Page 97 of Scarred Sins
“What do you think, Blair?”
Noelle’s words snap me out of the little trance. I’m trying to process it and to figure out if it would be a smart move to carry something so dangerous around me.
“What would happen if I broke the glass accidentally?”
“Best case scenario, it doesn’t get on your skin or anyone around, and you’d still get mercury poisoning. In the long run, you could treat it, but never cure it. Worst-case scenario? It gets on you, and you die in a slow, painful death.’’
“Can I see those droppers?”
Freya nods and stands up, then walks over to her cabinets. She pulls a small dropper out and puts it in my hand. It’s very small, half the size of my thumb and thin. The bottom part has a very thin needle, covered with a small glass lid, to ensure nothing would drop out.
“How durable is this?”
Freya takes it back from my hands, then lifts her arm as high as possible and just lets the dropper fall onto the tiled floor. It bounces twice before it rolls down, landing in front of me. With a frown, I bend down to inspect it, and not a single scratch or crack is on the small container.
“Very durable.’’
It could be useful having this on me. Worst case scenario, I’d ensure Simmons would end up dead for sure. But that’s still a terrifying thought. What if he finds the small dropper and ends up using it on me?
Then again, it could be used on anyone else, not just Simmons. It’s a tough decision to make, and I don’t have the luxury to think through it. With both Noelle and Freya staring at me, expecting an answer, I get back to my feet, handing Freya back the dropper and sighing, blurting the words out.
“Fine, I’ll take it.’’
“I’ll have it ready soon.’’
I thought Noelle and I would return home once we were done visiting Freya. She took me inside the base and told everyone to take the afternoon off, leaving the two of us all alone in the basement. I changed into a pair of her sweatpants and a loose cotton shirt, then just stood there, waiting for her to pull out a big briefcase.
“So, what are we doing here?” I ask.
“Hudson taught you how to fight, Arlo taught you how to shoot. It’s time I taught you how to use my weapon of choice, no?” She smiles.
She opens the briefcase, and it’s filled with different types of knives. From small pocket knives and daggers to blades that barely have a handle. Each one is sharp, shining under the light, and in perfect condition. It looks like a single scratch would need stitches from the collection I’m seeing.
“Pick one,’’ Noelle motions with her head.
“Uh,’’ I pause, bending down to look at them closer. “I’ve never used anything like this. What would suit a beginner the best?”
Noelle shakes her head. “No, that’s the mindset that’s setting you back. I don’t have the time to teach you from scratch. Pick one, and I’ll make sure you get used to that specific type of blade and have a couple of the same ones made for you.’’
I take a deep breath. “Alright, this one,’’ I point to the first one that caught my attention.
It’s not too big, not too small. Enough to fit inside my pocket without being noticed, but definitely looks like it’d get the job done as well as any other blade inside the briefcase. Noelle’s eyes soften, and she chuckles.
“Ah, that one,’’ she hums. “I’ll give it to you for practice, but you can’t take it. I’ll have the same made for you.’’
“Any reason I can’t use that one?”
She pulls it out and smiles softly. “This is the blade my husband stabbed me with back before we got together.’’
“Pardon?” I ask, thinking I must’ve heard her wrong. Noelle just laughs, shakes her head, and hands me the knife, not satisfying my curiosity. She pulls me toward the part of the basement where I can throw the knife easily, and that’s how it begins.
For the next couple of hours, Noelle teaches me how to throw a knife and how to use it. She makes sure to tell me the most sensitive parts of a human body and where to slice and aim. She says that I shouldn’t aim for the heart unless the person is unconscious; otherwise, it could backfire quickly. Instead, she told me to aim for the throat, hands, and stomach. She shows me the exact spots to try and hit to immobilize the person.
Noelle takes out two wooden knives, with the weight the same as the real ones. These ones are dull, and although they could cause a bruise or two, they’re not deadly. With those knives, we practiced attacks and how to dodge and block.
I knew that she was an exceptional woman, but this was way better than I anticipated. The moment we started the little sparring session, she turned into something else entirely. Her eyes were dark and calculating, and it was as if all of her senses were heightened. Every step she took, every block of my knife or attack, was precise, deliberate, and measured. Almost like she could predict my move before I even thought of making it.
“I know that you might think this is too much.’’ Noelle sips on her water, drying her forehead with a towel. “But your muscles will remember. Muscle memory is a very real thing, and I can already tell that your senses have sharpened since the day I first met you.’’
