Page 28 of Kill the Beast
“Don’t point it at your face!”
“Sorry.”
She rolled her eyes. “Try to hit the tree I just marked.”
He stood up straight. Rolled his neck and shoulders.
“Any time, now,” Lyssa said impatiently.
He raised his arm and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Squeeze harder.”
He obeyed. The blast seemed to surprise him, and he staggered from the recoil. The tree remained unscathed.
Lyssa sighed. “I thought you said you’d used one of those before.”
“Isaidonce or twice,” he reminded her, then winced. “Quite a while ago, at that.”
She took the pistol from him. Nudged his shins with her boot. “Widen your stance. Shoulder-length apart. Like this.” She showed him, and he copied her. Then she placed the pistol back into his hand, adjusting the line of his arm and the way his fingers were holding the grip itself. “Okay, try again.”
He did, and hit the X dead in the center.
She clapped him on the back. “Much better!”
“Are you satisfied now?” he asked, the corner of his lip quirking up.
“Not yet.”
The kitchen window slammed open and Rags stuck her head out. “Who is firing guns in my woods before sunrise?” she shouted.
“I’m making sure Al won’t get murdered by Hound-wardens,” Lyssa shouted back.
“Oh. Carry on, then!” The witch’s head disappeared from the window.
Lyssa took back her pistol and holstered it. “Now, I want you to punch me.”
Alderic shook his head so hard the leaves fell out of his hair. “Absolutely not. I refuse to hit—”
“I told you before, I’m not a lady. Besides, if Honoria comes after us, she’ll have no qualms about hurtingyou.I want you to have a little experience with hand-to-hand, in case you can’t get toyour sword or pistol in time. Here, put up your fists like this”—she moved into a fighting stance—“and try to hit me.”
He raised his hands and almost immediately lowered them, clearly distraught at the idea. “But I don’t—”
Lyssa struck, punching him right in the nose. Alderic reeled back, clutching at his face as blood began to stream from both nostrils.
“Lesson one,” she said as he swore in what sounded like three different languages. “Keep your hands up.”
His nose was already turning purple. He wiped it on the back of his hand, smearing bright blood on his pale skin, and got back into the stance she had shown him, his hands firmly guarding his face this time. “I really don’t want to hit you.” His voice sounded congested from the swelling.
“You have to stop with that bullshit. It’s insulting.”
“It’s not because you’re a woman,” he insisted. “I don’t want to hitanyone.”
“Well, you only have to hit me once and we’ll stop.”
“Only once?”
“Just to prove that you won’t jeopardize this whole thing if we get attacked,” she said.
