The Bonded Read Online Free PDF Page A

echoes in the distance, “In other words, chopped, cut, burned, or bled.”
    With a diminishing laugh, the Weapons Master crinkles his nose and continues, “Yet, you possess natural defenses that may keep you alive.”
    Wait… what? My hands rise so that I don’t lose this 6 th grade staring contest and I peripherally see them, fingernails an inch long, but as strong as bone and as sharp as a talon. I press my thumb into my middle finger and immediately know that these are killing tools, and apparently retractable as I notice my under-achieving pinky finger still in process. “I see your point—no pun intended. What are waers and why can’t I have a sword? You must have plenty in your weapons cellar.”
    “There is not time for a waer history lesson, but concerning the swords, one has to earn a sword. It takes years, even decades for some to have a sword made for them. ‘One weapon, one vam… one of us.’”
    “Alright, well I’ll take a 9mm, then.”
    He disapprovingly shakes his head like a frustrated parent teaching a child math and replies, “Their skin is similar to elephant hide, thick and pliant enough to repel projectiles and their bones are stronger than steel. Slashing and cutting may be archaic by today’sstandards, but a necessary art for winning these battles,” he says slowly with eyes half-shut, as if enjoying a private moment of pleasure. Slowly, his incisors penetrate closed lips and reveal themselves at full length. They aren’t fangs, but grow a half inch with sharpened points for piercing tough skin and jagged sides for ripping it out.
    He sees my dismay and laughs softly with murder echoing on the edge. “First time? You have a lot to learn about our species young one. You’ll feel yours soon enough”
    And with that, our conversation ends as Franz and several others rise from the cellar with cold focus, heading upstairs.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    I find myself alone at the door’s threshold as all others left eagerly to prepare for battle. I take in a deep breath, attempting to replenish muscles that seem to ache from a lack of oxygen. The muscles groan and tighten with tension in response, as if they were protesting my ignorance of their true needs. I take one more of those to calm my nerves and step out into my new reality.
    I’m greeted by the utter dismissal of a dozen or so of my new closest friends. As they huddle around, whispering angry words and spitting out hushed curses, it’s apparent that there is a similarity in their appearances. They all vary in height, but no one exceeds the five foot ten average height in this country. Builds are unique as well, ranging from Franz and his hulking muscles to the Weapons Master’s androgynous frame. All of them possess darker hair and contrasting eyes that practically glow. Surely, they must enjoy some advantage in the murky dark of night.
    Out of habit I twist my right wrist for a quick glance at my watch, and what do you know, its 8:30 p.m. on Tuesday and I’ve slept for four days. I strain my neck upward to locate the source of light that permits me to see the colors and images so well, only to find no street lights, house lights, or other modern conveniences—just the thousands of scattered stars burning themselves to a slow death for my benefit. Nothing escapes my perception, from the yellow teeth of Franz to the nervous black rabbit poised for a survival sprint on the edge of the forest. It’s a strange sight, not like the sun illuminating most and hiding some within its cooler shadows, and not similar to infrared or military starlight goggles. Yet, there’s nothing hidden from me and no shade unknown. I imagine my light eyes absorbing starlight like any nocturnal predator to the ‘nth degree.
    The ordinariness of it all is surreal. Nine houses from upscale, secluded bedroom communities arranged in a crescent sequence. The landscape rattles free a deep memory of a time spent a year in the North Country, wandering through