Page 71 of Deck of Scarlets
“What if I stabbed someone behind me?”
“Don’t swing your arm back; keep it firmly at your side. It’s about control.”
I mimicked the movement, the dagger fumbling as I tried to adjust it until it matched Josh’s. “Like this?”
“Yes. Raise your arm so the handle is near your chin.”
Simultaneously, we lifted our daggers so the handles leveled with our chins, ready for battle.
“At all times, you should have this prepared. In this fighting stance,” Josh advised.
“Why the dagger?” I asked.
“The dagger is the signature weapon for a Scarlet. It’s sleek and lightweight. It’s also the weapon that was designed for the first.”
Juniper. I remembered her name from my first lesson with Father Benedict. She was the first to be blessed by the Lord and the first to slay a demon fallen from heaven to protect the vulnerable ones. She had become the anchor to our Order and the foundation of our powers. But none of the lessons had indicated that a dagger was the first. Then again, the records before could have been documented better after her journey to the convent, so I was interested to find out how he knew such valuable information.
“How do you know it was a dagger?” I questioned.
“Didn’t Father Benedict teach you the history yet?”
“We’re not that far.”
“Oh, that’s right. Thatcher made you start from scratch.”
I flipped the wooden dagger in my hand. “Yeah, before her tyrant of words about Grams.”
“Jealousy is the best form of flattery.”
“Except I have no idea why she loathed her so much.”
“A mystery not even I can help you solve.”
He grabbed a few more daggers from the bag and then went to the other end of the room and tapped his foot on the concrete. The floor separated, and up rose four dummies with bullseyes painted on their rubber chests. “You’re going to throw the dagger. You cannot leave until it hits the center.” For demonstration, Josh rejoined me on the other end, only to roll full body on the floor, throwing the dagger the minute he cleared his move. It soared through the air, landing perfectly dead center, the dummy swaying from being impaled.
My eyes bulged. Holy shit.
“Your turn,” he announced, moving off the mat.
Rolling my shoulders, I practiced the stance, not risking an injury by copying his maneuver. I cocked my arm back, about to release, when he tsked loudly with disapproval behind me.
“You’re doing it wrong,” said Josh.
I dug a shoe in the mat, frustrated. “Sorry, I don’t have years of experience like some people.”
“I cannot fault you for that, but I can fault you for not paying attention the first time,” he commented.
I gave him a dirty look. “You’re a shitty trainer.”
“Is that your defense? It takes some time to master your skills, regardless of the strength you were blessed with.” Josh trekked off the mat, wholly annoyed with my bratty attitude.
I stood there with my arms crossed, the wooden dagger draped over one, watching him take out another weapon, only this time the dagger was real.
“This,” he held it in front of my face, the shiny metal reflecting from the lights above, “will be given to you to train with once I see improvement.”
I rolled my eyes. “That could take months.”
Josh laughed and said, “Chop, chop!” clapping his hands for dramatic effect.