Page 34 of Son of a Witch

“Weapons? Martial arts?” I clarified, my voice steely.

Serena selected the rune projector. “Stakes. I wanna assess your aim.”

I smirked. Really? “Haven’t you read our file? My team has the best aim in this place.”

“Myteam now.” Serena reinforced it with a cocked“prove it”eyebrow at me. Arrogance or hostility wouldn’t get her to bite. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Loco loaded up his weapon and started shooting.

None of the team responded to her order, which filled me with wicked glee. We’d see who won here. I glanced at each of them, nodding, letting her know that she might have the title, but I had the majority of power.

Lined in a row, our projectors strapped onto our wrists, Astra, Pascal, Tor and I squared up, ejecting stakes, one at a time. Runed weapons hit the troll’s skin in the chest, making it sizzle and steam. Tor struggled a little because he couldn’t get the position right in his chair, but his aim was still on point, striking the eighty percent mark.

“Excellent.” Serena plucked out the stakes, returning them to the storage shelves at the back of the room. “Let’s see a demonstration of your magic.”

“Again, in the files.” I gritted my teeth. Why did she need to see it in action? We were competent. Effective. Efficient. Deadly. This formality was annoying and unnecessary.

“I don’t care what’s written in the files.” Serena’s words came out with force and fire. “I want to know you’re not going to get me killed.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got, then,” I challenged.

Jaw tight, she moved to the shelves and snapped on a projector, then spun around, hitting three shots in a row in the troll skin’s forehead. Impressive accuracy, rivaling Pascal’s. “Happy?”

Normally, Tor would diffuse the tense situation with a joke but he slouched in his chair, bored, broody, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Loco jumped in instead, leveling me with an unimpressed glare. “Can we move on from the pissing contest and get on with it? I’m dying to get out of this place and back into missions after being locked up for almost ten years.”

“Staves,” Serena kept her voice level when I would have barked at everyone. The woman was one cool cucumber under pressure. Reminded me of Raze in a way.

Again, my team didn’t move, waiting for me. “Move,” I told them, and they obeyed.

Loco stood to the side with Serena, watching, while I was matched with Pascal and Astra paired with Tor. Pascal and I got into it, hard, heavy, slamming each other, blocking, twisting, tangling, grunting. The room echoed with our effort. Sweat built as we battled it out, Pascal a worthy and fierce opponent. Astra took it easier on Tor, striking soft little taps, but he struggled to lift his arms and hold the stave, ending up tossing his aside, frustrated. She tried to comfort him, but he wheeled to the room’s corner, setting his chin on his fist. Serena motioned for her pair up with her father.

“I warn you,” he said, “I’m a bit rusty.”

Perfect. Astra was strong, fierce, but not ferocious like Raze, cunning like Tor, or accurate like Pascal or me. But she had plenty of tension to work out, and she let her dad have it, pushing him to the corners of the mat, and making Serena jump out of the way.

“Not gonna go easy on your old man, huh?” Loco joked, blocking a swift and furious attack. “Got something you want to say, kid?”

“I hate this fucking place!” Astra panted each word as she swiped at him, and he barely deflected the blows. I contemplated stopping to watch her, but I didn’t’ give Serena the satisfaction. “I want out. We want out. I’m sick of the bullshit. Politics. Gangs. Danger. Losing my man! Finding my dad after eighteen goddamm years. Tor in ….”

“That’s enough!” Serena’s voice held the weight of a god about to unleash thunder. “Put your weapons away.”

Pascal and I bowed at each other out of respect for sparring.

Tor brushed his hands over his face. Fuck. Why’d Astra have to say that? Remind him of the shit he was in. He struggled every day to adjust to his new circumstances. Sometimes I wished I could plug the things spewing from my woman’s mouth.

“Brian, I want you here training to get up to speed.” The order sat like an explosive about to go off.

“That’s not my name anymore, Miss. Serena,” he bit back.

“I’m not calling you a ridiculous nickname,” Serena shot back, escalating the already precarious tension.

Loco muttered something under his breath, but got to work, practicing moves. Sweeping blows, blocking attacks, jabs, and more.

Tor grabbed and twirled a stave in his hand but kept dropping it. When Astra went to pick it up, he growled at her, “No. Leave it.” She backed away, rubbing her hands.

Pascal swooped in, retrieved it, and set it in Tor’s palm. “Don’t talk to her like that when she’s trying to help.”

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