Seeing as I didn’t have any better ideas, I reached for it, grabbing the hilt where Satina had tossed it minutes before. My hand, still coated in the blood from my own wounds, tingled as it touched the wood.
I lifted it off the ground and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Dalton in full beast form, his mouth all fangs and anger, his eyes twisted and hungry. If there was any humanity left in the man, it wasn’t there to be seen now.
Shooting up a quick prayer, I closed my eyes and swung the sword, hoping the plaster would at least be hard enough to disorient him. The other, more likely possibility was that the plaster would shatter against his hulking body. And then I would die.
But there was no plaster. Instead, the sword whistled through the air, making a squishy thwick sound as it made contact with Dalton. He let out a yelp.
I opened my eyes to find Dalton on the ground, reared back and holding his gut. The sword in my hand shone brightly with blood and glinted strangely in the moonlight.
It wasn’t plaster anymore. Thank the good Lord above, it wasn’t plaster anymore! I couldn’t stop myself from beaming, even in my current predicament, as the revelation sent a surge of giddy adrenaline through me, replacing the sense of impending doom that had shackled me in fear just moments before.
My touch, my blood-soaked palm, had changed the fabric of reality. What was once plaster was now steel. What was once harmless and decorative was now deadly.
But that didn’t make sense. My blood could be used for magic, yes, but not by me.
“You bitch!” Dalton growled through pained and twisted fangs.
I stood my ground, hovering close over Abram. “I know I said I could take care of myself,” I rambled off quickly to Satina. “But I’ve never used a sword.”
“You’re destined for more than just taking care of yourself, Supplicant. Don’t be so self-limiting.” She began to shimmer with light.
Dalton was starting to get up now, though, and Satina’s riddles were of no help once he did.
“Okay, but what do I do now?”
“Outlast it,” she whispered through the wind, and then she vanished into nothing.
Dalton stood upright now. No sooner did I register him than he came toward me. His claws struck at my side and knocked the wind out of me. I stumbled backward, but kept two hands on the sword’s hilt. Swinging blindly, I came up with nothing but air.
His swing at me was much luckier.
He ripped into my forearm, spraying blood all over his claws and the ground. His affected appendage began to glow with golden ribbons.
“That’s the stuff,” he said breathlessly. “Now give Papa some more.”
Pain shot up my arm, and a throbbing sensation threatened to rob me of my weapon, but I had to fight. This was my one chance. This was my last chance.
“I’ll give you something,” I said, arcing the sword at him again. Missing again.
But the sword felt less foreign in my hands now, like it was speaking to me, telling me where to point it. Maybe the magic in my blood had something to do with it or maybe I was just a fast learner. Either way, I was open to any advantage I could get.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself, Char,” he said, circling me like predator. “I can make it quick. Drawing things out will only make it worse for you.”
“You’re just scared I can still kick your ass,” I said, jabbing the blade forward. It nicked his side, but he spun too quickly for the blow to do any real damage. “You always were a sore loser.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, almost foaming at the mouth. “You don’t have a chance here, and even if you did, you couldn’t kill anybody. It’s not who you are.”
“You have no idea who I am,” I cut out, narrowing my gaze at him.
I swung again. He grabbed the blade with his bare hand, and I yanked it hard, freeing it from him and slicing his palm on the way out. He yelped again and pulled back.
I may not have actually killed anyone before, but after this, after everything that had happened, I couldn’t tell you what sort of person I was anymore.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he said.
He jumped again, and this time his feet came at me. He kicked me hard in the shoulders, knocking me backward. I tripped over Abram and tumbled to the ground. My head hit hard against the ground, and my vision dimmed. Then, I was being lifted upward.
Dalton’s claws dug into my back as he raised me over his head. I clutched the sword’s hilt tighter and made another swipe at him, but the angle made my attempt futile. Instead of doing any damage, it flailed back and forth ridiculously.
“I tried to warn you, Char. Really, I did.” He threw me, and as I passed through the air, I saw everything: Dalton standing there wickedly, Abram lying on the ground beside him, the full moon hanging in the sky and marking some horrible countdown to Abram’s curse.