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The next day, he showed up at the cottage with a crate. Inside was a live chicken.
He set the slatted box on the kitchen counter and said, “Shifters don’t die easily. It takes some effort.”
As if the other species were so simple to slay…
“You need to fatally injure a shifter when it’s in animal form,” Toran told her. “As a human, they’ll just shift and self-heal—so it must be a lethal attack in order to be effective. Stabbing the beast in the hindquarters will slow its movements. The chest and stomach are advantageous as well. If you can penetrate the nape of the neck, that’s a good spot too. Incapacitate the animal, roll it onto its back, place one foot against its chest with your weight bearing down and then…”
She stared at him with bated breath. The wrenching of her gut instinctively told her she was not going to like his next words.
“Rip its throat out.”
Jade jumped back. “What?!”
“You heard me.”
“That’s repulsive.”
“Yes. And you’re going to practice on the chicken.”
“I most certainly am not!” Disgust roared through her, making her shudder.
Toran glared at her. “Now is not the time to get squeamish, Jade.”
She wrapped her arms around her midsection as her stomach revolted against the challenge. “I can’t even begin to imagine doing this, Toran. It’s insane.”
“Yes. But necessary. Now,” he continued, unfazed, “we’ve worked on grip strength with various exercises over the past few months. Having a steel cage for a hand helps you maintain your hold on a sword when you’re incurring forceful blows. But it will also assist you with ripping out a throat. It’s not easy and there are very few humans who can do it. You have to dig into the flesh with your nails and fingertips and secure the grip. Otherwise, you’ll just come away with a fistful of fur.”
She turned her back to him. “There is no way I’m doing this.”
Toran was quiet a few minutes, letting her digest the task. Finally, he said, “Clearly, your father didn’t have it in him, either. From what I’ve heard, he was too preoccupied with trying to save your mother to do what had to be done to kill the wolves that beset them.”
Her jaw clenched as tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Bad form, Toran,” she said as she faced him.
“Really?” His brow raised. “Because you have to be angry to do this, Jade. And in a real battle, you’ll be terrified for your life—and possibly someone else’s—but will still need to be able to function.”
Her laugh held no humor. “That sounds oh, so doable.”
“It is, Jade. I’ve done it before.”
She gaped, but quickly recovered. “With a shifter?”
“No, a regular bobcat. I came across him when I was on a foot patrol years ago. He wasn’t inclined to let me leave his territory without a fight.”
“Jesus, Toran. I had no idea.”
“I didn’t advertise it. But I do have the head mounted on my living room wall.”
Despite her tension and anxiety, she whistled under her breath. “Impressive. So if I make this work, does that mean I get to hang the chicken in my kitchen?”
“It means we’re going to move onto a bigger animal.”
Jade’s jaw slackened again. Toran didn’t balk. After all, she’d been the one to demand he teach her how to be a slayer.
“I’m not so sure about this. I’m feeling queasy.”
“Good,” he said. “You won’t be cavalier about it.”
“No. But if I barf on your boots, you’ll only have yourself to blame, since I’ve forewarned you.”
