I shake my head as I push the basement door open. “I’m not going to attempt to understand Maxon’s convoluted mind,” I say as we head down yet another flight of stairs. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s just looking for reasons to be angry.”
The sounds of grunts and clashing weapons reach my ears as we finally make it all the way down to the basement. A wide hallway stretches out in front of me, closed doors lining the walls on either side. I count the numbers as I pass them, then enter training room number ten, where Blaze is waiting.
He’s already inside, wearing a loose pair of black sweats and nothing else. I swallow hard at the sight of his glistening bare torso, watching his back muscles ripple and flex as he whirls a wooden scythe through the air, his face tight with concentration. There’s no denying the grace and skill with which he wields the weapon—he almost seems to float through the air with it, parrying and slashing at an invisible opponent.
Cass lets out a wolf-whistle as Blaze finishes the sequence by leaping and slicing the air in front of him, then landing on one knee and allowing the point of his scythe to rest on one of the mats covering the floor. He looks up at us through sweaty blond bangs, the intense expression on his face giving way to a mischievous grin.
“Like that, did you?” he asks as he gets to his feet, giving the wooden scythe a playful whirl. His chest is completely bare except for a leather necklace strung with a single silver bead that rests just below his collarbone. He approaches me with a confident swagger, and holds the scythe out to me handle first. “Here, why don’t you give it a try.”
I take the weapon from his hands, and after a moment’s hesitation, give it an experimental slash. Unlike Maxon’s scythe, it feels clumsy, and the weapon wobbles a little with the motion.
“Doesn’t handle as smoothly as a real scythe, does it?” Blaze says with a grin.
“No, it doesn’t.” I frown at him. “Why is that?”
“Because there’s no magic involved.” He waves a hand, and the door shuts behind us. “Real scythes have imprints on them from the hundreds of reapers who have wielded them before. Part of the reason you were able to wield Maxon’s scythe so easily is because of that muscle memory.”
“So you’re saying that it wasn’t my skill at all?” I ask, disappointed. “The scythe was…steering, for lack of a better word?”
Blaze shrugs. “I can’t say for sure—I wasn’t there. But the muscle memory isn’t enough to win a fight, Addy,” he says, noticing the look on my face. “It takes guts, determination, and good instincts. There’s no way you’d have been able to kill three demons if you didn’t have those. And with someone else’s scythe, no less!”
I blink, surprised. “Does it matter whose scythe I use?”
“Well yeah.” Blaze seems a bit surprised that I don’t know this. “The scythe isn’t an inert weapon, Addy. It’s got a spiritual signature of its own. Reapers and scythes bond to each other, and the stronger the bond, the better fighter the reaper is. In fact, if your bond is strong enough, your scythe will speak to you.”
“What?” I squeak, glancing down at the wooden scythe in my hands in alarm before remembering it’s not a real one. “Speak?”
Blaze chuckles. “Yeah. But you’re a long way off from that. For now, we’ll practice with the wooden versions. If you can master a weapon that doesn’t magically aid you, it’ll make it much easier to control your own scythe when you get one.”
“Do you really think I’ll be able to master this in two weeks?” I ask dubiously.
“No, but you’ll get comfortable enough with the basic movements, which is what the headmistress and Professor Dal want. And on that note,” he says, grabbing a second wooden scythe from the rack of weapons on the wall, “let’s get started, shall we?”
We get right down to business, Blaze showing me a few basic moves. He has me repeat them over and over, stopping me occasionally to correct my stance or stroke. Though he touches me a few times, there’s nothing flirty about our interaction, and I’m surprised. I thought for sure he was going to use the opportunity to try and get into my pants, but he takes this very seriously.
“Okay,” I finally say, dropping the scythe from my sweaty hands after I complete what has to be my hundredth swing. My forearms are burning with strain, and I know I’m going to be crazy sore tomorrow. “My arms are going to turn into noodles if I try to lift this thing again.”
Blaze glances at the clock on the wall, then nods. “We’ve been here for an hour—that’s more than enough for today.” Taking pity on me, he picks up the scythe I dropped and returns both our weapons to the wall. “Are you sure you’re going to be up for this again tomorrow?”
Part of me wants to beg off, but I grit my teeth against the impulse. “No, I’ll be here.”
Blaze grins and claps me on the shoulder. “Of course you will. You’re a total badass. And you’ve already improved a lot today.”
“Thanks.” I grin back, and as I look up at him I notice the bead on his necklace has a rune etched into it. “What does this mean?” I ask, reaching out to prod it.
“Bravery.” Pride shines in his gaze. “All the men in my family have one.”
“What about the women? Do they get one, too?” I blurt, my feminist side coming out of its own accord.
“Of course. They wear a rune for strength. The women in my family don’t need extra bravery—they’re ferocious.” He winks.
“Good answer.” I laugh as we link arms and leave the training room together. “Any chance we can filch some food from the kitchen? I’m starving.”
* * *
“You are goingto drop dead by the end of the week.” Cass sits on the edge of the sink, and water streams down, cutting right through her lower back. “You’ve got to give yourself a break, Addy.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” I counter as I pull my hair into its customary ponytail. “Oh wait, I already am.”
