouth hung open and he held his hands out. Most of the color had drained from his face as his fingers slowly trembled and curled in and out like squirming caterpillars. “What in the
Having already gotten herself situated on the ground with her legs bunched up beneath her, Paige dipped one rag into the second of her concoctions. “It connects you to your weapon. It’ll also toughen you up. Bring me the small vial on top of the case over there,” she said.
Cole pulled the largest of the broken splinters from his palm and flexed his fist to work the pain out. It stung like hell, but the pain was seeping into him and becoming easier to bear. After finding the vial she’d requested, he asked, “Do I want to know what’s in this?”
“Diluted Nymar venom. I’m going to mix it with your blood on these thorns so your weapon will bond to you and eventually respond to your commands.”
“What sort of commands?”
“One thing at a time, young one. Come over here and watch what I’m doing. You’re going to need to learn this.”
“What about the Half Breeds?” Cole asked.
“We’ve got another few hours before they wake up. I just hope to teach you a few basic moves before then.”
“How long before I need to fight?”
Paige looked up at the sky to check the moon and then looked at her watch. “Like I said…probably a few more hours.”
After modifying Cole’s weapon with her hunting knife, she tossed it back to him. Although the thorns on the grip were either cut off or trimmed down, the remaining ones were sturdier and a bit sharper than their bigger brothers. Cole listened as she gave a quick rundown of what she was doing.
“Something in Nymar venom allows them to control someone the way Misonyk controlled you,” she explained. “Basically, this resin mixed with a little diluted venom allows us to control our own weapons. It’ll only work for you, though. For everyone else, this’ll just be a stick.”
“And for me, it’s something that shreds my damn hands anytime I want to use it.”
Paige shook her head slowly. “The venom is diluted with Nymar saliva—”
“And it gets better!”
“That saliva,” she cut in, “has a weak healing property.”
“Healing?” Cole asked.
“Nymar can heal up their victims a little bit, just to make sure the throats get ripped open enough to feed but not enough to kill.”
“That’s nice of them.”
Meeting his eyes, Paige said, “A beating heart makes it easier for them to get more blood from the veins. That’s all there is to it. For our purposes, it keeps our hands from being ripped apart too badly. But,” she added as she held up her own hand to show him the scars on her palm, “it’s not perfect.”
Once the weapon was treated with the venom and another coat of the varnish, Cole was put through a few paces to practice using it. Thankfully, Paige allowed him to grasp the weapon with his fingers between the barbs instead of on top of them. He wasn’t allowed to bandage his hands, however. More blood needed to soak into the resin. Tightening his grip on the weapon, he got used to the feel of it as she slowly swung one of her clubs at him. The two weapons knocked together, allowing him to feel the sturdiness of what had so recently been a sapling.
“So how come my weapon isn’t half as cool as yours?” he asked.
Paige sped up her attacks and watched every one of Cole’s movements. “Because it’s not finished. Even so,” she added as she snuck in a lower swing, “it’ll never be as cool as mine.”
“Just because you’ve got some magic kind of wood that changes shape.”
“We’ll get to that part later. Right now, just try not to hurt yourself.”
They spent the next half hour with Paige attacking and Cole defending in one of two basic ways. After that, they switched roles and practiced for another hour with her showing him two simple ways to attack after each defense. When she finally called for him to take a break, he was ready to collapse.
“You ready to meet your first Half Breed?” she asked.
Cole tried to laugh but could only manage a few short-winded gasps. “Just as long as…you don’t expect me to…”
“Oh, you’ll be fighting,” she said before he could finish his sentence.
His mouth hung open but no words came out. After a bit of coaxing, he finally managed to spit out, “Unless a Half Breed is some sort of rabid dachshund, there’s no way I’m ready to fight!”
Even though she’d been working twice as hard as Cole throughout their sparring session, Paige was practically jumping out of her skin for more. “It’s not about the moves,” she told him. “It’s about the warrior’s spirit, remember?”
“I thought that was just inspirational bullshit.”
She shook her head as a hungry smile drifted onto her face. “The Half Breeds will be coming for us as soon as they wake up.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to do this. We’ve only been practicing for a couple hours. How good can anyone be after a couple hours?”
Paige eyed him for a few more seconds before easing up on her stance. “Fine. Would you feel better if I told you there’s a shotgun in the case behind me?”
“Is there?”
