Page 38 of Infernium

He turned me just enough to let a cold detachment slip between us and tapped at my elbow. “Arm out.”

While disenchanted by all of this, I did as he commanded and held my arm out like an aloof teenager.

“There are two positions with this blade. Outward and chambered.” Cold steel kissed my palm, as he placed the hilt there and curled my fingers around it. “Tip toward the elbow is chambered. You use your fingers to quickly flip it outward, when needed.” He slid my fingers over the hilt to position them a different way, but all I could feel was his strong arms around me and his solid chest pressed at my back. “Do you feel how nicely that slips across your palm?”

“Yes.” I didn’t bother to mention what else felt nice slipping across my palm.

“Good. Now try by yourself.”

In the same quick movements, I repeated what he’d taught me, flipping the blade around in my hand. Strangely enough, the motion felt completely natural. So much so, I frowned as I watched my hand perform as if it belonged to someone else.

“Seems you’re a natural.” Jericho’s voice, tinged with confusion, matched the confusion swirling in my own head. “You’ve never taken a self-defense class?”

“Does volleyball in gym class count as self-defense?”

“No.”

“Then, no. Maybe I just want to hurry up and get to the cutting part.” I hated the way the sound of his chuckle tickled my chest and sprang goosebumps across my arms. “What’s next?”

“Impatient.” Gripping my arm again, he guided the blade outward. “There is a three-strike rule when fighting a demon, or angel. Stun. Silence. Sever.”

“You’ve killed many angels?”

“Enough of them. Unbeknownst to many, there is a nerve that runs beneath a demon’s skin, across his chest like a shield, up to the back of his neck. A very sensitive one. It helps him pick up on certain vibrations, like your increased pulse rate.” As he ran his thumb over my wrist, I momentarily lost focus on his words. “The tiny change in temperature. The hitch of your breath.” Warm licorice-scented breath hit my neck, and I closed my eyes, tamping down the urge to turn around and kiss him, whether he wanted me to, or not. “When struck, it’s like hitting an open nerve.” He came around from behind, standing before me like a wall I wanted to climb. With my wrist gripped in his hand, he guided the blade up over his chest. “Up and across. Then flip the blade to chambered, as I showed you.”

As commanded, I did as he told me, again slightly flabbergasted how easily it moved in my hand. As if I’d done it a thousand times before. I just caught the flicker of confusion on Jericho’s face, which told me I wasn’t the only one surprised.

“At the throat is an organ.” When he tipped his head back, I watched his Adams apple bob with a swallow. “There are clicks, made by a different vocal chord to those of a human, which create curses and power. If given the chance, they will hold you in a trance, harm you with their chants. Unless you silence them by dragging the blade deep enough to puncture that organ.” He gently led my hand across his own throat to demonstrate. “And finally …” He tapped at his temple. “Unlike humans, we have a very strong psychic power that originates here. It allows us to transport between realms as easily as walking through a door. One quick strike severs that ability. The execution of all three activates the curse, and your victim bursts into flames.”

I flinched at that and turned away from him, taken back to that night on the grounds of Blackwater, when his wings had been sliced clean off and he had burst into flames in the same manner he’d just described.

“I’m sorry. It’s not my intent to upset you. I only want you and the baby safe.”

Eyes screwed shut to banish the visuals from before, I nodded. “I know. I hope I never have to see that up close again.”

“As do I. But it’s best for both of us if you can defend yourself.”

“If you think that I’m going to use this on you, you’re wrong. I don’t care what you turn into.”

“Do not be under the impression that I’d have any modicum of control or that I would recognize you enough to stop myself if it got to that point.” Fingers dug into my hips one last time before he released me.

“You speak as if you have been to that point.”

“I have.”

“How?”

Brows knitted, he lowered his gaze. “Pain is very powerful. At times, more powerful than anything else. There is a place in the deepest, darkest depths of the mind, where all hope is lost. The point at which you realize that nothing is going to save you. Had you found yourself in the mouth of that serpent, you would know the creeping blackness that lies in wait. And there was a time I surrendered myself to it.”

Staring off, I tried to imagine the utter hopelessness he was trying to convey, but as if my head refused to sink that deep into darkness, I couldn’t. “I don’t know that feeling. Even when you were gone, I couldn’t accept it. As impossible as it was, I knew you’d come back.”

“For humans, hope is innate. An essential part of your being. For me? It is a fragile thread that can snap at a moment’s notice. That thick and suffocating blackness is a matter of breathing a different kind of air, regardless of my pedigree. I’m not immune to it, Farryn.”

Eyeing the blade still caught in my palm, I shook my head and stepped past him, placing it back on the small ledge of the organ. “You can teach me how to use this. But you can’t teach my heart to follow through, if it’s you at the end of my blade. That’s just the way it is.”

Expelling a huff, he turned to face me, and my eyes darted straight to the muscles that stretched the fabric around his biceps. Strong arms I longed to capture me. “You are perhaps the most stubborn human I’ve ever met.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

---