The first gun practice took place in a rather normal gun range. We each had our own cubicle with a table, a piece of paper with a human shaped target on it, and the Beretta 9mms issued the first day. On the wall was a small laminated list of rules. I glanced over them as I waited for class to start.
David showed us how to load our guns once. Then, he used the lever to bring a clip on a pulley to his table, hung the paper target on it, and pushed the lever forward to send it back down the range. He gave very little instruction as he demonstrated a perfect head and heart shot before flicking the safety back on and setting the gun on the table again, barrel pointed down the range.
“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re absolutely sure you’re ready to pull it,” he said with an air of boredom. “Read the rules listed on the wall of your designated area and then you can start.”
Shooting a gun for him seemed about as complicated and exciting as throwing a rock. Most likely, he had done it so many times in his twenty-six years it no longer gave him a rush. His face was calm and steady as he pulled the trigger. He didn’t even blink at the recoil.
The others disappeared once I stepped into my own secluded area. I let out a long breath. It was the first time I had felt any sense of privacy in days. The overwhelming urge to cry bubbled up out of nowhere, but I pushed it back down to get to work.
I picked up my gun and let it rest in the palm of my hand, feeling the heavy weight of the metal. A surge of energy coursed through my body. I flicked the safety off and brought the gun up in front of me with both hands, just as David had done. The small sights lined up with the paper being’s forehead.
As I looked down the range, my vision tunneled. The longer I stared, the closer the target seemed. With a deep breath in, I made sure my shot lined up. With a deep breath out, I pulled the trigger.
The gun recoiled back, but my steady arms kept it in place. I was the first to fire amongst the group. Even though I couldn’t see any of their faces, I could only take their silence to mean they were looking down the line to see who shot and how well they did. I smiled so big my cheeks hurt. I had hit the target right in the center, a perfect head shot. But all at once, my face fell back to its stern look of misery. If only I had known how to do that when Danny was still alive.
David Yu walked up behind me with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, nodding his head. “Good job, Paige,” he said with only the slightest hint of surprise behind it. “Very good. Looks like we underestimated you.”
Pride warmed my insides. I was a natural! The others followed my lead and fired shots off at their own targets. A few hit the corner of the paper, chipping bits off at a time. Others landed inside the target’s figure, but completely missed the bullseye. Only one other made it into the three round circles, though just barely. I took a step back to see who was in the cubicle next to me.
Of course, it was Ryker Alexander. According to him, he had been shooting guns since he was a wee tyke. He caught me peeking in at him. With a sneer, he turned his body to face me while his gun remained in his hand on the table, not as David had showed us but with the barrel facing outward.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said with bite. “Don’t get used to it.”
I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. “Oh yeah?” My confidence swelled and I hoped that my skills didn’t fail me. I turned, picked up my gun, flicked the safety, and fired another single shot. The bullet landed directly in the center of the dark red circle on the figure’s chest—another bullseye!
I went through the protocol of setting my weapon down properly before I stepped back and looked at Ryker again with a cocky grin. “Was that beginner’s luck too?”
His snide, entitled smirk faded as his heavy-set eyebrows pulled together.
“Don’t think for one minute that just because I’m a woman and not a descendant of some tenth generation Huntsman that I am incapable of making it through training,” I growled. “David was right. You’ve all underestimated me.”
The room was silent as the others listened in on our private verbal battle. Even David stood as far away from the range as he could with his back against the wall, staring at us.
Just then, breaking the heavy silence, a shot fired off and a searing pain burst through my foot. I screamed out as I collapsed to the floor. Ryker stood over me, trying to hide the grin pulling at the corners of his lips.
Holly ran to my side. “You shot her in the foot!” she yelled as she kneeled down beside me. “You did that on purpose!”
He scoffed at her and rolled his eyes. “It was an accident,” he said unconvincingly.
David Yu walked over slowly and looked down at the blood pouring out from the hole in the side of my boot. I held onto it so tightly I thought the bones would crush. It was the only thing that kept me from falling apart over the pain. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I did my best to stifle them down and keep a tight face.
“Come on, Paige,” David said as he lifted me up by the arm. “Let’s get you to the medical ward.”
That was all he had to say about it. He didn’t tell Ryker off for blatantly shooting me and he didn’t freak out that one of his initiates gained a new hole in their body under his care. He simply walked off with me while I had my arm draped over his shoulder for support.
“Everyone else, set your weapons down and follow us out from the range. You can wait in the hallway,” he said over his shoulder.
“People get shot in your class often I take it,” I forced out in a somewhat steady voice as I hobbled along.
He shrugged his free shoulder. “It happens.”
“You know he did that on purpose, right?” I couldn’t help asking. Someone else besides me had to have seen the look in his eyes before he fired.
“Oh yeah, I know. Kid’s been shooting guns for fifteen years. There’s no way that was a mistake. You were exceptional at shooting and he was jealous.”
My eyes widened as I stared into his tanned relaxed face. His black hair slicked back to show his forehead wrinkled with disconcertment.
“That’s it? You’re not going to do anything?” I blurted out bitterly.
“Even if I tried to get him kicked out of the class, his father has too much pull. He’d find a way to make it not happen. Hate to say it, but there’s really nothing we can do here except take you to the ward and let you heal.”
I couldn’t believe it. Ryker was untouchable, even when he shot another initiate. The kid was a psychopath and everyone at the Chamber was in his pocket. The fact that David had called me exceptional wasn’t lost on me, though.
“I wasn’t that great. It was just beginner’s luck.”
He turned to look at me, his face just inches from mine. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know there’s no such thing as beginner’s luck, Paige. There’s only talent and you’ve got it.”
They were the first nice words he had spoken to me. It gave me hope to think I was changing his mind about the capabilities of non-descendants. My head swelled with confidence. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to apply weight to my bloodied foot.
Each time I took a step I had to hold a wince inside by squeezing my lips together tightly. Physically, I had never felt anything so excruciating in my life. But it still didn’t touch the pain of losing my little boy. That knowledge was the only thing that kept me from passing out as we made the long walk to the medical ward.
David sat me down on a bed along the back wall. He closed the surrounding curtain halfway, even though I was the only one in there. I looked around for a nurse, but couldn’t find one anywhere.
A snowy-white bird flew out from the back room and landed next to me on the pillow. I jumped and scooted away. A bird was the last thing I expected to find in the medical ward. David laughed. His smiled reached his eyes, which closed and wrinkled.
“Well, she’s looking at you, so that’s a good sign. Looks like you’ll make it through the night, Paige.”
I stared in silence, wai
ting for an explanation.
David sighed. “Oh, right. Non-descendant. This is Dahlia. She’s a Caladrius, which is a special bird that can cure the sick and wounded.”
I looked at the bird that curled up and rested its head on the fluffy pillow behind me. I had never been a huge fan of birds, but Dahlia was immediately different. She was cute and docile.
“How do they do it?”
“No one knows exactly. They just take the sickness and pain into them, fly away, and when they come back they’re one hundred percent and so is the person. She’ll sleep with you through the night and you should feel better in the morning. The nurse will come around to see if you need anything.”
With that he pulled his lips into a tight, half-hearted smile and left the ward.
Broken Angel (Book 1 in the Chronicles of a Supernatural Huntsman series) Page 18
