Page 35 of A Kiss From Death
Expert with a bow and arrow, great.
Cartwell’s bright blue hair snags my attention next as I squint, trying to decipher what he’s conjuring up in his corner. He’s waving his arms in a sweeping motion, dragging sand back over a pit in the ground next to him. Walking a little closer, I realize he’s covering up little wooden sticks he has hand carved into very sharp spikes. There has to be at least fifty of them protruding from the ground, all wedged close together. When the hell did he even have enough time to carve all those?
Master at making death traps, awesome.
As I walk to the edge of the Bubble, my foot catches on something, making me stumble before catching myself on the force field. No, not something—someone. The sand below me starts to wiggle to reveal a youthful boy’s face.Hudson.
He has to be no older than ten years old, and for the life of me, I haven’t figured out why any family would let someone so young enter themself intothe Crucible.
Kneeling, I grab his hand and help him up as sand rolls off his body. “Sorry, buddy, I didn’t see you there.”
He smiles up at me with a goofy grin, his front two teeth missing. “That’s the point!” The gap in his teeth gives him an adorable lisp when he talks. His light blond hair is caked with muddy sand, making it look a medium brown. “I’ve been working on my camouflage skills.” A glob of spit flies through his tooth gap, landing on my chest.
He’s painted his entire body perfectly to match the multicolored speckled sand around him to the point that I didn’t even see him. It truly is impressive. The only dead giveaway is his deep blue ocean eyes that I could spot from the opposite side of the arena.
I let a warm, friendly laugh escape my throat. “I can see that. Looks like you perfected your skills, little man.”
He fist pumps in triumph. “You think tomorrow, I will be able to paint myself to blend into the Bubble’s wall?”
I ruffle his hair, muddy sand flying everywhere. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to.”
His grin takes over the entirety of his face as he lists off materials he’ll need for tomorrow. I actually don’t doubt he could blend himself into the wall with how he made himself disappear into the sand. That, and he’s from Visionary Sector, which houses some of the most creative people in all of Fallout.
I leave Hudson to his thinking as I round the Bubble in search of Rayah. I spot her bouncing pink curls a little ahead of me, so I lengthen my strides and come up behind her.
“What are you working on?” I question her.
She about jumps out of her skin and whirls around, holding a throwing star in a very shaky hand. “Flowers, you scared the poop out of me, Nyxi.” She places her other hand over her chest to calm her racing heart.
“What’s with the whole flower thing?” I prod.
She lets out a loud huff and rolls her eyes. “Mama always told me proper ladies never curse, and if I ever wanted to be wedded off, I needed to mind my mouth.” She giggles to herself. “I guess I started saying flowers instead of the real word as an inside joke with myself, and, well, it just kind of stuck.”
I smile at her and wink. “I like it!”
Her face lights up at that and solidifies to me that I’m sure this girl has never had anyone on her side. Maybe becoming friends with Ray will help us both find some happy pangs, or at the least, dull the sharp pains I know we both harbor.
“What were you practicing before I about scared you to an early grave?” I look around her shoulder to find a target with throwing stars littered in the sand around it.
She grunts, growing irritated. “Well, I was trying to work on using these little flower looking blade things, but for the life of me, I can’t get them to work.” She nods to herself in thought. “I think they are defective. Yup, that definitely has to be the issue.” She smiles to herself happily at the conclusion.
“Wrong,” I say in a nonchalant voice as I grab her wrist, dragging her arm up to hold the star between us. She sputters in embarrassment and starts to cocoon herself away from me.
I curse under my breath as I soften my face and look at her, proving to her I’m not a threat. “Sorry, I just meant there’s nothing wrong with the weapon, just how you’re holding it.” She offers me a small, shy nod, giving me permission to continue.
“For starters, this is called a throwing star.” I point at the blade in her hand, tapping each of the six points. “Your first issue is that you are holding it wrong.” I notice little cuts all over her hands from the points.
Prying her palm open, I take the blade to demonstrate the correct form. “You were wrapping your entire palm and fingers around the blades, hence all the cuts and missed throws.” I twist the star sideways and pinch one of the points between my thumband pointer finger. “This is a better way to hold it. Fewer cuts, more accuracy.”
Ray smiles at me in thanks and reaches to take the star back, replicating the grip I just showed her. “I guess it does feel better to hold it this way, but I still like calling them flower blades.” She giggles to herself and turns to face the target.
I walk up behind, grabbing her shoulders. “Line your elbow up with the target, draw the star—I mean, flower—back to your ear, and then let her fly.” I pat her shoulder and take twoverylarge steps back so I’m out of her danger zone.
“Okay,” she says nervously, “here goes nothing.” She draws her hand back to her ear and catapults her arm forward, releasing the star with a grunt. It spins through the air and lands on the outermost section of the target with a centimeter to spare.
“Flowers, that was amazing!” She jumps up and down, squealing as she runs to the target to collect all the stars scattered in the sand so she can go again.
I may have just created a monster. She lines back up in front of the target. I smile to myself as I watch her miss the next throw, but then she confidently lands the following two closer to the center of the target. It feels good to know she can now defend herself in the Crucible. She now has power for once in her life, and I think I just experienced ahappy pangbecause of it.
