Chapter Twenty-Eight
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IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time Nazab and Monica returned to their base.
The wind had grown worse, so he had to adjust his plans a bit.
“Come with me, female,” he said after parking the truck behind the house.
He didn’t want it to be spotted by anyone who might pass by. Not that there was much chance of that.
“Where are we going?” Monica asked curiously. They’d only searched two of the sites he’d chosen so far, since they’d been spread so far apart.
“I’m going to teach you how to shoot,” he reminded her.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I need to take the clothes off the line first,” she added. He retrieved the basket, then helped her fold up the now dry clothing before taking the basket inside.
Nazab had found a few guns and had scrounged up ammo to teach the cambion how to shoot.
Offering her his arm, warmth suffused him when she hooked her arm through his.
The terrain was uneven as he escorted her to the nearby woods.
“It’s too windy to shoot at your targets out in the open,” he explained when she gave him a questioning look.
“What sort of targets am I going to be shooting at?” she asked warily.
“Nothing that’s alive,” he said with a grin, aware that she wasn’t in favor of killing animals for sport.
“You want me to shoot rocks?” she teased him.
“I was thinking of trees,” he retorted, using the rifle he was carrying to move a branch out of the way.
“Trees are alive,” Monica pointed out.
“Touche,” the knight said wryly. “You can shoot logs and tree stumps, then.”
“I’ll be surprised if I can actually hit anything,” his female confessed. “Guns have never been my thing.”
“Your Aunt Pansy didn’t own any?” he joked.
“Nah, wooden spoons were her weapons of choice,” Monica said, then snickered. He loved her sense of humor and was glad she wasn’t serious all the time. He was more lighthearted than most of his brothers, but Jacquin could be a prankster.
“This will do,” Nazab said when they came to a clearing. The trees sheltered them from the worst of the wind as he examined the space. “What about that stump?” he asked, pointing at a rotten stump on the far side of the clearing.
“It’s already dead, so I won’t feel bad if I shoot it,” his cambion decided.
This was the first time the warrior had held a gun, so he familiarized himself with it first. “We’ll need these,” he said and pulled two packets with ear plugs out of his pocket.
He’d nabbed them from the town after he’d hunted down all the humans with black souls.
They put the ear plugs in, then he aimed at the stump and pulled the trigger.
“Of course you managed to hit it on your first try,” Monica said with an envious eyeroll.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said and handed the weapon to her. It wasn’t going to be as easy for his female, since her balance wasn’t ideal. Her prosthetic leg didn’t give her the stability she needed, but she was adept at compensating for it.
Nazab showed Monica how to hold and aim the gun, then he got her to dry fire it a few times. “Do you feel more comfortable with it now?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s going to be scary when I fire a live round.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, then inserted the magazine into the rifle. “You’re all set,” he said, then moved behind her so he wouldn’t distract her.
Following his directions, Monica took her first shot. The rifle bucked a bit, but she was stronger than a human of her size. “Did I hit it?” she asked, peering at the stump.
“Nope,” he said, then shifted the gun up a bit so she could peer through the sight. “You hit the tree behind it,” he told her.
“Bummer,” Monica said in disappointment. “What did I do wrong?”
Once again, his female impressed him. She didn’t get discouraged or sulk that she wasn’t an instant expert. Instead, she listened to his advice and quickly began to improve.
“You hit the stump that time,” Nazab said on her fifth attempt, proud of her efforts.
“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Monica said. “The wind keeps messing with my aim.”
“We’re not quite as sheltered as I’d hoped, but this is good practice for you,” the knight said. “Your targets won’t stand still for you when you’re in the thick of battle. You’ll be shooting at people who are running or shooting back at you.”
Monica gave a small shudder at that prospect. “I’d better improve quickly, then,” she said. “Humans with black souls seem to outnumber the folks with gray souls.”
“Some who were on the verge of being evil would have turned bad after the Rapture,” Nazab mused. “They no longer needed to be civilized and were allowed to act out their worst fantasies.”
“What would a Knight of Order’s worst fantasy be?” Monica asked curiously. “I assume you all have white souls?”
“We do,” he confirmed, putting some thought into her question. “My worst fantasy would involve torturing Rahab and his squad in the most horrific ways I can imagine.”
“Would that make your soul turn gray?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but probably,” he replied. “It’s not something we’ve done in the past, even if we’ve been sorely tempted to on countless occasions.”
“Have they ever tortured you guys?” she asked, then sighed. “Ignore that stupid question,” she said. “Of course they’ve tortured you.”
Nazab grimaced at the vague memory of being murdered slowly and painfully several times.
“Rahab used to use us as bait to lure Amaros into a trap,” he said.
“We all made a pact to end our own lives if we were captured after losing a few wars that way. I had to use my sword or other means to end things a few times, so my commander wouldn’t feel obligated to rescue me. ”
Monica’s already pale face went a shade whiter. “They sound so evil,” she said. “I can’t believe one of those animals is my father.”
“Be glad I found you before Thamuz did, female,” Nazab said gravely. “He would have used his parental bond to control you. You would have faced my brothers and me in battle eventually.”
“I could never kill you, Nazab,” she refuted, lowering the gun to turn to face him. “Not even if my dad tried to force me to.”
He wished she was right about that, but his female had no idea what Thamuz and his squadmates had done with their younglings in the past. “I could never harm you either, my cambion,” he said and received a stunning smile from her.
They continued to practice with the weapon until it grew dark, then they headed inside.
Monica ate some dinner then they sat in the living room, chatting about their lives and getting to know each other.
They didn’t kiss each other when they headed to their bedrooms. It was too tempting and neither of them wanted to break her rule.