After dinner, the redhead grabbed the plates and cutlery around the table, soaking the dishes in soapy water. He earned a spry thumbs up from Juke. “Now you have to wash them–”
“No one’s got time for your jabber.” Marr cut in, snagging Azrael with an arm wrapped around his waist. “I’ll be stealing him for a bit.”
She blew a kiss towards Juke, who rubbed his temples. “Leave him in one piece for tomorrow morning.”
“Huh?” said a stunned Azrael, his gaze flitting back and forth, between the two. “We’re starting already?”
“Early bird gets the early worm. Oh wait, what’s the idiom for grinders in the night?”
“Hopefully not haemorrhoids,” he muttered.
Marr rolled her eyes at the redhead, dragging him along, through the vast hallways and out an open veranda.
Stepping onto the tiled floor to a neatly trimmed verdure, she pushed him three arm’s length away from her, a playful coyness splayed across her features.
“It’s been a while since Lilith last brought along fresh meat. Are you really amnesiac or is that a front she’s running?”
“Who can say for sure?” he said, throwing his hands up in the air.
“You,” replied Marr, dryly. “If Lilith doesn’t want us prying into it any further, it’s not my place to question her decision.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Moving along, what have you heard about me?”
“Not much. I’m assuming you’re another assassin like Lilith. Any tricks and tips to rise to the top in a cinch?”
A faint smile was painted across Marr’s lips. It didn’t take long before transmuting into an unbridled explosion of hilarity. Wiping a tear off her eye, she took in short gasps of air, regaining her composure. “My, my, you have quite the sense of humour.”
“Glad I could entertain you with my jests.” Azrael took a bow, biting back a flicker of annoyance. “In all seriousness though, how do I become one of you?”
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“For real?” Marr returned his gaze, twirling a stray strand of blonde hair, falling over her shoulder. “Words paint a pretty picture, don’t they? The weight of walking into our world isn’t as easy as Lilith makes it out to be. Especially in a year, for an ignoramus who thinks little of the struggle that comes with it.”
In a blink, she crossed the distance separating her from Azrael. Her fist whistled through the air, powerful as a gale, lodging firmly in his core.
In a gut-wrenching flare, the redhead crumbled to his knees, his vision blurring. What’s happening? Shaking his head, the pull of gravity had him closer to the ground than he liked to be. He swallowed back a scalding mouthful, gagging from the acidic aftertaste of bechamel sauce, wetting the roof of his mouth.
“I’m surprised you withstood my blow.” A slender set of fingers weaved their way through crimson strands. In a sharp tug, the redhead was pulled to his feet, dancing on his tiptoes. “Maybe you aren’t as helpless as I made you out to be.” A wide maniacal grin spread across Marr’s face, as she sent another clenched fist flying.
“Did you get a matching black eye for the right one?” asked Raen, pouring over Azrael’s battered form, examining his wounds.
“I’d barely managed to keep the grub from last night inside me.” He grimaced, recalling his not so pleasant training session with Marr.
“Hand-to-hand combat is all she’s got, apart from her sharp tongue. Her miasma isn’t too shabby either, but I find my stockpile of weapons a lot more apt for our line of work.”
Unzipping a set of duffel bags, she dropped a pile of handguns, a sniper, and a set of explosives.
“Shouldn’t you handle those with a bit more caution?” he asked, noting the hazardous pile of weaponry.
“We should be fine. These guys rarely let me down.”
“Right.” Azrael could feel his heart sink, watching Raen arm herself with a grenade and cock a gun in his direction.
“Tick-tock.”
“Did a were-broccoli bite you?” asked Juke, tucking a pair of muscular arms over his chest. “And why didn’t you come to my class in the morning? I ought to go prep dinner close to evening.”
“Ran into Raen on my way, and she’d dragged me over for a quick lesson which went on, waaaaay past morning. She was quite ferocious with her arsenal.” Azrael coughed up a plume of smoke, wiping the grime off his face.
“Right. The women here are quite… brutish.” Juke walked over and pulled up a chalkboard, drawing a sword. Flipping the board over, he produced a set of illustrations, depicting a blade in a forge, alongside a list of ingredients and procedures. “Unlike the destructive women you have dealt with, I prefer to begin with the theory and build up to actual practice over the course of our lessons. It is vital to understand the essence of a blade before you wield one. You must understand how to forge one of your own through the course of your studies, once you have a feel for the right kind.”
The redhead’s eyebrow began twitching, forcing a smile past a set of clenched fists. Pounding all this nonsense into my head after being beat up is nothing short of hell! He kept the grumbling internal, enduring ‘the essence of the blade.’